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Pleasure Island-By LindaG and Foraoo.	By : Foraoo Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Savage Garden Views: 1513 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Savage Garden. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 3- Breaking.

*~* Darren *~*

After Gustave had examined us we were herded off the beach into a large hall. My legs felt weak beneath me and I was short of breath, I stumbled as we moved and strong arms righted me. “Take it easy son.” It was Gustave. “This will only be more of an ordeal if you insist on making it one.” I nodded and attempted to slow down my breathing. We were lined up once again, and made to kneel before the awaiting trainers. Forbidden from eye contact there was no way I could see those who observed us. I wondered if my father was among them, whether he had seen me and if he had what he felt?

“This one’s nice and strong looking. Make him stand up.” A woman’s voice asked to my right. I felt more then saw Richard being dragged to his feet. The woman made appreciative sounds and then the sound of a slap resonated throughout the building. I winced and squeezed my eyes shut. The woman was pleased with Richard’s composed reaction. “I want him, send him to my chamber as soon as possible. First have him bathed and decorated. I’m thinking light blue accessories to accentuate his eyes.”

“As soon as possible? Understood Madam Kay.” Richard was quickly taken away and the voices left. Strangely, as much as Richard had made me feel nervous, his absence hit me. It caused a hollow, empty feeling inside but this was quickly replaced by my awakening fear.

“Now, this one is lovely. Help him up.” A mans voice just above me. “You heard me! Help him up.” My hair was grabbed and used as a lever to make me rise, roughly the aide let go with a violent thrust. “Oh lovely indeed. Look at those large innocent eyes. Ivory skin and such a pout.” The man appeared to be in his early sixties, with dark skin that was more likely out of a bottle then the sun. “Has William seen him yet? He’s just his type. Dark hair and effete features? No? His loss, my gain, I say.” I felt myself begin to balk at the thought of being alone with this man for one minute, let alone six months of training. He took a step towards me and reached a wrinkled hand outward…

“Wait!” Cried a new aide entering the hall. “You can’t have him. I was sent to tell you.” He stopped breathlessly, bending over and placing his hands on his knees. “Orders of William Hayes.” He gasped.

“William Hayes? Damn, I knew he was his type.” He looked at me regretfully while I stared at him, shocked. My father knew! Realisation dawned on me. He must have known for some time, perhaps had been told by our family lawyer who I had arranged the deal with. The lawyer had been adamant I tell my father; it looked like he had saved me the trouble. My father had let it go this far to prove a point, to cause me humiliation. I felt deeply angry that he would continue to act out his false parental instincts but oddly relieved as well. At least this proved he did care for me a little. Deep in my heart I knew I could never have gone through with this. I was a little disgusted with myself. Here was I, the ‘great rebel’, who had set back and waited for ‘Daddy’ to rescue him. Feeling defeated I closed my eyes tightly.

“He is to be prepared and taken to Master Daniel’s room.” The aide continued.

“Master Daniel? The ex-slave? I don’t know which one is luckier.” The man sighed, staring at me again. “Strange that William would arrange this, isn’t it? He usually keeps the best for himself.” Everyone around him murmured his or her agreement, while I gaped in astonishment. I wasn’t being released? What was my father up to?

Arms gathered my own and began to pull me to the exit. Numb I made no effort to resist. He had done this on purpose. He knew I was here and didn’t care. To my shame I felt tears fill my eyes.

“There, there my love.” The aide soothed. “It’s going to be okay.”

But it wasn’t going to be okay, not now. I had travelled all this way for proof about what I meant to my father and now I had my answer.

I meant nothing.

*~*~*
The bath was wonderful. The moment I slipped into the steaming water and the aide’s hands started to caress me, my misery evaporated. I forgot all about my father, my mother and my predicament, because all that mattered were those expert hands lovingly exploring my body. I writhed beneath them, threw back my head and moaned little oaths of worship. But then I was pulled from that dreamy water. Roughly they dried me off and quickly began to prepare me. My body was covered with dust that created a golden sheen, my eyes had eyeliner applied to make them appear larger and my lips were rouged. Finally they began on my hair, for what seemed like hours they arranged my locks into tight, wet dreadlocks. While my scalp ached from the expert attention all I could do was stare at the transformation in the mirror…and feel the rising panic in my stomach.

Once the makeover was complete, I was pushed to the floor. I groaned for mercy as they applied cuffs to my hands and bound them behind my back. Manacles were crudely attached to my feet and my cries were cut short by a firm slap to my face and a gag round my mouth. I struggled against my bonds but the attendants reprimanded such gestures with blows to my naked, exposed back. Once again I was dragged to my feet as they pulled me along a dark corridor. My feet barely touched the floor below me.

“This is it.” The man who held my left arm said. “Open the door, Marco.” I was pushed into the room, stubbornly I stuck my heels into the floor as I took in the sight before me.
In the bleak, dark chamber stood a wrought iron canopy bed. It’s presence almost colossal-like in the virtually empty room. But it wasn’t the bed that startled me, but the one who lay upon it. Naked and entangled in the black silk sheets slept a man. No older then me, perhaps even younger. The aides won their fight as they pushed me, grabbing me roughly they threw me to the foot of the bed.

“Master Daniel? Your slave is here.” The man didn’t awake so ‘Marco’ was given the task of disturbing him. He nudged his shoulder and repeated his name loudly. Daniel on waking and seeing Marco before him, reacted panic stricken. He pushed himself up against the bed and then stared around in complete confusion.

“Your slave, Master Daniel? Remember?” Marco pressed, staring intently at the frightened man. “What’re your orders.”

The young man opened his mouth to speak but no sound left his lips. Shaking his head, as if clearing it. He attempted again. “My orders?” The voice was low and husky. Almost as if dust lay upon his voice box.

“What would you have us do? Do you need our assistance?” Finally my Master’s eyes came to rest upon me. His eyes widened and he took a sharp intake of breath. He held it for a long time. Then the air left his mouth like a snake’s hiss. He looked back to the attendants.

“Leave us for now. I’ll call when I need you.” The words were confident but the delivery was not. His emerald eyes darted nervously around the room as he climbed from the bed. “Now, please.” He repeated and the aides left quickly, not even shooting us a backward glance.

He sat with his head in his hands for a long moment. “My slave.” He whispered sounding almost amused by this. Tilting his head he threw a sideline glance at me, while I tried to avert my gaze from his beautiful nude frame.

“Stand up. Do you need help?” He asked in his low voice. I shook my head and struggled to my feet, keeping my eyes to the floor.

Daniel rose from the bed and approached me. Stopping inches from me, I could feel his hot breath on my scalp as if piercing me. Slowly he walked round me. He felt the lower base of my back, trailing my spine with his long fingers and whispering to himself. Coming to face me again he tipped my chin upward, so that I was staring into his intensely green eyes.

“Why did you do this to yourself, Darren?” He whispered. “I would love nothing more then to show you the love you no doubt yearned for growing up. But there is no love here. However there is violence and there is pain, and there is hatred. There is no room here for love. Even I have to play my part.” He smiled sadly. “I think that’s the most I’ve said since I’ve been here.” The smile slipped and his face grew serious again. ”Darren…my part…it’s…It is the part anyone else can do, and if I refuse it someone else will do it and I’ll be punished. No matter how we proceed William Hayes will get us to play the roles we must.” My eyes felt too large for my face as I stared intently at him. The sadness in his voice, the sorrow in his eyes. It was almost too much for me to take.

“I…” But he silenced me with a finger to my lips.

“You must never talk unless asked to, Darren. That is the first lesson I will teach you as a Master.” He took a step backward and ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s time to play our roles…” He whispered moving towards the door. “Come back in. He's ready for you.” My Master called.

Stunned I stared in confusion as the three aides returned. Daniel nodded his consent and they pounced. Grabbing my arms and legs they threw me face down the bed. Marco held my shoulders down as the other two held my legs. I struggled against them and I struggled against my bonds as Daniel approached my bed.

“I’m sorry, Darren.” He moaned as he entered me, pain coursing through my body “I’m so sorry.”

*~*~*

For hours it seemed I was used and abused in every way possible. By the aides, by my Master. I lay upon the stained sheets. My knees pulled up to my head. Sometime during the assault I’d felt myself go physically and mentally numb. But now, hours later, that numbness was fading. Too my surprise I felt the damp pillow beneath my cheek as tears ran down my face. The pain from the rape, the beating and the lashings dominated my whole body. I longed for that numbness. I longed to be the person I was before I entered the room. In those desperate moments I even longed for death.

Then gentle hands caressed my aching back, the fingers soaked in ointment. Too weak to even cower I allowed those fingers to rub the ointment into my back. It cooled the fiery passion of the cuts in my skin and the calming manner in which it was applied helped me drift off.

I think my Master whispered something to me, something soothing. But I fell into darkness without hearing the words.
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Pleasure Island-By LindaG and Foraoo.