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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.

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Broken

***Anton Caplan ***

I watched the latest batch of candidates. Some were smug. Some complacent. Some were openly proud and defiant. My gaze settled on the one who easily seemed the most terrified… of the men. He was young. Pretty. Beautiful black hair.

I secured my airplane. One of the attendants saw me looking and walked over.

“A near perfect specimen, that one.”

I nodded silently, and watched the way he moved. Nervous but graceful. I licked my lips and swallowed. The attendant grinned.

“Normally, the slaves have to complete training before receiving visitors, but since the trainers have completed training, perhaps something might be arranged?”

I looked at him. Was he trying to bribe me? Or curry favor with Hayes? Hayes wasn’t a man to fool around with. And this job paid more than any I could find in the real world. Still.

I looked toward the building the slaves-in-training had disappeared into.

“What’s the catch and what’ll it cost? I happen to like being IN Mr. Hayes’ employment. I don’t fancy losing such a cushy job.”

The attendant looked around and I immediately felt in the better position.

“There’s no catch, Mr. Anton. I—I just need a favor.”

I looked up, as if considering. Of course I wanted to get inside, but I didn’t want him to know how badly.

“Please, sir. I can assure you, Mr. Hayes need not know. It would be bad for myself as well. Very bad.”

“Okay. What is it?”

~*~ Daniel ~*~

I woke with a start, forgetting for a moment where I was, not recognizing anything or anyone.

I scooted away from the figure looming over me, not thinking of the beating such an action would earn me. I stopped when my raw back made contact with the cold metal behind me and looked around, trying to remember.

The voice spoke again and I forced myself to focus. It wasn’t William Hayes. It was Marco. Telling me the words I didn’t want to hear. Reminding me of the task I didn’t want and never asked for.

I shook my head. I didn’t want to do this, I knew that now, but there would be no quarter given if I didn’t. I knew that, too. Five years is a long time to make no sound, other than the guttural language that was expected, but I found it was like many activities. Once learned, you don’t forget.

I questioned what Marco said and he repeated it. I looked around the room and for a moment I wondered where my pallet had gone. Perhaps I’d give my slave the bed — but no, William Hayes had been specific. I was to use the bed.

Then I looked down at the foot of the bed I had found myself on, and my heart stopped. This was the son of William Hayes? How was it possible? He was too soft, too smooth, too pale, too… beautiful. I realized the attendants were waiting. I spoke yet again.

“Leave us for now. I’ll call when I need you.”

It was easier to speak this time. After they left, I questioned Darren. He didn’t look stupid, but he had obviously not thought things through clearly. And it was my godforsaken task to teach him that.

I ordered him to stand and looked him over after he’d stumbled to his feet. Ghosted my fingers over his smooth skin. My chest tightened painfully. He was stunning and I didn’t want to mar that perfection. But if I didn’t, I knew someone else would. Perhaps even Mr. Hayes himself.

I tried to explain all this to Darren. Tried to prepare him for what I had to do. It was more than I’en gen given when I was brought here. But where I hurt, deep inside, I knew William Hayes had not. The fact that his son was here, being subjected to our tender mercies was proof of that. Not that I had ever doubted it in my time here.

All I could do was apologize as we began. It wasn’t enough, I knew, for him or for myself.

Darren screamed, just as I had five years ago. Screamed and cursed and struggled. I withdrew into myself, let the animal in me come to the fore. Let it do what needed to be done to survive another day.

My mind is still hazy about everything. The animal part of me has no memory. It’s safer that way. If I could remember every depravity that had been forced on me, that I had been forced to do to survive, I think I’d be insane right now.

I know that Marco and the other two were some of the same who had used me my first day. They excelled at quickly breaking the spirit of a person. Or at least the body.

Marco could come just from whipping a man. Hadrian and Gavin had to hear screaming. Derived pleasure from knowing they could hurt someone and not be punished for it.

Eventually the animal withdrew and I was forced to confront what we had done. Darren had been whipped, beaten, and fucked at both ends. Several times.

Marco raised the whip again. They still hadn’t had enough, but I had. I couldn’t stomach any more. I pushed them off. Screamed at them to get out, but I grabbed Marcus.

“The key!” I demanded hoarsely. I’d used my voice too much.

He glared at me, but now that I was a Dominant, he dared not refuse me. He slapped the key onto my palm, then walked out behind the others. I’d be damned if he was allowed to touch Darren again.

I looked back to the bed where Darren sobbed quietly. I hated myself at that moment and I don’t know why. How could Darren have done this to me, with just a look?

At least I’d kept them from tearing his skin the way they’d torn mine. He was bleeding some, but it would heal… maybe… if I was allowed to let it heal.

While he lay on the bed, curled like a baby, I looked around my changed room. An assortment of whips hung from the walls now, in addition to other sadistic items.

Absently I picked up the whip Marco had used and looked at the blood now staining several of the straps. I remembered having to clean the whip that had been used on me. I could barely move that next day and because I had taken so long, I had to clean it again the day after that as well. I dropped the whip, rather than hang it back where it belonged.

In the five years I’d been here, the training had changed. If they had ever left me in a room like this alone, I’d have hung myself. But then, I forget. I was sold into this life. Darren came willingly. At least, supposedly. But after seeing his eyes, eyes full of despair and abandonment, I’m not so sure.

I don’t know. I’m confused again. I know what William Hayes told me, but I also know what my slave instincts tell me. And something conflicts somewhere. I don’t know what to think or what to do.

Looking through the chest sitting on the floor to one side of the whips, I found what I was hoping for. A jar of the antiseptic cream.

I went back to the bed and unlocked the manacles, throwing them against the wall in disgust. Then I unfastened the handcuffs and threw them, too. The only rebellion I was capable of at the moment.

His wrists were raw and bleeding, but I’d take care of them later. Right now, remembering my own experiences, I wanted to take care of his back first.

Climbing carefully onto the bed, so as to not jar him further, I opened the container and scooped a generous amount with each hand. I used the tips of my fingers to spread it on gently over his battered body.

He moaned softly. I shivered. His voice, his screams, were like nothing I’d ever heard. Nor was I likely to again. Except as the trained moans and screams we all learned to make.

Then I made what would likely turn out to be a serious error in judgment on my part.

I told Darren not to worry. I told him I wouldn’t let anyone else hurt him again.

When I finished my ministrations to his back I noticed he was asleep. I did his wristst ant and he whimpered quietly, too exhausted to wake from the sting I knew the cream initially caused.

When I finished, I lay down beside him, listening to him breathe. Another error in judgment, I suppose; but one that made sense to my tired mind at the time.

As I lay there my insides twisted. I had beaten a man. Treated him as I’d been treated. I felt sick. I couldn’t have done any differently. Marco would have run straight to Hayes. I hadn’t lied to Darren. His father would have his way with us. One way or another.

I can’t do that again… I can’t. I ran a hand through my hair as tears began to fall. I haven’t cried since that first week. What is wrong with me?

I looked at Darren’s sleeping form again. He seemed to be sleeping deeply. Pain and fear do that to you. I wondered if he would wake screaming from nightmares. I did. Every night for the first month. Sometimes I still do.

How could I protect him when I couldn’t protect myself? How could I do what I’d been ordered to do? How could I break him? I couldn’t. I knew that now. I couldn’t hurt Darren like that again. But if I couldn’t hurt him, I couldn’t protect him.

I groaned and ran both hands through my hair. The problem was driving me crazy. It was bad. For both of us.

With that terrible knowledge foremost in my brain, I fell into a troubled sleep.
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Pleasure Island-By LindaG and Foraoo.