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Here Be Dragons	By : drowsyfantasy Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 2701 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Rammstein. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
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- 6
Warning: This (and following chapters) may contain references to (and descriptions of) intense bodily harm/mutilation. Please do not read if you are not comfortable with it.

The Master never invites them to his bedroom.
Instead, he has a special room for his toys.
The play-room is equipped for a large number of people, in case the Master has guests who want to use his slaves simultaneously. There’s all sorts of restraints and wicked pieces of equipment.
Till and Schneider wait, side by side, on their knees, while the Master picks a few things off the wall. It’s a tense wait, with both men staring avidly at the floor.
Finally Till hears the jerking noise of his drummer being jerked to his feet, and led across the room. He dares look up, and the Master seems pleased that he’s being watched.
From his vantage point, the singer can watch as Schneider is bent over a short table, almost like a padded piano bench. His limbs are bound to its legs, but he is left ungagged. Till swallows. Whenever there’s no gag, it means that the Master wants to hear the slave screaming and suffering.
Schneider closes his eyes but Till is unable to; he watches as the Master approaches the bound man with a hot needle, a set of metal rings, and thick black ribbon. His stomach empties itself as he is forced to witness (or at least, to hear) the Master give the other man a corset piercing up his back.
Till can hear each chunk noise of the needle as it pierces through flesh. Schneider's screams are like a bell curve; they start off with bitten lips, trying not to cry out. Then they get louder as the pain breaks through any mental control. Chunk." AAAIIIIHHHHH!!!" Chunk. "Augh!" Chunk. Whimper. Chunk. Till can see the blood running down his back. Then, finally, the screams weaken, as the drummer loses the battle with coherency.
He pleads until he can’t speak anymore, gibbering in broken German (the Master and other servants only speak English) and wordless cries of agony.
Finally he is dumped upon the floor. Schneider is unable to move, lying on his stomach, twitching involuntarily and bleeding from the twenty fresh holes in his back. The black lacy ribbon snaking up between the rings make him look like a birthday present, waiting to be unwrapped.
Till would puke again if he had anything left in his stomach. Terrified that he might be next, he waits for the Master to give him the same. It doesn’t happen; instead, the Master bids Till suck his cock. A rather banal activity, but once he’s done, instead of more torture, they’re allowed to leave. The Master exits, leaving the two men alone in the play-room.
“Schneider. Can you hear me?” Till moves over to his friend’s side. Tears are still running down the drummer’s ruddy cheeks and he whimpers, looking up and making eye contact. “I’m going to carry you out.” He looks around the room for a call-bell but there isn’t one. Not knowing if he even has permission, the singer takes one of the cots from a stack against the wall and puts Schneider on it, face-down. He then wheels it out of the room and down the corridor, listening to the drummer cry softly the whole way back.
He reaches an impasse at the stairs. There is no elevator and no way to get the cot down without flipping.
“Schneider, can you walk?”
A huge sob tells him otherwise. “This is going to hurt. Brace yourself,” he mutters, feeling useless, and hoists the man into his arms. He does his best not to rip the skin but he can feel the drummer stiffen and cry out again. Till hurries down the stairs, trying to jostle him as little as possible, and walks to Schneider’s room, laying him face-down on the bed.
Paul has been watching from his bed, absolutely white.
“What the Hell…”
Till returns with tissues and ointment, cleaning up a few errant rips in the skin, and taking out the ribbon. Without the tension, the rings fall flat and Schneider visibly relaxes, though the singer knows he must be in so much pain.
“I’m surprised he didn’t pass out.” Till says gruffly, wiping his tears away. “You’re going to have to help him until these heal. Look, he can’t even move his arms without opening them up.” He scowls. “I’m going to kill that bastard; I don’t care about this law anymore. This is inhumane.”
Paul lays a hand over his, steady over the trembling of the singer’s rage. “Till.” He says calmly. “Go. I can take it from here.”
He moodily leaves, finding Richard lying on his bunk with a book.
“I heard the screaming,” he says quietly, “but you don’t look hurt. What did he do?”
“He gave Schneider a new set of piercings.” Till feels ill again, but manages to swallow. “Listen, let’s just leave him be for now. I don’t want to make him any more upset than he already is.”
Richard nods, then rolls over onto his side, watching as Till cleaned his piercings. He only goes to the bathroom when he has to clean ones he couldn’t see without a mirror.
“And if you’re about to ask – no, I don’t have any theories on why he didn’t hurt me, too.” Till says, looking up once he’s done. “All I had to do was watch, and then suck the bastard off.”
“Maybe that was your punishment. Watching him hurt someone else, knowing you couldn’t do anything to stop him.” Richard reasoned, rising to his feet, closing the door to their room and sitting down next to him on the bed, wrapping arms around the singer’s bulk.
Till closes his eyes. “He’s a sick man, Richard. He needs to be dead or in jail, somewhere he can’t hurt anyone.”
“I agree, but I don’t want you to go to prison either.” Says the muffled voice from his shoulder. The two men lay back and contemplate their situation in silence for a while.
As he drifts off to sleep, Till can hear Schneider crying again in the next room. Paul won’t get any rest tonight either…
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Here Be Dragons