Chapter 7

The door opens behind me and I hear the tap-tap of stiletto heels on stone. I'm back to the first time I was brought to this chamber. I would gladly have my left arm hacked off with a blunt knife and no anesthesia than relive even a second of what she put me through and what he allowed her to put me through but the images, the fear and terror can't be stopped.

The bitch has only been in the same room as me whilst I was conscious once but I still can't describe her. All I know about her, if it is the same woman (and I use that term very, very loosely) each time, is that she has a British accent, (a very high-class British accent) and inch long blood-red nails. About a month after I arrived, we were all in this very room where I learned that not all punishment is painful and not all play is fun.

I was on the frame, naked and spread-eagled. My back was towards the only door so I didn't see her enter, just heard the sound of her stilettos on the stone floor. Derek was standing in front of me, a triangular piece of black silk in his hand, flicking it over my face and chest, drawing it slowly over my hard, sensitive nipples down to drape it over my erect cock. He looked over my shoulder at her entrance, something between a smile and a frown forming on his tanned face. His silk covered hand grasped my cock lightly as he pumped it once, twice, three times. It should have been enough to send me over the edge but a cock ring kept me from shooting my semen all over Derek and the floor.

Our visitor came up behind me and I turned my head, hoping to get a glimpse of her mysterious face, only to earn a stinging slap from Derek. He didn't have to say anything to tell me that I was to stand still and not move unless ordered otherwise. Derek leant against me, crushing my painfully hard cock against the belt of his pants. The woman was pressed against my back, and with me caught in the middle, they embraced, their arms around my waist, their mouths meeting over my right shoulder. Their combined breathes tickled my ear, his smelling of tobacco and whiskey, hers of curry and red wine. They kissed each other deeply, both of their chins at one time digging painfully into my collarbone. Derek is one hell of a great kisser and I could tell exactly what he was doing to her just by the sounds she was making. Moans and groans, even a tiny choking one as he forced his tongue as far down her throat as it would reach.

Their hands roamed my body, his on top of hers as he guided them over my skin. He was teaching her my most sensitive zones of which there were plenty, the curve of my hips, the fold where thigh met buttocks, the backs of my knees. They broke apart only to continue the lesson with their tongues and teeth. Him attacking my chest and nipples and throat while she nipped and nuzzled and licked my shoulder blades, back and the nape of my neck. The lesson did not include my ass or cock and balls. These were ignored but not for long as I was to find out in the coming hours. I was grateful for the padded shackles that held me upright for without them I would have collapsed in a jellied, boneless heap when they finally released me from the double embrace after what seemed like hours but was probably only ten or fifteen mind-blowing minutes.

Derek and the woman moved off to the side, out of my vision, where I heard the clink of glasses and the fizz of champagne. They were talking in normal tones, but I was already well trained not to eavesdrop on my master's private conversation, whether he was on the phone in bed still buried deep inside me or sitting at the table for dinner parties with business associates with me kneeling at his feet naked except for diamond and emerald encrusted collar and cuffs.

A few minutes later, twin footsteps announced their return, Derek standing once more in front of me, the woman at my back, still unseen by my exhausted eyes. The silk still covered my cock, which was still as hard as ever. I felt Derek place his right hand between my parted legs, his eyes locked on the face of our guest, his left holding my swollen balls. After a moment he pulled his right hand back but now it was a fist, holding her smaller hand in his larger, rougher one. He placed her hand over the silk on my cock, wrapping her slim fingers around one corner as he tightened his own grip on the fabric.

With a nod, the cool silk was drawn back between my legs maintaining constant contact with my balls and perineum. Sharp nails parted my cheeks and the cloth was dragged deep between them, back and forth, quick and slow, over and over. I was so aroused and ready I was sure I was going to explode, the cock-ring flying off my cock to land halfway across the cold chamber. But it held tight and agonizing despite the enormous pressure that had built up.

One finger, the index one I think, pushed up into me without warning, without lube or hesitation. I grimaced at the pain, moving forward towards Derek, away from my tormentor. Derek simply dropped his end of the cloth and placed his hands on my hips, holding me immobile, pushing my ass back so that I was impaled further on her finger which was soon joined by another and then a third. Derek had always taken time to prepare me, to stretch my anus even when he sedated me before fucking me. This penetration was painful in the extreme, the rough nap of the silk irritating my inner passage, the fingers thrusting in and out, soft flesh ripped by sharp, curved claws. Her teeth bit the soft skin of my throat, drew blood, which she quickly swallowed, the suction of her lips created more pain, more humiliation. I cried out, feeling the tears streaming down my cheeks. I couldn't believe Derek would allow me to be treated this way, just for the pleasure and gratification of a woman. When I looked up at him, he was smiling at us both, his joy filled eyes flicking between me and her.

"Shush, Alex. I'll let you come soon, sweetheart. I promise." He crooned, stroking my sweat-damp hair, his fingers wiping the wetness away. "Just a little bit longer. You can hold on until then, can't you?" It was a statement not a question. Even if he had asked my opinion I had no breath to give one, all my energy focused on enduring the pain and pleasing my Master. I just nodded, resting my tired head on his broad shoulder.

"Answer me Alex. You want to please me, to please her?" He commanded, raising my head by the power of his voice alone.

"Yes, Master." I said as her probing fingers withdrew from my ass. I saw those fingers, those invaders, briefly as she placed the silk cloth over my eyes, felt them tie the blindfold tightly behind my head, a few strands of hair catching painfully in the knot.

"Good boy."

His voice was a lifeline in the darkness that surrounded me, one I grabbed onto again and again over the next few hours. In contrast was her voice, a cultured anchor, weighted with blue-blooded breeding and an education from the finest private schools, that wrapped itself around my mind as the wet lashes of the whips wrapped around my battered body, pulling me so deep down into the murky pain-filled depths that at times I was sure I would drown.

But my Master was there the whole time, even when he was following her instructions and inflicting the pain himself, I knew he would not let me drown. He let me stop breathing a few times, of that I'm certain. But I would always find myself floating up towards consciousness, feel his strong arms around me, wiping away the blood and sweat and tears, soothing the burns and welts. He would support me, whispering comforting words in my ear, holding me as I recovered enough so she could continue.

He even released me from the frame for a short while, lying me on a thick fur rug on the floor and made the sweetest love to me that I had ever experienced. I had dimly heard the heavy door open and close just before he unlocked the shackles around my wrists and ankles and removed the blindfold. I guessed that she had left the room and prayed that she wouldn't return. I begged him not to let her back in, that I couldn't take any more of her sadistic games.

"It's okay, Alex. She just gets carried away sometimes. She's never actually killed anyone."

Gee, that made me feel so much better.

Not.

He nuzzled my neck, kissing each bite and burn and scar that they had left on my previously unmarked flesh. "You won't suffer any permanent damage. I'll protect you." He removed the cock-ring and jerked me off with only two strokes, the pleasure of finally coming taking the edge off the pain that had enveloped my entire body. "I promised you the day I took you off the streets that I would not allow anyone to hurt you ever again. I won't break that promise now or in the future."

"But she is hurting me," I pleaded. I loathed him a little and hated her a lot that day. "And you are letting her."

"You have no concept of what she can and would do if I was not here to keep some of her darker fantasies in check."

He sounded almost hypnotized, as if he were still under her evil spell, under her control, spouting words of her choosing like a ventriloquist's dummy. His deep blue eyes were glazed over and dreamy-looking. He continued to stroke and kiss and pet me, but it was without feeling or emotion.

"She can take your deepest, most terrifying fears, even those you aren't aware of and make them frighteningly real. She is immune to your screams and pain. They are food to her; they sustain her as oxygen sustains us. And the more you give her, the more you beg and plead and scream, the more she takes and the hungrier she becomes."

The tone of his voice left me in no doubt that he had at least witnessed her in action perhaps even having actual personal experience of what he was describing to me.

"I would rather kill us both than let her use your fears to satisfy herself. I made that mistake with Billy and lost him."

He seemed to regain his focus and he covered my mouth with his in a lengthy kiss that was hard and brutal and yet, somehow soft and sensual at the same time. He gazed deep into my eyes, drawing me deep into his and I sensed that he was maybe saying goodbye, taking one last look at me.

Footsteps on the stairs signaled her return and Derek fitted the metal ring once more over my still swollen shaft, lifted me upright and guided me back over to the frame. I thought of resisting but I had barely enough energy left to stand, let alone escape. His arm around my waist kept me from falling as he secured the iron manacles around my bruised and bloodied wrists and ankles. A leather belt around my waist was connected with strong heavy chain to the frame, with a choke-chain snug around my throat ensured I couldn't move more than half an inch in any direction if I didn't want to choke myself to death.

Just before the door opened, Derek whispered to me. "Only a little while longer. She'll be gone in the morning. Just remember that you love me, Alex. And I love you."

That was the one and so far only time he has said that to me. I don't expect ever to hear it again.

The door closed and I could hear him talking to her, his voice worried and harsh, hers petulant and stubborn.

"You've gone too far. He's not ready for this sort of treatment." Derek said, real concern for my welfare flooding his words. Or maybe he was just worried that I'd be out of action for too long, leaving him without his current plaything. In my heart I hoped it was the former, but my mind and cold logic told me it was the latter driving him. I'd only just recovered enough from my ordeal on the streets of D.C to serve him in bed. I had been under no illusion as to what was required of me in return for the food and shelter I'd had so little of for the previous three months and I was more than willing to comply.

"I know what I'm doing, Derek. He'll live. He'll feel a little sore and sorry for himself for a few days but he won't suffer any permanent damage," she snarled, flinging his own words back in his face, letting him know that she overheard his reassurances. "You always did have a soft spot for pretty young men. There are plenty more like him out there. Can I help it if the prettiest ones are also the most tasty?" Her voice had softened to a sensual purr and I could imagine her rubbing up against him like a cat. No. Like a bitch in heat. "Don't I always deliver the best to you? Wasn't Billy the most exquisite specimen, so fresh, so innocent on the surface? But a goldmine of fear and darkest despair on the inside. Truly a one-of-a-kind feast, not the pitiful snacks you've served up lately."

I didn't have to see her to know who she was referring to.

"At least let me make it a little easier for him. Please?" She grunted once, her disgust at Derek's "softness" clearly evident.

"If you haven't the stomach, then leave."

"I promised him I would stay. You know I don't share your passion for this sort of thing."

"How do you propose to make things easier for him?"

She had moved close behind me and her hands were playing with the choker around my throat, pulling it tighter and tighter until I was sure I was going to pass out.

"I'll lower him down but I will not, under any circumstances, close the opening."

The chain loosened as he removed her hands and I could breathe again and concentrate fully on what was being planned for me. I started to panic and thrash in my restraints, begging and pleading for mercy.

"Alex. Be still!" It was an order I had no choice but to obey. Resistance would only cause him to relent even further to her desires in order to demonstrate his control over me. I could only trust that he would keep his word and not totally enclose me in darkness.

He promised me, no he *SWORE* to me, that he would not inflict my most dreaded, terrifying nightmare on me, no matter what I might do that displeased him and especially no matter what that bitch wanted him to do just for a little fun.

"Just being down there will generate all the fear you want. No need to destroy the boy's mind and the opportunity for future sessions."

My Master's voice grew deeper and more seductive as he bargained for my sanity. I could see him just out of the corner of my eye. The movement of his hands suggesting he was undressing her and I could picture the rest of his seduction in my mind's eye. His caresses would grow softer as his cock grew harder, his lips and hands worshipping her flesh as he uncovered it inch by inch.

He refused to look me in the eye as he operated the controls that lowered the frame into the dark, narrow crevice. He chose instead to take her in his arms, covering her skin with kisses and whispering terms of endearment to her, when I was the one in desperate need of his touch and reassurance.

The panic attack began before my knees reached the level of the stone floor and was in full swing by the time I was underground. I was sweating profusely and hyperventilating. He had loosened the collar enough so that I could tilt my head back and see the rectangular opening above me that was the only thing stopping me from descending into total madness.

I could hear them fucking each other, with my screams as a soundtrack, seemingly urging them on to fuck faster, harder and louder. After the longest half-hour of my life Derek raised the frame and released me. He eased me to the floor and held onto me for hours, rocking my trembling body and trying to sooth my terror-filled mind with soft kisses and gentle words. The bitch had taken one look at us and stormed out in disgust at such a pitiful sight. I was a basket case for days after; terrified of being left alone, having to sleep with bright lights burning all night. I was useless to my employer, unable to carry out the most basic tasks. Why he didn't dump me back on the streets I don't know. I obviously still had some talent or skill that made me worthwhile.

She has returned since but Derek has always given me the safety net of drugs whenever she decides she wants to play with me. I'm only ever left with the marks on my body as clues as to the games she likes to play. Derek told me the frame-slot no longer turns her on as it's no fun when the victim isn't conscious and aware of being tortured. She only tolerates Derek tranquilizing me as she knows that is the only way he will allow her to have access to my body. My mind is off limits to her and that totally pisses her off.

I never thought he had the guts to stand up to her, to defy her demands. I'd like to think that he hadn't had anyone worth standing up for before me, but I had heard snatches of conversations as I come out of drugged slumber. Mentions of Billy, and how she was to blame for hurting him so badly that he fled the country. Clearly evident in Derek's voice was his guilt of not protecting his cherished Billy, of letting her sink her claws into him.

All of a sudden I snap out of the flashback. Nothing has changed. I'm still entombed in suffocating silence and darkness. But now I have plans of escape and revenge to occupy my mind until Derek decides to end my punishment. My target is not only Derek and his betrayal, but also the one whose careless action sentenced me to this torture.

Now that Derek has done that which he promised never to do, I can never trust him again and that's what hurts most of all. Another thing that Mulder is to blame for, even if he is here against his will. And to think that just hours ago I thought having Mulder back in my life (and hopefully in my bed) was the best thing that could ever happen; that it could only strengthen my relationship with Derek perhaps even elevate me to his lover rather than just his slave and fuck-toy.

I trusted Derek with my life before this but that protective shell has cracked. And it was our "guest" who landed the blow that shattered the once unbreakable bond between a Master and his slave.

I did my job as instructed, delivered the package undamaged and was in the process of gift wrapping it for my Master's pleasure when Mulder kicked out at me and lost his balance. He was the one who did wrong, who deserved to be punished, not me.

But no. He gets the soft mattress and expensive furnishings and medical attention while I, who did nothing wrong, who was only following orders, am banished to a dark, claustrophobic pit. He gets my lover, my Master, pawing and drooling over him while I'm left alone down here in the silence with only my fear and nightmares for company.

Finally sheer exhaustion overtakes me and I awake an unknown time later to the noise of stone sliding apart and the mechanism that lowered the frame rumbling to life. I'm lifted slowly out of my tomb and laid, frame and all, on the cold stone floor.

Silky soft hair brushes my face, but I just don't have the energy to open my eyes to confirm the identity of my rescuer. My numb and bloody wrists and ankles are freed from the shackles. I wake a little more when cool, stinging alcohol is wiped across the lacerations and they are wrapped in soft cloth.

My arms are placed by my side and as blood rushes back into them, feeling returns beginning as a tingling sensation that quickly becomes uncomfortable verging on agonizing. I cry out and try to move in a useless effort to escape the pain. Someone begins massaging my limbs and the pain slowly eases.

"Water." I'm not even aware of speaking but obviously my body knows what it needs to begin healing.

A stiff straw is pushed between my cracked, bleeding lips and precious liquid flows down my ravaged throat. It's withdrawn before my thirst is satisfied and I reach in vain for it as I open my eyes for the first time since my prayers were answered.

The sight that I see makes me wonder if I'm still trapped underground, still hallucinating the comforting presence of my beloved mother.

"Mama?"

"It's Dr Conway, Alex. Derek's physician."

She lets a little more water trickle down my throat as she helps me sit up, supporting my trembling body.

I realize I'm still in the stone walled room and one of Derek's thugs is standing guard at the open doorway.

I retreat into the safety of the doctor's arms, terrified that he is here to lower me back into hell. This must just be a temporary reprieve, a brief respite of my punishment and that I have yet to satisfy Derek that I have learnt my lesson.

"Don't... please don't let him...back down... Won't survive any more." I'm scooting backwards, trying to put as much distance between him and me as is possible in the small chamber.

"It's ok, Alex. He's here to help you upstairs, that's all." She hasn't released her hold on me. I feel her rubbing my back with gentle circular motions and her voice is quiet and soothing. She keeps this up until I'm able to struggle to my feet, my body still weak, my mind still in shock and denial that my ordeal really is over.

"Sam will help you shower and dress. Derek wants to see you at breakfast."

If she thinks knowing the thug's name will make us instant best friends then she is more in the dark about what happened down here than I thought. She may not even be aware that I just spent the last few hours in a dark, claustrophobic pit so narrow I could have licked the moisture of the slimy walls with my tongue had I thought to do so. I'm guessing she wasn't let into the room until I had been retrieved from the pit. I don't ever recall her being very concerned about my well-being. I'm just someone she patches up occasionally so that our employer isn't inconvenienced. I didn't even know her name until just now.

She gestures for me to step over the frame lying on the floor and all of a sudden pure rage explodes out of me and I'm kicking at the solid wood and trying to tear it apart with my bare hands. I shove the doctor away from me and am so totally focused on my task of destruction that I barely hear her tell the bodyguard to let me be, that I need to get it out of my system, that she is in no danger.

As quickly as it arrived, the adrenaline-rush runs out and I collapse to the floor in a sobbing, exhausted heap. My knuckles are sore and bloody and I've torn a few fingernails, perhaps even busted a toe or two. But I feel no pain except that of a broken heart and battered soul. I don't resist as I'm guided to my feet and escorted (practically carried) up the two flights of stairs to my Spartan quarters.

Sam strips me and holds me upright under the steaming shower, then dries and dresses me, adding the necessary accessories so that I can resume my duties and serve my Master once more. He is surprisingly gentle as he shaves my cock and balls then cleans me out and lubes me before carefully inserting the butt plug. I am sort of grateful for the help as it leaves my mind free to begin repairing itself in anticipation of gaining my freedom and control of my life.

I know I'm in no shape (either physical or mental) to fight back yet and so will have to play the willing, submissive companion my Master is expecting for a few more days, but I know now that I will escape this place or die trying.

END OF CHAPTER 7