Here's a treat for you if you can't find the type of pairing you like. The way this fic is written, you can imagine any male/male pairing you want! There are no physical descriptions.
So Enjoy!!
Warning! Some violence, blood and yaoi.
Disclaimer: I may have posted this under Yu-Gi-Oh, but there are no defined characters, but I do own the storyline...sort of...I'm sure someone else has thought of it...sorry if I've 'stolen' your idea!! If you want to use the fic and elaborate, please ask me first. Thank you.
Three Degrees of Variation
I could not tell you how long I have been here in this dungeon, shackled by my left ankle to the wall, which allows me to move about anywhere within my large cell but not reach the locked door. I am a prisoner of darkness, my 'Master', Lord over all he beholds. This is his Kingdom, but I don't belong here.
My Master is a Vampire, and all who live amongst him are Vampires too, which makes me an unusual rarity here. I am human. My cell is frequented by various nobles of his land, although they are not allowed to touch me by his order, only gaze and whisper through the bars. I cannot understand what they say, because it's in a language spoken only by the blood-suckers. I hate the way they stare at me, although to their credit, they do not look at me like I am food. They stare with fascination. As far as I can guess, either I am awed being the captive of my Master, or the nobles have never seen a live human before and have their much needed blood delivered to them, as fresh as can be, usually in the form of pre-slaughtered humans, killed within minutes of arrival and 'served' equally quickly.
But not my Master. He prefers a live meal, which is why I am here. I was taken from my bed when I was asleep one night, and I awoke here in the cell that I now call home. I have not yet been officially told my purpose, although I have guessed at that, and the constant stream of Vampires that attend to me do not speak to me.
My cell is comfortable and somehow kept at a good temperature so that I am never too cold in my loose-fitting robe. There is a pile of blankets and pillows for me to sleep on, a small table for me to sit at and in a smaller enclosure, a toilet. I am brought and it is to what would be considered a fairly decent standard. I am not fed scraps as I first expected I would be. I am also given reading material to keep me sane, but I find myself sleeping more often than not. There is never any natural light for me to know when time passes as there are no windows.
So I return to my statement that I do not know how long I have been here. I currently count time according to my Master's visits. He has visited my cell 345 times since I first awoke here, but I have no idea of how much time passes between them. For all I know, it could be a daily occurrence.
I await each visit with trepidation. He is unpredictable, but I have noticed that when he comes, two things always happen and they can happen three different ways: he drinks some of my blood and then I am raped. This can be done gently, almost erotically, quick and hard with no prior 'foreplay', or the worst, I am beaten like a cur and violently torn in two. I deem these to be the three degrees of variation of my Master's moods; good, normal and foul.
A female vampire will sometimes accompany him down to my cell to bathe me. Normally, a wooden tub is brought down to the cell with lukewarm water therein for me to wash. As a captive, I don't care that I am filthy or smell; I was put in this situation unwillingly, so I am unwilling to make anything easy or pleasant for them, for him. But, ultimately, I will start feeling disgusted with myself and scrub my skin as hard as I can.
The first few times the female tried to do her job, I resisted. Of course she was stronger than me and in my Master's presence she never dared to strike me, but her frustration was apparent. He chuckled at my efforts, but eventually, she got my clothes off and dunked me unceremoniously in the tub. After the third time, it became common practice to inject me with a sedative upon arrival which would cause my body to become heavy, like lead, and I would feel slightly sleepy, although I would never actually fall asleep. I would be unable to struggle as I am stripped of my robe and bathed gently by the female, her strokes to my skin soft and delicate. She washes every inch of me, paying special attention to my neck, and all the while this was happening, he would be watching, a hungry look in his eyes staring at my naked body. After a while, he would dismiss her, much to her apparent disappointment, and then he would take her place. I have no idea why he has her do this in the first place since he could just as easily do it all himself. Perhaps it is to tease her? Perhaps it turns him on to see her washing me?
He holds me close to his hard body and washes me with the same gentleness the female had. He cleans me and then drops the sponge and brings me to hardness with his one hand, the other pressing fingers with soft oils deep inside me, preparing me for what would come later.
At the same time, he breathes deeply against my neck, perhaps smelling my blood though my skin. Occasionally, his tongue would drag across my skin causing me to shudder with dreaded anticipation. I think that as time went on, not only was I drugged so that I wouldn't be able to resist, but by the time my Master took over from the attendant, my body was so electrified that every touch was enhanced. I didn't want to feel like this, but I had no choice. He grew to know what made me moan and where my most sensitive spots were.
Eventually, his ministrations make me come in his hand and my muscles contract around his fingers, and then I know it's was time. With his hand still firmly gripping my slowly softening erection, he withdraws his fingers from my entrance and tilts my head so the skin is taut and then, he bites me. I would be so numb from the drugs and the orgasm that I hardly feel a pinch. Unfortunately, once he extracts his fangs and begins sucking my neck to gather the blood, it feels pleasurable.
I don't know how much blood he would drain, but it would seem to go on forever before he stops and licks my neck one more time. Once he'd taken my blood, he undoes his trousers and releases his monster manhood and impales me, either by lifting my body clean off the ground and onto his rod, my legs held effortlessly wide apart and my ankle chain clinking with each movement he makes, or by laying me on my side on my bed of pillows and blankets and entering me at a strange angle, all the while putting a hand over my mouth to stop my cries of pain and pleasure and whispering to me even though I could not understand. More often than not, I would come again, much to my shame.
Eventually, he would come inside me and bite me again, draining more blood while he comes down from his high. At this point, I usually pass out from the lack of blood and would awake later, clean of his semen and clothed in my robe again, as if it had not happened. The soft throbbing of my anus, and my neck where he bit me would be a reminder that it had though.
Most of the visits, I would be just about to drop off to sleep and he would come down the stone steps to my cell, unlock the door and pounce on me like a wild animal. No matter how many times it had happened in the past, it still frightened me, because, for all I knew, that time would be my last moment alive.
He would pin me to the floor, allowing me to struggle, loosen his grip and let me scuttle away only to grab my leg and haul me back near him. In retrospect, I would say he is 'playing with his food', like a cat plays with a mouse. He is also very animalistic and cruel, grinning sadistically and growling, showing his fangs, and once again, his hunger is apparent.
When my blood is truly pumping through my veins and my fear absolute, he would lift me up so that my back is against his chest, one of his strong arms around my shoulders, either kneeling on the floor with my legs tight together and him dominating me with his legs spread, also kneeling or he would stand us up and push me fact first into one of the stone walls, his strong hands gripping my hips painfully, sure to leave bruises.
It was one of the only times he would speak to me so I could understand him. 'Are you afraid of me?' he always asks, his mouth pressed to my ear and his breath hot against my skin, his voice deep and authoritative. I nod my head, nearly hyperventilating from fear. He would smile, although I could not see him, and whisper, 'Good!'
He would then yank my head painfully to the side and bite hard. It hurt and I would cry out in pain. It is not the sort of thing you get used to, no matter how often it is done, and the sound of the blood rushing in my ears as it leaves my body is the worst I have ever heard.
If we are against the wall, as he is feeding from me, he lifts my robe and pushes un-lubricated fingers into me and probes hard and fast. He is not doing this for my pleasure, and I don't care. I just want him to get it over with. Eventually, he kicks my feet apart, lines up and rams into me, pounding mercilessly from the start, grunting with each thrust. If we are on our knees, he would stop feeding and push me over so my arse is up in the air and he would grip one of my arms painfully behind my back preventing me from moving.
His movements are hard and deep and fast. If standing up, I brace my hands against the wall to stop my body from being slammed into it. Since he wants total control, he'll often let go of my hips, and pull my arms from the wall and put them both behind my back, holding them firm with one hand, the other pushing my head sideways into the wall. He then speeds up, not caring if he's hurting me or not, my cries obviously music to his ears.
With an animalistic snarl, he comes so hard that I feel it overflowing my opening and down my legs before he has withdrawn. He doesn't bite me again, but he leaves quickly with a disgusted look on his face, as if having sex with a human was an intolerable act, but necessary. Once he leaves, I break down and cry until I fall asleep. Although this is the 'norm', it still breaks me every time.
But, this is reasonable behaviour compared to the rare times that I would be beaten to the point of near death. It has only happened three times so far, but they were worst than anything I had experienced here or ever before.
I have no idea of what affects my Master's moods as I have never been introduced to his world outside of my cell, but I would imagine that something terrible has would have happened to cause him to lose his temper quite so badly.
The door at the top of the stairs would shatter sending splinters down the steps and have me cowering in the corner furthest from the cell door knowing what was to come. But I couldn't hide from him. I had nowhere to go. He would stalk into the cell after ripping the door from its hinges in a grandiose show of his strength, and fling it across the room. The clanking of the iron on the stone floor made my blood run colder.
The next few moments would be a blur of movement. I would be hauled off the floor and flung about like a rag doll and inevitably because of his might, bones would be broken. If I came to a short stop, I'd plead for him to be merciful, but it would fall on deaf ears. His eyes glowed red when he was like this and he would snarl at each of my pleas.
When he'd had enough of throwing me around, he would hold me up and slap my face until I could barely see through my swollen eyes, uttering curses and screaming at me though I couldn't understand him. Two brave cohorts would rush in and pull him off me before he killed me and he would turn on them too, sending them flying with kicks or punches. This would let off some of his built up steam, dealing with slightly stronger opponents, and he would turn back to me, eyes still glowing red.
Incapacitated, I could never move to get away, and he would drop on top of me and rip the robe from my body. He would bite me, and bite me, and bite me, in various places, draining me more than I had been drained before. And just as I was about to pass out, he would enter me, no lubrication, no preparation, and I would bleed from there too. He'd fuck me; my legs flung over his shoulders, his cock deep inside me, my lungs burning for air, my throat raw from screaming from the pain. He would then put his hands around my neck and strangle me, and at that point, I think I will die. Looking into his eyes, I would see nothing but seething anger and I utter one last choked plea. This seems to snap him out of trying to strangle me, but he will shout at me again and hit me so hard that I am rendered unconscious.
When this happens, I wake up with a shout and sit bolt upright, as if it was a terrible nightmare, only, I find myself fully healed, but aching all over. I don't know how they heal me, but it makes me want to kill myself, just knowing that they can take me to the edge of death and pull me back, and that my Master is only keeping me alive so he can drink and fuck whenever he feels like it.
This is my hell, and I have no idea what awaits my future. Am I to be a slave the rest of my life, or will I be killed by my Master's hands? For now, all I can do is remain hopeless.
END