His Master, Venus in Furs
I was somewhat curious when the young lord informed me to ready the carriage one dreary afternoon. A respite from the stack of Funtom paperwork, he insisted.
I had found the boy sitting in his armchair and staring at the crackling hearth whose reflection flickered in red flames over his agitated face. Like a spoiling kitten, he had wrapped himself in a huge fur that had been procured months ago from the exhibition at the Crystal Palace, to which the boy had taken an immediate liking to. I eyed the sea of documents swarming him, the papers poorly concealing a clandestine book he had recently purchased—Venus in Furs.
"I can't stand it here," Ciel said in a low stony voice, throwing the fur atop the mess. "I need a break, Sebastian. Prepare the carriage."
"A timely suggestion, sir. I believe fresh air would do you some good. Perhaps a leisurely ride to a scenic pleasure garden like Vauxhall or Cuper's."
Ciel shook his head at once.
"Oh? Does the young master have some place else in mind?"
"Actually..." he said, a curious lilt tinging his voice. "I was thinking of the thoroughfare to Belgravia."
I raised a brow. The place was hardly known for its nature, but more so its crystal storehouses displaying some of the finest products in the world.
"If that is what the young master wishes, I shall be prepare the carriage for him."
A shadow of a smile touched his lips. "Good. See to it, Sebastian."
My eyes narrowed a fraction.
Whatever game are you playing now, young master?
After settling ourselves in the carriage, we ventured through the London streets before coming upon our destination. As we trundled though various storefronts, I could sense an odd restlessness brimming inside the boy though his outward demeanor betrayed nothing. Ciel's eyes carefully passed the display windows from one shop to another when—
"Stop the carriage, Sebastian."
I signaled to our cabby, and our ride halted. "My lord, is something the matter?"
"I hardly came here for a joy ride, Sebastian," he suddenly declared. His lone eye glared at me. "My muscles are terribly cramped, and I wish to take a walk outside."
"Forgive me," I said. "I was under the impression the young master only wanted some fresh air, seeing he dislikes to engage in even the most menial physical activity, like walking, on most good days."
The boy gave an inelegant snort as I drew open the carriage door and offered him my gloved hand. He stepped out and proceeded walking in front of me, a brisk pace filled with some purpose, until he stood in front of a storefront named Berkley Shop.
"Wait here, Sebastian. I wish to take a look inside."
"Very well, sir."
Of course, there was no need to have me stay outside instead of accompanying him. Did the foolish boy truly think that would afford him some privacy? The devilish creature I was, I perked my ears after his small figure disappeared into the shop.
Thumps of steps to a room all the way in the back... A hum of appreciation...
"Are these satisfactory, my lord?" asked the merchant.
"No, they are much too small," replied the boy. "I need something large—"
"For a bull-dog, I suppose?"
"Yes," he said, "of the kind that are used for the most intractable ones."
"Perhaps one of these then? The quality is superior, and you would be hard pressed to find something better in all of London."
"Is that so...?"
The earl inspected a selection that the shopkeeper procured and after long deliberation, finally selected the item. At the sight of the object, I felt a strange creeping sensation. Oh my.
The young master stepped outside after making the purchase and beckoned me. "I'm done here, Sebastian."
"Did the young master find what he truly came here for?"
Picking up the silkiness in my voice, Ciel threw me a black look. "Whatever I see fit to purchase is none of your concern."
"Yes, my lord," I said, feigning servility while I concealed a serpentine smile. So the game had been set in motion...
After we returned to the manor, Ciel kept to himself in his study, finishing his tedious paperwork—rather diligently—I must say. Perhaps the fresh air had done the boy some good. He seemed determined to finish it by tonight, but the way he worked... it was as though he had something more pressing to attend to. The foot of papers had waned to a few centimetres in height, and when it had all but disappeared, the moon had come out. He wished to retire then, and requested me to bring a late dinner to his quarters.
I knocked his door, tray in hand. "Sir, your dinner."
"Come in, Sebastian..."
I entered and my eyes widened. In my surprise, I had nearly dropped the blasted tray. In centre of the four poster, lay my master, his opulent limbs stretched out in the magnificent furs, the blackness shrouding his body like darkness. Over it he wore a scarlet fur-lined kazabaika, richly bordered with ermine. The boy slid out of the satin sheets and stood, arms folded across his chest, and a roguish smile on his parting lips. He took a few steps towards me, then one back. In that brief retreat, he measured me, his gaze travelling across me from top to bottom.
"Put the tray on the nightstand."
I did as much and turned to him, thrumming with intrigue.
"Get on your knees, Sebastian."
"Pardon?"
"I believe I just spoke the Queen's English."
My, my...how interesting indeed.
"My lord." I knelt down, and Ciel lifted his foot and brought it a hair's breadth from my mouth. Chuckling, I obliged his unspoken order. I cupped the ball of his heel and kissed the arch. "How beautiful you are, young master."
"What impudence." The boy shoved me away with his foot, leaving my hand bereft. His bottom lip twitched derisively, and he looked at me mockingly through half-closed lids.
"Take it off," he said. "All of it."
I did as he ordered, watching his eyes rake hungrily over my form as I rid myself from the confines of propriety. My gloves were left for the last, and I peeled them off with my mouth in a slow, tantalizing motion. I presume humans would find being exposed in such a manner degrading and humiliating, but ever fibre in me reveled in such an act.
"Hand me that, Sebastian."
I looked about the room, my eyes scanning the walls until—yes, that object. I wetted my lips...
"No," he said suddenly when I made a means to move and retrieve it. "I'll get it. Stay as you are - kneeling." Ciel took the carefully crafted whip from the mantle-piece, its handle gilded in gold, and watching me with a devilish smile, he let the instrument hiss through the air.
"How delicious, young master," I exclaimed, feeling the mark on my bare, contracted hand.
"Silence, dog!" The boy's face darkened, looking savage, and he struck me with the whip another. "Did that hurt you?"
"No," I replied truthfully, "and even if you had, pains that come through you are a pleasure." A strange intoxication seized me as Ciel looked down upon me with cold, piercing eyes. I hoped he could see the vicious gleam in my own. "Whip me, my lord. Whip me without mercy."
Ciel swung the whip, and hit me twice. "Are you satisfied now?"
"No."
"Seriously, no?"
I shook my head. "Because you know very well you are not being serious. I daresay, you haven't the heart to truly hurt me."
That seemed to have done it, my words like poison to him. Ciel gripped the whip until his knuckles turned white.
"Come now, young master," I purred, akin to the serpent tempting Eve. "Succumb to the darkest depths of your depravity. Do with me whatever you will. Whatever your deviance and caprice suggests, my little lord." I flung myself face to the floor before him, concealing my lengthening fangs. "Tread me underfoot if you wish."
"Your theatrics know no bounds, Sebastian." The boy stepped back and looked at me with a somber smile. "Know what it means to be delivered into the hands of Ciel Phantomhive." The whip sliced through the air and landing with force on my contracted mark; at the same moment the little imp gave me a kick." I drew in an audible breath, and Ciel noticed at once. I felt a wild, sensual stimulation from the whip and the cruel laughter of my mischievous Venus. "Weren't you the one who insisted that a slap on the wrist is more effective than ten lectures, professor?"
"I do recall I said something to that affect in our Latin lessons. However, a slap elsewhere can be more effective than a hundred lectures..." I had the gall to fix my gaze on the particular appendage on his small frame.
"Tch. Vile demon." Ciel raised his arms hand and brought it down—hard—the crackling sound filling my ear like a sweet symphony.
"How do you like that, Sebastian?"
"I confess I find it thoroughly stimulating, my lord."
Ciel grunted and flourished the whip again while motioning me to rise. "Get up! No, don't stand," he ordered, "on your knees."
I obeyed, finding myself on my knees once more as he commenced the lash. The blows came one by one, more powerful than before, in rapid succession on my back and arms, my torso, and nether regions. Each one cut into my flesh and burned, but the trifle of pains enraptured me, especially coming from him.
The boy continued his fervid flogging, and throughout it all, our eyes latched onto each other, enthralled in ecstasy. Finally, he stopped, breathing hard. "I am finally beginning to enjoy this," he said. "I admit I do feel a demonic curiosity to see how far your strength goes."
"Do you now? And what do you enjoy about this most, young master?" I whispered through curved lips.
Ciel steeled his face. "I take a cruel joy in seeing you tremble and writhe beneath my whip." Did he not realize that his cruelty allured me? I mused.
"Your barely audible groans," continued Ciel, "make me want to go on whipping you until you beg for mercy, until you lose your senses and know that it is all because of my doing."
"My, my, you paint pleasure, cruelty, and arrogance in glowing colors. What dangerous elements I have awakened in my lord."
"You awakened them, and not to your advantage," Ciel sneered.
"I am inclined to strongly disagree, young master."
Another crack of the whip followed by a strangled noise.
"Don't you see, Sebastian?!" he cried out. "You've turned me into a beast, spurring me on—demoniacally—relentlessly! You have inflamed my blood and corrupted my imagination. Corrupted me to the last fibre."
"I appreciate the compliment, young master, but I cannot take credit for the whole of it. After all, you had the predilection all along, and I merely was the air that fueled the infernal fire."
The boy fell silent, his eyes shining, and I leaned into his ear, my breath warm.
"Place thy foot upon thy slave,
Oh thou, half of hell, half of dreams;
Among the shadows, dark and grave,
Thy extended body softly gleams."
"You read it," he whispered.
"Did you think I would not care to look through the book that has been sitting for weeks on your desk?
Ciel dropped the whip to the floor. He removed his attire, choosing to warm his bare self under my prostrate form and the ermine fur that now cloaked both of us. The kiss of the enamoured little cat ran through my body like a shudder. Against his lips, I reciprocated and whispered to him,"My Venus in furs."
Author's Note: A head-canon I have that Sebastian gets off on pain. Adapted from Venus in Furs by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch (yes, the word 'masochism' is derived from his work)
Excuse the lack of editing and scattered thoughts. This was meant to be a quickie writing sprint done out of a whim of fancy (and from being cooped up home with everything going on). I suppose the silver lining is that there's more time to write and read ^^; If you liked it, do let me know!