Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh!
A/N: Thank you SO much to everyone who's reviewed this fic so far! I can't tell you how very much I appreciate it and it really inspired me to get this chapter out much sooner than I expected. I hope you all enjoy it!
WARNINGS: I can't believe I forgot to put the warnings in the first chapter, but then again that chapter was relatively tame. Anyway, in case you haven't guessed from reading Chapter 1, this will be a yaoi fic with plenty of BDSM elements running around. Also, there will be mention of rape (nothing graphic. . . .yet). My plots tend to evolve, often going in completely different directions than I originally planned, so I'll leave the warnings general right now, but I will certainly put specific warnings in chapters that need them.
Malik hated this dream, he always sensed it coming, stealthily creeping into his consciousness on nightmare claws that gripped his sleeping mind with tenacious glee. Unfortunately, no matter how desperately he tried he could never seem to wake up until it played out to the horrid, bitter end.
"Father don't—please!" The high, still child-like voice of a twelve-year-old Malik begged, pulling with all his meager strength at his father's bruising grip on his slender wrists. The man didn't even spare the boy a passing glance, continuing to drag his struggling offspring through the glittering whiteness of fresh snow illuminated by moonlight. It was bitterly cold tonight, too cold to snow again, the temperatures having plunged well below zero after today's earlier snowfall. Much too cold for his worn coat and patched sneakers to keep him warm, not that his father cared of course. Mr. Ishtar hadn't cared for his son from day one, not after his beloved wife died from giving birth to him. He'd only kept the boy this long because it was illegal to give your child as an Offering until twelve, which Malik had turned last month. Fear closed the boy's throat--they were only a few yards from their destination--a plain black van parked ominously at the end of their walkway. "Father, I'll be g-good, I'll d-do anything you want just p-please don't give me to THEM." He pleaded, voice breathy with panic. The older Ishtar whirled and slapped the boy across the face with the resounding smack of flesh hitting flesh. Hot pain exploded over Malik's face, the impact of his father's hand sending him crashing to the icy ground. Dazed from the blow, Malik didn't fight when the older blonde hauled him by his coat-collar the rest of the way, ending their journey by tossing the boy at the feet of another man. "Here, take this useless filth off my hands." Mr. Ishtar spat, words colder than the night air and as sharply painful as a dagger plunged into Malik's heart. The blond knew his father didn't love him, he'd come to terms with that years ago, but he never imagined his father hated him THIS much. Malik struggled to his knees, his ragged jeans instantly becoming soaked and dirty in the roundside muck. "Gladly, sure you don't want to auction him though? Pretty Sweetbloods like him fetch high prices." Malik looked up to see a stoney-faced, middle-aged man dressed in a thick black jacket, heavy jean coveralls, and chunky boots. Malik's eyes grew wide, a beam of silvery moonlight had picked out a patch on the stranger's coveralls identifying him as a government Slave Transporter. The elder Ishtar waved him off impatiently. "No, I don't want him spoiled rotten in a noble's household, let him suffer under our local vampire Lord." Stunned speechless, Malik sat frozen in a shock colder than the iciest winter night. Everyone knew the vampire Lord whose territory was closest to their town was crazier than normal for a bloodsucker. Local gossip said his tastes ran to the sadistic when devising punishments for his servants at best, lethal if they displeased the Lord too much. Broad shoulders twitched in a brief shrug. "Suit yourself." The low coarse voice rumbled as the strange man handed Malik's father a clipboard. "Sign at the bottom and initial the top of the second page." He ordered, accepting the signed paperwork back and separating out a few sheets for Mr. Ishtar. "The yellow copies are yours, make sure to keep those for proof or the town won't get credit for the Offering."
"Of course." The elder Ishtar grinned sadistically at the shivering boy staring up at him with beseeching violet eyes. "Have fun being a vampire's whore, boy." Beefy hands much larger than his father's jerked him erect before he was able to fully get his berings. Malik gasped as metal burning from exposure to the freezing night were clamped painfully tight around his abused wrists. Any other vocalizations were rendered impossible by a foul-tasting rubber ball gag shoved unceremoniously into his mouth and buckled in place by heavy leather straps.
Five minutes later found Malik lying in a metal cage welded to the van's interior, hot tears of mingled hurt and terror slipping down his cheeks. Curling into a ball to hold in as much body heat as possible, Malik stared at the rough iron bars around him. I better get used to cages, I'll be spending a lot of time in them from now on. Father how could you do this to me! He wailed mentally. Malik was now an Offering, a human freely given up by their community (whether the human agreed or not) to help meet their yearly Slave Tithe quota. In a way the system resembled paying taxes, but instead of paying in money you paid in living beings and you paid it to the local vampire Lord rather than a government. Criminals, the homeless, the mentally challenged, and orphans twelve or older were given first in Slave Tithe, but inevitably they needed ordinary, law abiding citizens to fully meet Tithe. Some vampire Lords waived the difference if they were only short a few people--not theirs, if anything he demanded more than normal. Slaves in the Lord's household rarely lived long, the typical life expectancy five years at most and that was for a competant, useful Slave. Malik, not knowing the AB negative law, felt sure he'd last only a year at best. Hurting both physically and mentally, the blond continued to sob bitter tears empty of consolation.
Malik whimpered in his sleep, a frown between his eyes the only indication of his fierce struggle to return to the waking world. As much as he loathed seeing his father's betrayal again, he hated the next part of the dream nearly as much.
The young teen didn't know how long the bumping, rattling drive in the unheated van lasted, but by the time it screeched to a shuddering halt Malik's body was cold-stiffened , his muscles screaming from the rough ride. His struck cheek throbbed harshly even with the winter air to cool it, his gag-stretched jaw ached abomidably, and daggers of pain lanced up his bound arms to add to his miseries. The Handler yanked the doors open, flooding the completely dark interior with moonlight and making the boy squint at the brightness. Quickly unlocking the cage the Handler pulled Malik upright, ignoring the muffled cry of pain as cramped muscles were forced to move.
Intense surprise filtered through the dread curling inside Malik when he stumbled into a field of unbroken snow ringed by various confers. What the--? He expected a grand manor house with tasteful landscaping, not untouched wilderness. "Wondering why you're here boy?" At Malik's nod he continued, buckling a heavy flourescent orange collar around the young one's slender neck while he talked. "This is the Lord's private hunting preserve. He fancies chasing his meal down tonight rather than it bringing itself to him. This—" He flicked the chunky collar with a thick finger. "will make certain you stay in the game until you're caught or morning comes—whichever happens first. It'll deliver a crippling electric shock if you get too close to the poles marking the preserve's border, the closer you get the higher the voltage." He pointed to a line of simple metal poles 10 yards distant. Malik yelped as a hard hand shoved him at the poles then screamed behind the gag, eletricity jolting through his body. The Handler jerked him back, smirking in response to Malik's glare. "Thought I'd give a taste so you wouldn't do anything stupid. Now, you DO have a fighting chance if you're smart. The Lord wants this to be challenging for him, or he'd not have any fun at it. The eastern border doesn't have the poles, it has simple wooden posts so you can get back to human lands there. Or, if you stay free until dawn the light will trigger a sensor in the collar to make it unlock." The man tossed the handcuff's key in the snow at Malik's feet, causing the boy to scramble for it, digging frantically in the powdery snow with bare hands. Concentrating on the task at hand Malik barely heard the van door slam or it's engine chugging to life. Finding a tiny silver key in deep snow at night with bound hands numb from cold was near impossible. Malik managed it though, tossing both cuffs and gag in one of the van's tire ruts once he'd freed himself. Orienting himself by the full moon, he started running, mind blank of anything but moving as fast as possible.
The older Malik twisted in his bedding, shivering under the blankets from a cold wind only in his mind. Bare feet twitching as if in time to a running beat. The dream would
end now, his subconscious not cruel enough to force him relive his capture. Malik realized now he never had a chance; the vampire had been on his trail from the beginning, hanging back to give his prey a sense of hope. Oh how Master loved to shatter hope, he gloried in seeing bleak despair fill his slaves' eyes. Malik's sleeping form jerked as he mentally shied from those memories and willed himself awake.
Malik's eyes popped open, heart beating against his breastbone like a trapped fly against a closed window. He breathed deeply, forcing himself to shake off the last vistages of the dream and calm down. Slowly, he pushed off the soft blanket covering him and sat up, shaking his head as dizziness surged through him. Wha? His confusion was understandable, vampire venom never had side effects and it cleared out of a human's system relatively quickly. All speculation vanished once the teen got a good look at his surroundings, mouth sagging open in awe. "Oh shit. . . ." Malik breathed. Sunlight from a wall of giant windows poured into a huge, plushly appointed bedroom decorated in a vaguely Egyptian style. The predominate color scheme was gold, black, and twighlight colors, frescoes of Egyptian hieroglyphs covered the walls, and the dominate feature of the room was the giant bed Malik sat next to. Everywhere he looked were priceless artifacts and semi-precious jems in real gold. Ra, could this be the Palace? Am I in Domino City, the vampire capitol? Wondered Malik. For all he knew Elegante Training Center was in Domino City. It's not like the vampires ever told him where Bakura dumped him, and his contact with other slaves had been quite minimal.
That has to be custom built. The boy decided, staring at the expanse of black silk-covered bedding that could hold a half-dozen people comfortably. So does this.Malik thought with distaste as he looked at his own bed, a strange ovular affair covered in deep amethyst satin that looked exactly like a. . . .Pet bed. Apparently no one told my new master the difference between actual pets and human slaves. Malik hooked a thumb under his slave collar and pulled it into view, rolling his eyes at seeing a black, gold studded collar that'd have looked at home on any cat's neck. It even had a marble-sized gold bell that chimmed softly with his every movement. At least the Royal Seal of an upside-down pyramid with a stylized eye in the center stamped on the identification tag confirmed he really was in the Palace. "Why me? Why the Hell do I always get the psychos? What's worse is he's a high-ranking psycho." He moaned, dropping his face into his hands. The action made something tug oddly in his hair. A frown puckering his bronze forehead, Malik patted the offending area, eyes widening at finding two furry, triangular-shaped objects that appeared somehow knotted in his hair. Knotted good too—a couple fierce tugs only snapped a couple platinum blonde hairs. Spotting a handmirror on a nearby nightstand, Malik grabbed it and stared at his image. Ears? The things in his hair were two fairly lifelike kitty-ears dyed the exact bronze of his skin and tipped in deep umber. He shifted, frown deepening, it felt like he was sitting on something and it couldn't be the chain hooked to his collar—he was looking right at that. Malik reached back and sighed at the fluffy kitty tail he grabbed, "Of course." He muttered; it matched the ears and was sewed quite securely to the seat of the black leather shorts he wore. The only clothing he wore in fact.
Grrreeeaaat, now I can add humiliation to my wide plethora of emotional scars. How lovely. Swiping his tongue over dry lips, he felt something odd in his mouth "Fangs?" The boy half-shrieked to his shocked-looking reflection, poking a shaking
forefinger at the new additions and finding them permanent. At least they weren't vampire fangs, too short and wide for that. While they did come to a point it wasn't needle-like or hollow like a vamp's fangs either—not to mention they were on the top AND on the bottom. "Kitty fangs." Malik told himself, noticing a bruise on his inner forearm—probably where he'd been injected with something. "They drugged me so they could weave ears into my hair and alter my teeth." He whispered.
A wall of fear slowly built in stength within him as he considered the implacations of those actions. If my new Master is willing to change my teeth like that, what else will he change? Curling into a fetal position he squeezed his eyes shut, trembling violently at what might be. He might have worked himself into a full blown panic-attack if the sedative in his bloodstream hadn't reasserted itself somewhat. The drug forcibly calmed him, slowing his racing heart, and clearing the fear clouding his thoughts.
Okay, okay, gotta think this through--so far the vamp has just messed with my teeth, but not too much. I mean, he just lengthened my canines a little bit, I can hardly feel the difference and it won't make eating or talking difficult. The ears are embarassing but removable. I guess I'm lucky the tail is on my pants and not attached to a plug in my ass. My new owner is obviously a nut, but I can't assume he's a sadist until I see him. At least I didn't wake up in painful bondage, and I don't see any sex toys or restraints lying around—not that he couldn't just have them all in a 'playroom' somewhere. Malik reasoned, silently wishing to Ra he wouldn't be fucked often. Master raped him to the point Malik couldn't stand anything even marginally sexual. Too much to hope he wouldn't be fucked at all, every vampire he'd ever met seemed to have a libido the size of an ocean.
Lightly fingering a kitty ear, Malik thought: I wonder if this 'pet' thing is something most Palace vamps do or if it's just mine? If that bastard Ryou were here I wonder if they'd make him a kitty too? Naw, he'd be way better as a bunny. An image of Ryou with a fluffy powder-puff tail and fuzzy bunny ears flopping into his face coaxed a weak chuckle out of the boy. "Something funny kitten?" A deep, sand-coarse voice purred, sounding amused. Malik surged into a sitting position, head snapping around towards the source of the voice—no doubt that of his new master. The person who now held sway over his life or death, his comfort or agony. . . .
Ummmm, I have no idea where the kitty-Malik thing came from. It just popped into my strange little mind while I was writing this. By the way, does anyone know Malik's father's name? Did he ever have one in the series to begin with? Also, does anyone know Ryou's Dad's full name and his mom's name? I don't think that'll come up in the fic but I'm curious.