Warning

*this story is full of spoilers*

sexual content

rape and violence

Chapter 2

Blood

The chill of the cold stone floor sent a delicate shiver through Astarion as he kneeled. He wanted to shift as the discomfort in his knees swelled, but he couldnt, he had been ordered to remain still.

Watching in silent obedience, Astarions eyes followed Cazador as he moved from the desk across the room to the bookshelf with purpose. Astarion had become hyper aware of every breath, every movement, every single fucking thing Cazador did as if his life depended on it, because well... it did.

He kneeled in Cazadors chambers. A place he knew all too well. His hands clasped politely infront on him, his back straight and his head low, almost like he was in prayer, the spawn made sure to keep a very structured posture. Cazador had particular tastes, he liked his spawn to act and move in respectable ways. Which was real precious coming from such a monster who made his spawn do such horrendous and disgusting things. Things Astarion had never seen, never experienced and wish he had never lived to learn about.

Cazador walked over, gently placing his cold finger under Astarions chin and lifting his face to look up at his dead dark red eyes. Cazador smiled, his putrid wide smile that made Astarion want to vomit from repulsion. Despite every single cell in his body crying out to just wither away and die, Astarion looked back at Cazador. He knew his master had some wierd obession with him, that he loved seeing the hatred behind Astarions eyes, hatred he could do nothing about. The spawn lived to please his master and Cazador relished in the fact that Astarian hated every moment of it.

A cold thumb brushed against the spawns bottom lip, making his gut twist with disgust. Cazadors gaze lingered uncomfortably long on Astarions face... the elf boys skin was so creamy, a beautiful pale contrast to his dark lashes that accented bright ruby eyes. Such soft features, so feminine and elegant, framed with silver curls. Cazador was almost jealous, but this was why he had chosen this boy in the first place.

Cazador recalled seeing Astarion as a young magistrate in the streets of Baldurs Gate. His wide shoulders tapered down to a thin hips and long legs. He saw the boys face, no older than 40, he was basically still a child in elf years. Bright blue eyes and full pink lips. Cazador knew he wanted him, needed him, and he would have him.

He was a patient man and the opportunity soon presented itself to make Astarion his. He just had to make a deal with some Gur thugs and be at the right place at the right time.

He remebered seeing the magistrate on the ground, beaten and bleeding, within inches away from death. Oh how lovely it was to pull the vulnerable, handome young man into his arms and sink his teeth into his virgin flesh. Drinking the sweet life out of the elf was one of Cazadors most prized accomplishments. There were many things he would take from Astarion and Cazador wasnt gentle about any of them.

Cazador felt pride in himself as he looked upon his little trophy of a spawn. He did miss the blue eyes the boy once had, but the red suited him just as well. Death looked good on this elf.

Astarian quickly buried any anxiety as he watched his masters gaze shift across his face, down his neck to his body in a twisted appreciation. Astarion had seen many sides of his master, none of which he liked, but this, this look usually led to circumstances that made Astarion want to remove his skin and crawl out of his body.

Astarion held back a shudder of deja vu. A memory he tried to kill clawed its way to the surface. The current moment was too dangerously close to the memory he had tried to suppress.

It was years ago, when he first became a spawn. Cazador had been waiting for him in the graveyard to escort him to the castle.

Astarion had lost track of all sense of time. There was only ever darkness and night. For what could have been days or weeks, his body seethed in pain and misery as the full transformation took him. Completely out of control of his own mind and body, he writhed and wept, naked on a cold stone floor.

Weak, tired and with a burning hunger inside him, he was forced to kneel before his new master. Much like he was now and like he would be forced to do millions of times over. Astarion had very little understanding of what was happening to him then, but it would be something that would seer itself deep into his mind for the rest of his eternity.

Cazadors voice had echoed, dancing on the stone walls.

"First, thou shall not drink the blood of thinking creatures. Second, thou shall obey me in all things"

He spoke in a smooth, slithery way but somehow still commanding.

"Third, thou shall not leave my side, unless directed. Fourth, thou shall know that thou art mine." The last command was drawn out in a poisonous fashion.

He had placed his hand on Astarions head, curling his fingers in his hair, pullling his head back to face him.

Cazador looked possessively at Astarions face. The boy weak, starved, tried to look back at him with wavering eyes.

"Do you accept?" it was an illusion of choice. Cazador paused for a brief moment. "Say 'Yes'" he commanded Astarion.

Something inside the spawn pulled. A tether being tugged on. He tried, pathetically, to resist it but he simply could not. Against his will, he replied "Yes."

That night Cazador would lay his claim on Astarion in every way possible. His body, his mind, his soul, and like in all things Cazador did, it was brutal and unforgiving.

Astarion hadn't been very old when Cazador turned him. His life experiences had been pretty simple and innocent for the most part. In all honesty, as an elf, there was so much life ahead of him. He really had no thought to indulge in relationships let alone sexual affairs.

How his life would change.

Astarions first experience would not be with a gentle lover like he had thought it would be. Instead, his first experience would be with Cazador, a monster who pinned him down and ravaged him as he shook and wept beneath him.

When it was over, and Cazador had satisfied himself with Astarions body, he would leave the spawn a rancid rat, like some disgusting reward. Starved and broken, Astarion would always accept it. He hated himself for that.

For months this continued on.

Astarion, starving and locked away in dark isolation until Cazador called him to his chambers. Every time he would go, and every time he hated himself more for it.

Cazador found new ways to sexually humiliate Astarion. He demanded him to act like a lustful whore, as if he was willing participant. The spawn was forced to beg his master to do unspeakable things to him. If ever he hesitated, he would be beaten beyond recognition. The mental anguish, the emotional torment and the physical pain of it...eventally, Astarion found himelf growing numb to it all.

He learned to shut up, obey and play his part well. It all made Astarion cringe in his own worthless, filthy flesh.

But this time, it would be different.

Astarion continued to look up at Cazadors angled face, the dark hair always slicked back. Cazador took pride in his looks and the way he presented himself. Anyone who didnt know better might think him a handsome man, but his spawn knew what a monster he truely was.

Cazadors thumb pulled Astarions bottom lip down, opening his mouth slightly. Astarion showed no reservation as Cazador pressed him thumb onto the spawns warm, wet tongue.

Astarion kneeled motionless, as fingers explored his mouth. He simply waited, patiently for instructions, dieing inside himself, like he always did.

"Remove your clothing and sit on the floor by my chair" Cazador demanded, pulling away from Astarion and removing his cloak.

Astarion stood up and with empty like actions he unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his wide shoulders. Unbuckling his pants, he slipped them down and stepped out. Gently, he put the clothes in a pile by his feet.

Clothing was really all he had. The only thing he truely owned. Cazador allowed his spawns to have a few nice, elegant pieces of attire. He wasnt sure why, but he guessed it was because Cazador liked pleasant looking things, and he didnt want to see his spawns always looking dirty and unkept. Cazador had a twisted view on being 'respectable.' Either way, Astarion was sure to take very good care of what little he did have.

Cazador had walked over and sat in his luxurious chair that rested beside the fireplace. He watched Astarion intently as the spawn walked over the the chair and sat at Cazadors feet, like he was instructed.

"Seduce me" Cazador smirked, leaning forward so Astarian could hear him whisper "Convince me to fuck someone as worthless and pathetic as you." He leaned back in his chair, venom in his eyes.

If the sweet gods could give one wish, Astarian wished he would die. He cursed himself for ever accepting the offer of eternal life. He wished he had just died, alone, there in the dark, cold alley.

But he didnt. He was alive, well, more than he should've been anyway. And what he was about to do would eat at him, like a disease. He took whatever was left of his soul, his dignity and he locked it away, someplace far back in his mind where no one, not even Cazador, could find him.

Astarian shifted himself between Cazadors legs, softly placing his palms on his masters knees. He kept himself low, looking up, making eye contact and gently slid his hands up Cazadors legs.

"Like this, darling?" Astarians' words slipped through his lips like silk. He held a composed smirk, looking mischevious and playful.

Cazador secrelty loved this version of Astarian, he was such an artist. It was a character he played, but he played it so well. Sometimes Cazador would forget that Astarian hated him with every fiber of his being. But for a moment, Cazador could lose himself in the act, pretend that this beautiful boy wanted him, lusted for him, desired to be thouroughly owned by him. Cazador soaked it all in.

Astarian slid one hand up to Cazadors chest, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt. The other rested on his masters thigh.

The spawn pretended to be overwhelmed with desire, his voice nearly purring as he spoke, "Oh how you torment me," he paused for dramatic effect, "with your perfect body" He felt the quiver in his master at the last words.

He let his gaze drop to the tightness swelling between Cazadors legs. Clear sign of approval. Perhaps this would buy him a few days free of lashings. Astarian moved his hand closer to the tightness in Cazadors trousers. Cazadors breath hitched.

He locked eyes "Being able to touch you, pleasure you, the desire plagues me day and night," He was too good at this game, Cazador was unraveling at the touch of this spawn.

It was an odd realization for Astarian. One that maybe gave him slight comfort in a dark time. He had done this countless times before, but he had never seen it this way... his own beauty, his sexuality, gave him a sense of control. Here, in this moment, his charms and looks were giving him some kind of advantage over his master, somehow, it felt like in a strange way the roles were reversed. Although, he knew that was far from the truth, there was something there, prickling in his mind. Perhaps it could be used as a tool, something to his benefit. He should embrace it, it was the only thing he had.

He kneeled before Cazador, sitting up straight, giving his master full view of his lean, muscular body. He noted the lust drowning in the vampires eyes. Astarian leaned his head back, exposing his long, creamy neck, running a hand through his silver hair, almost as if he was in sexual frusteration. He forced a seductive moan, and looked back in his masters eyes with new vigor. He let his hand slowly slide down his neck, carefully analyzing Cazadors face as he did. His masters eyes followed the the spawns hand as it slide down his firm pale chest and down past his abs. Astarian, for the first time in forever, felt... powerful...

"Oh, darling" he breathed, hotly "how I long to feel you inside me."

He watched with a secret sense of sick satisfaction, as his master unraveled like ribbons before his eyes. Astarian realizing he could use Cazadors' obsession against him.

The pale elf seductively straddled his masters lap, pressing his naked body against Cazadors fully clothed one. Astarian caressed his masters face, delicatley playing with his chin, his bottom lip. He moved his face dangerously close, but dared not kiss him, should it cause him to throw up in his own mouth.

Cazador chuckled in near disbelief, "Very good, my boy" he smiled, fangs glistening in the firelight, "So very good" he slithered. Hands viciously grasped Astarians waist, nails digging in. A wave of panic threatened the elf, as a sense of being violently taken against his will flashed before him. But he choked it down. He didn't want to lose control of the situation now.

Astarian, steadied his shaking hands as he slowly unbuckled Cazadors belt, "Is this what you want?" he distracted the vampire with his smooth, soft voice "to feel desired, lusted for... by me?" Cazadors dark eyes met Astarians bright ones. The desperate grip on his waist relaxed and he knew he was back in control.

Astarian took his masters hard length in his hand, pressing the tip to his puckered entrance. A lusty groan rumbled in Cazadors chest.

This wasnt anything they hadnt done a million times before. But this time it wasnt going to be with Astarian shaking and crying, it wasnt going to be with Cazador dominating and demeaning him like he was some disgusting animal. This time, Astarian would decide how it was done. This time, Astarian would take control.

The spawn lowered himself slowly onto his masters length. It stretched and filled him, but it was a familiar feeling.

Cazadors eyes rolled back and his eyes fluttered shut. "Oh, my boy. When did you become so bold?" His hands moved over every inch of Astarians fit body, feeling his muscles flex and he moved up and down, riding him into an oblivion.

"Master" he breathed into Cazadors ear. "lose yourself in me."

The spawn did something they had never done, despite all their sexual experiences together. Astarian, gently placed a kiss on Cazadors neck. The contrast of their brutal relationship, and the sudden, unexpected tenderness Astarian showed shoved Cazador off the edge. His body shuddered in ecstasy beneath the elf.

At this moment, Astarian, the otherwise worthless spawn, felt a sense of authority. His master was worshipping him. Losing all control to him. The sudden shift of power awoke something inside of Astarian. If nothing else, he would always have this.