Cesare had never denied his Master's commands.
Before today, that was.
They had been at the fair and it had been a fairly uneventful day - nobody had thrown insults at his Master or requested Cesare to foretell their death, and the somnambulist had allowed himself a brief (and naive) moment, as the fair began to close and the bustling crowds began to make their way to their exit, to hope that he would be allowed to rest through the night without bloodying his pale hands with the lifeblood of innocent.
That was when the girl had come along. It had been a young mother and a little girl, no more than ten years old, the girl wearing a beautiful pastel purple dress with pink bows and white frill. The little girl had been skipping along, excitedly chattering to her mother who she was pulling along with one hand and sipping from a cup she held in the other - when she had tripped. She had tripped over the uneven ground, falling forward and spilling her drink - a dark berry juice, it appeared - all over his Master's front, the juice instantly soaking his clothes as his eyes narrowed in anger.
Cesare had felt his heart sink low in his chest.
The mother had apologized profusely as she hauled the girl up to her feet and she had passed his Master a handkerchief to wipe off the juice, but Cesare only needed one look into his Master's eyes to know, to know what his Master would command him to do to that poor innocent girl.
He had known that the little girl would die that night.
Cesare had watched the girl pull her mother away, easily continuing her carefree skipping despite her empty cup and scraped knees. He had watched her back get further and further away until his Master commanded his attention.
"Come, Cesare," his Master had commanded, already walking away as Cesare obeyed.
Later, when darkness had fallen and Cesare and his Master had returned back to the hut, his Master had spoken those five dreaded words that Cesare knew so well.
"I command you to kill..." no, please, "the girl."
Cesare couldn't.
She was just a girl.
"No," Cesare stated simply, firmly.
He had never said no before.
"What did you say?" his Master stared at him for a brief moment, his eyes wide - Cesare had never disobeyed, his Master had never lost control over the somnambulist.
"I said..." Cesare felt small all of a sudden, as if he had made a mistake, "I said, no."
His Master's eyes narrowed and the shorter man turned to cross the hut in a single step and opened the cabinet, reaching for something and then drawing a long stick with two prongs at it's end from the shadows.
A cattle prong.
His Master returned to Cesare, slowly beginning to circle him as he loosely held the cattle prod in his hands.
"You will kill that girl," his Master said slowly, tapping the inactive cattle prod against his hand threateningly as he walked in front of Cesare.
"...no." Cesare repeated, his heart pounding in his lean chest.
"No...? We shall see," his Master grinned darkly, an expression that made Cesare feel ill, and powered the cattle prod on. Electricity sparked between the prongs, the electric energy excited and ready to make Cesare feel pain, "we shall see."
A cruel smile etched itself across his Master's lips, torture always being one of his enjoyments - usually at the expense of Cesare.
"One last chance," his Master held the cattle prod out towards Cesare, "Cesare, I command you to kill that girl."
"No," Cesare held his head high even as goosebumps rippled across his pale skin.
His Master took a step forward and, without any more delay, thrust the cattle prod into Cesare's arm, Cesare grunting and gritting his teeth as the electricity shocked him painfully. His Master pulled the cattle prod back, before moving forward to push it against Cesare's stomach, walking around to trail it across his navel, over his hips, and around to the small of his back before pulling it away, leaving a painful trail of burning electricity behind. Cesare groaned and curled his fingers into fists, his untrimmed fingernails cutting crescent-moon shaped cuts into his palms.
As his Master stood behind Cesare, out of sight, he spoke again.
"You will kill that girl," he commanded.
"No," Cesare refused.
"Hmm," his Master paused for a tantalizing few moments, leaving Cesare shivering in anticipation and fear, before thrusting the cattle prod forward to poke the base of Cesare's spine, forcing the tall and lanky man to arch backwards as a shriek escapes his lips, an aching heat burning beneath his skin and between his bones. As his Master pulled the cattle prod away, Cesare could tell it left a sizeable burn mark behind.
Cesare couldn't do this forever.
His Master circled back to Cesare's front, a disappointed expression on his face as the cattle prod cracked and snapped.
Cesare said nothing, staring blankly ahead.
His Master pulled his arm back and swung it around to connect with Cesare's side, both hitting him with bruising force and a sharp shock. A scream escaped from Cesare's dark lips, his throat hoarse and painful.
On and on his Master went, for minutes or hours Cesare could not say for sure, thrusting the cattle prod forward to shock Cesare in the most sensitive places, burning and searing his skin snd keaving a foul scent in the air.
Cesare tried to think of the little girl, of her joy and her innocence, he tried to hold strong, but...
He couldn't last.
Cesare was breathing hard, his chest heaving as tears fell down onto his burnt chest, the wounds aching and throbbing. Sweat dripped from every pore, falling from his chin and mixing with his tears as his Master paced in front of him.
He couldn't go on...
"You will kill that girl," his Master commanded, the words having been repeated so much that they almost had lost all meaning to Cesare.
"..." Cesare stared at the floor, drowning in his failure, "...yes."
"Good," his Master nodded approvingly.
In the end, Cesare always submitted to his Master's command.