Completely His

He had been surprised to see a blade in my hand. I was short and thin. Soft white tresses hung around my shoulders. A deep black trench coat hid many lethal weapons from view. He had been surprised to see a glowing ring on my chest, sharp daggers defying the laws of gravity and pointing right at him.

“What? Never seen magic before?” I sneered.

He tried to scream next, but I silenced him with a crude rune drawn in midair. “You die now.”

The alley where we were was full of refuse. Crates and sagging boxes, barbed wire fences and blood, gasoline and broken bottles littered the cracked pavement.

I knew I looked feral because I smiled as I did it. I slit his throat as he fell. Choked gasps for air were his last sounds. I put my knife through his neck to stop his noises.

“What does my master want…?” I whispered to myself as I searched the man’s pockets. On the corpse’s wrist was a heavy golden bracelet.

The bracelet! My master would be happy with this. I took the heavy jewelry. I pulled up the man’s other sleeve and nearly gasped aloud. Hideous scars encircled his arm.

But I cared very little. I was shocked because I saw the glimmer of a fine golden chain wrapped around his wrist. Luck smiled upon me.

The dead man had much too many pockets. His jacket had inner and outer pockets; his pants had five pockets; his shirt had two. I rifled through each and every one. It was forbidden to leave any sort of identification on the people I killed, and my master wouldn’t reward me if I was wasteful and left anything valuable with the dead.

I found his wallet and stuffed all the money in the black bag I carried. There was a driver’s license in his wallet. I sliced it in half and took a lighter to it, burning and melting it so it was unrecognizable. Tossing it in a nearby pile of garbage, I continued my search.

I now had the corpse’s money, credit card, other cards, and bracelets. All the pockets easily accessible from the front had been emptied.

Grabbing his shoulder and shoving, I managed to turn his limp form over. I felt a drop of liquid stain my cheek, but I paid no attention. Something had jingled in his pocket. In the silence that surrounded me, it sounded horribly loud. I was quite sure my master had heard me making so much noise for a moment and I froze, waiting for him to sweep angrily into the alley and punish me.

It didn’t happen. Slowly, I began to move again, slipping my hand inside the corpse’s pocket with the care of a surgeon.

Keys.

I was about to dispose of them when I remembered something. No…my master might reward me for keys—if they were coupled with the corpse’s address!

I seized the wallet and went through it again. There, on a flimsy plastic card, was his address. I committed the numbers and letters to memory and melted the card.

I took the man’s bracelets and the black bag I had filled. I left his corpse covered in trash and sketched a rune in midair. No one would find him for weeks. A couple more magical runes ensured my footprints would be erased like chalk from a blackboard.

Chemical fumes wafted into the alley to greet me as I approached the street. I crinkled my nose in disgust.

I clenched the black bag in my fist as I walked casually from the alley where I had killed. I saw no one outside. It was a hellish place here, especially at night. My master was waiting for me in another alley, a side street with no name.

I glanced around casually, keeping my head bent down slightly. Walking with your head held high was just an excuse for someone to mug you. You had something to be happy about, so they’d take it. I had something to be happy about, but I kept it from my face and posture.

I turned into a side street. It was dank and gloomy, filled with the gross rubbish of a thousand previous occupants. That might have been blood or oil catching the vapid light. The whole city surrounding me was sunken into immorality. You could call it hell, but that was only a name.

I went into the side street, and then, mindful of my master’s teachings, went out again. Completely bypassing the next two side streets, I strode unconcernedly up the filthy road. The moon hung low and red in the sky. At an intersection, I dashed across the street. One never walked across the street in this place. It might be the last stroll you took. People drove high and people drove drunk. Pedestrians were practically target practice.

I passed a brothel. Farther down the street I saw a man in sunglasses. He was as high-strung as I’d ever seen. He was guarding drugs, no doubt. The man gave me a death glare, which I did not deign to return.

I stopped at a food establishment that looked as safe as possible, and got a bottle of water. I paid with rumpled bills, not too large, and made sure to take the bottle with gloved hands.

I began to walk again, navigating backwards in the vague direction of the side street. I finished my bottle of water and ducked into an alley. I took out my faithful lighter and melted the bottle. No remnants of me would ever be found. I would never exist for anyone but my master.

I passed by an unconscious teenager, lying prone on the sidewalk with blood leaking from his wrists. I was almost to the side street with no name when I slowed down. Checking for people watching, both magically and normally, I scanned the streets. There was no one. I walked into the side street with no name. My master was leaning against the wall, barely visible but for his reflective, malevolent eyes.

I walked up to my master. I stood before him, and he nodded almost imperceptibly as an acknowledgement. I took a deep breath, and spoke.

“I slit his throat.”

“I know,” he replied, reaching a hand out. “Come on then.”

Fingers dipped in black leather gloves slowly made their way around to my neck, pulling me in. He was leaning against the wall, clad in black leather from head to toe. I leaned against him, tugging on his trench coat zipper, knowing what was coming.

My master forced my face upwards and claimed my lips, gentle only for a moment. He bit my lip and drew blood, but he didn’t need to. I would open my mouth for him anyway. His tongue slipped between my lips and found mine. His thumb came up to my face and swiped at a drop of blood. My master broke the kiss.

“I told you not to make a mess.”

“I’m sorry—the rest was clean,” I quickly replied, nervousness invading my words. Worry threaded through me. I pushed a black bag into his hand. “Here.”

I was perfectly still against him, fear the only emotion I could think about, as he rifled through the contents. “So much money—good…good. Credit cards…useless cards….”

I listened with bated breath to what he said. Money…money made him happy. Credit cards made him happy. But some cards he found useless and tossed aside. They made him angry.

“Cell phone…password locked. Damn. Useless.”

My fear of interrupting my master was overridden by my fear of being useless to my master. “I—I can—.”

He looked down at me, his frozen stare touched with curiosity. “Do it, then.” He handed me the cell phone.

I took the proffered phone with a hand clenched to keep it from shaking. I inspected the screen, trying desperately to relax and remember how to do this. Inhaling a deep breath, I pressed a couple buttons. The phone chirped evilly at me. My master’s hand strayed to my ass, as if to remind me the risk I was taking. I bit my already bleeding lip to keep from making any sound—from either pleasure or fear. The pain helped me focus, too.

And then I remembered. I thumbed several buttons in quick succession and waited, mentally crossing my fingers.

The cell phone trilled cheerfully. I carefully released a breath I’d been holding as my master plucked the phone from my fingers.

“Good….” He ran his fingers through my hair. He was pleased; a blissful happiness grew in my chest. He pocketed the phone.

“What else is in here?” I did not answer, for my master often asked questions I was not to reply to. This was one of them, I was sure. My master did not reward me when I annoyed him by answering these questions.

My master was sifting through the contents of the black bag again. I tried to remember what was in there. Money, credit card, some other cards, cell phone—

“You brought me keys?” I knew his tone of voice and mentally flinched. He was angry and waiting—waiting for an explanation from me.

I swallowed.

“I remembered his address, master, so we could—.” The hand that had been stroking my hair suddenly stopped. So did my breathing.

“So we could break in,” my master finished for me. “You are learning quickly.” That was high praise, coming from my master. I glanced up at him. He held my gaze and whispered, “You stand a very good chance of earning your reward.”

His leather-clad hands returned to the black bag.

My master’s expression melted into a slow smile. “Gold. You brought me gold.” I nodded wordlessly. I couldn’t read his voice. Was he angry? Pleased? Exasperated?

My master took the first bracelet, the heavier, thicker one, out of the black bag. He inspected it carefully, turning it in the small amount of light that made its sorry way into the alley. A truly happy smile graced his lips. He opened the bracelet and snapped it around his wrist. He returned his gloved hands to the bag, checking that there was nothing left. In fact, there was one more thing. My master brought the fine gold chain out of the bag and held it up.

He was smiling again, but this time it was predatory.

He gave my shoulder a little push and I turned. Now I was the one against the wall. My master claimed my lips as he slipped the fine chain around my neck. The clasp hooked with a click and he broke away. “You did very well,” he whispered.
I heard the pull of a zipper. My zipper—the one on the front of my trench coat. My master trailed kisses across my jaw and down my neck, nipping and biting. I struggled madly to keep from crying out or moving. My master already knew how badly I wanted my reward. Sadistic pleasure was his prize for keeping my reward from me. If I let on that I enjoyed this more than anything else in this forsaken place, my master wouldn’t—

The buttons on my shirt had all been opened, and my master ran a thumb across one nipple. I bit my lip, already bloody and broken.

“You get your reward.” Relief and anticipation coursed through me all at once. I had pleased my master, now—.
His warm, wet tongue attacked my nipple, and I fisted my hands in my master’s hair. He allowed this and suckled at my other nipple. Now I was allowed to cry out, but not to move. I let out a breath, only to draw it sharply in again as my master bit me lightly.

He trailed hot, teasing kisses down to the waistline of my pants, slowly kneeling. My master’s hands wrapped around thigh and ass, pulling me closer, but toying with me all the same. My pants were becoming increasingly tight, and I moaned slightly. His tongue dipped into my navel as his hands strayed closer to the bulge in my pants.

He stood up again. The lost contact was nearly unbearable, but I didn’t have to deal with it for long as my master pushed up against me, his face to my neck and his hips to mine. I said something incoherent as something distinctly hard rubbed against my crotch.

“Mmm…so eager?”

My master took my hips in his hands and ground himself against me. Another moan of pleasure escaped my lips and it took all I had to stay flush with the wall and not grind furiously back to him.

“Oh gods—don’t…don’t stop—!” My master ground roughly into me and teasingly pulled back. I whimpered, forcing myself not to pull him back to me. “Shhh….” He leaned sideways against me and attacked my neck, suckling at the sensitive spot below my ear.

“Mmmm…ohhh….”

I heard a familiar snap and felt a breath of cooler air—the button on my pants was open. My fists clenched around empty air as my master pulled down the zipper of my pants. I screwed up my face—my master’s hands were so close and yet so far away.
Then, I heard a shout.

“STOP!” A policeman, nightstick raised, stomped into the alley. My master pulled my trench coat closed and looked at the officer with malevolent, unblinking eyes. “Step away from him!” Surprisingly, my master acquiesced, putting his hands in easy view and stepping away from me. Obviously he knew it looked like rape, though it was anything but.

The police officer drew his gun and covered my master. “Are you all right, kid?” I nodded. My master told me never to speak in front of the law. Your voice could be used against you.

“Good. We’ll take care of you. Just stay quiet a minute while I handcuff this guy.”

My master should have killed him by now; his corpse should be lying on the ground, bloody and mutilated. Why didn’t he strike?
I stood against the wall, frozen. My master was casually standing with his hands…not raised, exactly, but in a clear enough gesture of surrender. How could he?

And then his eyes slid to me and I understood exactly why he hadn’t struck.

The handcuffs clicked and jangled as the policeman removed them from his waist pocket. He was a rookie. He would die for it.

I screamed and the ring on my chest burned to life. Seven daggers rose up and pointed straight at the officer. I buried a knife in the side of his neck, yanking it down and snapping his collar bone in two, slicing ribs and tendons and arteries….

The man fell in a graceful arc, his windpipe and jugular vein both severed. He gasped for air for awhile, blood seeping and bubbling from his wound. I stared at what I had done. I shuddered.

“Shhhh….” My master reached out for me, black-gloved hands encircling my trembling body. “You did well. You passed.”

“Passed?” I whispered.

“It wasn’t exactly planned, but it worked out very…nicely.”

“Nicely….” I repeated, still somewhat overwhelmed. They were supposed to die quickly. I wasn’t supposed to see their pain.

It was slow and gentle when my master kissed me again. I opened my mouth slightly, and his tongue slipped into my mouth, seeking and exploring. Cool fingers slid into my trench coat, toying with my nipples until I needed air again.

“Still want to?”

I nodded wordlessly. My master snapped his fingers and the dead man was instantly incinerated. He put a finger under my chin and made me look into his eyes. Molten malevolence resided there, slowly smoldering, but not directed at me. “Tell me…how do you want it?”

My cheeks reddened. I made to look down, but my master kept my chin up. “Tell me how.” It was a command, not a request.

“Slow,” I whispered, barely able to say it for the hot, burning shame that filled me. “Slow and hard.”

A wicked grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.

My master spread his hand and a knife slide into it from his sleeve. One slashed arc ripped reality in two. A portal bleeding deep purple tendrils of power opened. The world tipped backwards violently as my master picked me up bridal-style.

It was dark in the other realm, and as light didn’t pass through the portal, I couldn’t see a thing. My eyes did not adjust as quickly as my master’s. I was set down a quite a few paces from the portal, which shone weirdly in the darkness. The warmth of my master’s body retreated back to the portal.

I stood as still as possible, unaware of if I stood on the edge of a bottomless pit or next to a sleeping beast. The portal closed from end to end, like a jacket zipper.

The mention of clothes brought my mind abruptly back to the fact that the only things that stood between me and my master was a pair of boots, a half-open pair of pants, an open shirt, and a trench coat hanging loosely around me.

It was deathly silent. I knew my master could walk quietly, but here, it was as if I was unmercifully alone, with only the harsh, ragged sound of my breathing to keep me company.

Suddenly I felt hands grip my shoulders and push me backwards and downwards. I stifled a cry of surprise as my knees hit the edge of the bed and buckled.

Gloved hands yanked off my trench coat and shirt; my master’s familiar lips attacked my neck. He turned us the right way on the bed and slid his hands down my sides. Warmth was spreading to my cheeks and other regions, following my master’s fingers.
My master’s tongue invaded my mouth again as his gloved fingers toyed with the waistband of my pants. I wanted to twist and buck and move against him, gods I wanted it. Keening cries and moans poured from my lips, drawing seductive laughter from my master.

Damn! I realized, through my fog of ecstasy, that I was still wearing my boots. I made to sit up and untie them, but my master splayed a hand on my chest and pushed me back down. “Oh, no you don’t,” he whispered, hot breath curling around my ear. “You said slow. I intend to make it as slow as I please.” I whimpered—whether from fear or promise, I couldn’t tell. My master’s tongue played with my ear and licked along my jaw line, and then delved into my open mouth; it twisted with my own and rubbed my lower lip, tasting and licking.

My master broke away and I gasped for air, fighting for control of my body as my master licked and kissed along my collar bone. My already bloodied nipples were gone over once again. Kneeling over me, my master’s knees and ankles kept my lower body torturously still and his hands pinned my shoulders to the bed. But my master was slowly working lower, sliding down my body, tossing aside his boots, dipping his tongue in my navel, pulling off his gloves, and running cool fingers under my belt.

“…master…nnh—.”

“Take it off,” my master said softly, dangerously, pulling my hands to the front of his coat. I fumbled once, twice, and got the first clasp, snapping it open and making quick work of the others. My master took care of his own shirt, tossing it aside in the darkness. Then he moved lower, the end of the bed sinking from his weight.

I let out a cry which turned into a moan as my master pressed his face between my legs. Laces unknotted and loosened and finally came away at my master’s deft fingers. My boots were tossed aside. My master’s warm breath and gentle nudges were sending hot, unquenchable fire through me. I wanted so badly—

My master gave a soft laugh and I heard the click of a belt buckle and the sounds of weight shifting. “—master—aaaahh!—mmmk—.” He straddled me, now naked, and claimed my lips again, grinding into me, sending friction’s pleasure to my mind. “Nnh—more…Master…please….”

Thank the gods—my master slid his fingers into my pants and tossed them aside in one quick motion, me more than willing to lift my hips and help with that.

My master’s hands returned to my hips and pinned me. “Going to scream for me?”

I didn’t have time to reply before my master enveloped my member with his cursedly talented mouth. I did scream, trying to jerk my hips upward. My master held me firm and started slowly licking and sucking up and down. My breathing was harsh and irregular. I moaned and fought against the restraining hands.

One hand suddenly left my hips. I twisted up, but my master was ready for that and let my hardness go. The air was uncomfortably cold, but I felt burning hot inside. He reached for something and I heard a pop that I knew far too well for my own good. “Spread your legs,” my master ordered.

I did so, bringing my knees up. I was so vulnerable like this—.

One finger slipped between my ass cheeks and probed, cool and slick with lube. My master’s mouth returned to my erection again as a distraction, taking me completely in with no trouble at all. I moaned, breathing a lost cause. The single finger pushed inside me, closely followed by a second. It was painful but I was in too much ecstasy to care. My master’s fingers scissored back and forth, in and out, hard and slow. I whimpered and moaned, crying out when my master deep-throated me and slid the third finger inside. I tried to twist away, but my master held me down and plunged his fingers in again, drawing them out and pulling away.

“On your knees,” my master commanded. I turned over, hearing the distinctive pop again, hearing the shifting of weight, hearing the pounding of my heart.

My master seized my hips and plunged into me; I cried out in pain and pleasure as he hit the mark inside me that made me push back for more. He knew my body too well. He waited until I moved backward to him, accustomed to his size.

My master pulled out and pushed back in slowly, making me plead for him to go faster, to go harder. He did—gradually, loving every cry and moan that came from me, loving how I begged and pleaded shamelessly. Four times, five times, skin to sweaty skin; my master wrapped his fingers around my almost unbearably hard erection and fisted me—thrust, fist, thrust, fist—keeping me in constant overload.

He built up speed, strong and demanding now, plunging in and making me see white again and again, crying out. I pushed against him, back to him and then bucking into his hand. Closer and closer—I jerked harder back and forth.

“Nnh…master—I’m—ahhh!” I screamed his name, splashing white hot seed onto the sheets, fiery pleasure the only thing I was aware of. My master fisted me until I was spent, thrusting until he came explosively inside me.

I pushed the soiled sheet aside and slowly collapsed, my master moving away and slipping his pants on. Gathering his clothes, my master got ready to leave.

I felt him lean over the bed. “Good,” he said simply, seductively.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “Master.”

He touched my lips and turned away, his steps echoing into the void. My master would not return until morning. That sunk a blade deep into my heart. But that morning, I would get my instructions, and another chance to please my master and earn my reward. The ring flared to life briefly, healing my minor injuries. I could still hear my master’s footsteps softly tapping away. I tugged the sheets around me, feeling sleep steal over me as well. Master…

“I slit his throat, Master Bakura.”

“I know,” he replied, reaching a hand out. “Come on then, Ryou.”