Ai No Kusabi Fan Fiction ❯ A Blondie's Tears ❯ One-Shot

A Blondie's Tears

<Ai no Kusabi>

NC-17, explicit yaoi

Raoul x Riki

by Kira Takenouchi

***The Ai no Kusabi world and its characters were created by Reiko Yoshihara. This fanfic was written by Kira Takenouchi and is offered free to fans of Ai no Kusabi.***

Riki stared up at Raoul in horror, instinctively trying to climb to his feet, but found, to his dismay, that he was restrained-his hands bound together and secured above his head, and his legs spread-eagled, manacled to some hidden restriction. He was completely naked, lying on a bed.

"Iason!" he cried, panicked, instinctively struggling against his restraints despite the obvious futility of his efforts.

Raoul laughed, his voice deep and menacing. "He can't hear you. And where you are, no one cares if you scream."

The mongrel gaped at his Blondie captor, who wore only a pair of membrane-thin silk trousers, his long hair flowing in waves over the impressive musculature of his upper body. Sculpted arms, crossed on his bare chest, bulged with the formidable strength the mongrel remembered all too well. His face was bloodstained, along with some of his hair, and his left cheek was bruised.

Riki's mind sifted through the images from the penthouse. He had been chained, smarting from Iason's taming, and then suddenly Raoul had appeared, and then….

Now his heart pounded as he remembered that Daryl had been knocked unconscious after being hurled against a wall. The cool sensation of metal against his throat told him he still wore his collar, but the neckchain was gone.

"Where's Daryl? Where am I?" Riki looked around the unfamiliar room, searching for anything that might tell him where he was. The room was dark. There was a long, low table-and on it….

Riki shuddered.

On it were all manner of punishment devices, lined up neatly as if on display. Somewhere, not too far away, he heard screaming.

Raoul leaned forward, smiling. "You're in the Taming Tower."

Riki heard these words with despair, knowing all too well what went on at the Taming Tower, the privately owned suites run by the infamous Omaki Ghan. It was a palace of punishment-a dark, but posh hotel where Elites brought their pets and Furniture to be tamed into total submission. In the case of pets-who with the occasional deviant exception were typically docile from inbred controls-Elites brought them simply to unleash their own sadistic fetishes on them. It was no secret that many Blondies enjoyed disciplining their pets for no reason other than their own amusement, and Omaki Ghan catered to these Elites, offering every sort of device and assistive technology available to appeal to the dark tastes of Tanagurian Blondies. Pets slated for termination were often brought to the Tower and there typically whipped to death with a C-20 kasey. Omaki Ghan handled the relocation of unwanted pets-the placement of older pets into brothels and open clubs and the disposal of those deliberately or accidentally killed during punishment.

Iason had threatened often enough to cart him off to the Tower for some serious punishment, yet had never followed through with his threat, always resolving any issue of disobedience with a thorough discipline session at home.

"He's…going to kill you," Riki warned, wondering desperately where Iason was.

The Blondie laughed again. "He'll never find you here. You're in for an eternity of pain and torture, mongrel. And anything else I want before I decide to kill you." He leaned close to his face, his voice lowering to a harsh whisper. "I'm going to fuck you until you bleed."

Riki said nothing, betrayed no emotions in his expression. But while he struggled to control his rising fear, he felt, more than anything, puzzled. Why did Raoul believe Iason would not find him? Could it be…he didn't know about the pet ring tracer?

Smirking, Raoul reached down and touched the pet ring, but the Blondie's unauthorized signature had no activation power, and Riki showed no independent sign of arousal-not in this situation.

"Let me guess. You're expecting your ring to save you. Any minute, Iason will come bursting in here to rescue you, isn't that it?" He laughed, a barbaric sound that sent chills through the mongrel.

Riki made no reply, staring icily at him.

Now the Blondie held up a small device-a spherical gadget with metal rings that gyrated noiselessly around its core.

"This is an Interceptor. An import from Xeron-unauthorized, of course. It blocks tracer signals within a two-hecatron radius. So. Iason will never be able to find you."

Raoul had made the acquisition the previous day when he had initially plotted to abduct and kill Riki, although at the eleventh hour he had abandoned his fell design; as he considered his pairing partner's history of vacillations and mixed signals throughout the tumultuous course of their relationship, he had decided to approach Iason one more time.

The debasement of his painting had changed everything; Raoul knew that Riki had done it, and at that moment he lost all perspective, his rage propelling him to resume his dark ambition.

The Blondie glared down at him. "Which means for the rest of your short, worthless life, you'll be begging me pathetically for mercy-not that I intend to give it."

Despairing from this news, Riki trembled, but made a decision. He would incite Raoul into killing him rather than endure his agenda of torture.

"Fuck you," he spat.

Raoul repaid his defiance with a hard backhand to his face, delivered with a bare hand after the Blondie had whipped off his glove.

"Keep your filthy mouth shut," he snarled. "You'll speak only when I tell you to."

"I'll speak whenever the fuck I want, you perverted shit-eating Blondie bastard!"

Another hard strike across his face. Now Riki tasted blood in his mouth, but this didn't silence him. It was better to go quickly. He laughed, defiantly. "Even if you kill me, it's not going to change the fact that Iason didn't want you. How does that make you feel, knowing he prefers his mongrel pet to you?"

Surprisingly, Raoul laughed at this. "If you're trying to provoke me into killing you right away so you can forgo the pain that's in store for you, I'll tell you now-your mongrel arts don't work on me. I have no intention of rushing the agenda, so you might as well accept that your last moments of life are going to be pure hell."

"He'll kill you," Riki said, darkly, his black eyes glimmering. "He'll tear you to pieces, when he finds out what you did to me. He'd kill you just for touching me and bringing me here-and for everything else you do from here on, he'll make you suffer in ways you can't imagine."

"Silence!" Raoul struck him again, hard, giving him a bloody lip. He knew Riki was right-Iason would not tolerate what he had done. He'd thrown everything away-his reputation, his career, and most likely his life-by taking Iason's pet. He would be forced to flee Amoi, or else betray Iason to Jupiter to escape the Blondie's vengeance.

But…he wasn't going to dwell on any of that now. He'd already abducted Riki…he couldn't change that. So, given what it would cost him, Raoul was determined to enjoy the hours…or perhaps even days…ahead.

He uncuffed one of Riki's ankles, fingers biting into his skin like a vice when the mongrel tried to use the opportunity to kick him. Restraining him easily with his formidable grip, Raoul released the other ankle, then, smiling slightly as he looked into Riki's eyes, flipped him over firmly onto his stomach. With deliberate roughness, he cuffed Riki's ankles again, enjoying the view of Iason's pet bound, prostrate, and spread-eagled, and especially the dark bruises on the mongrel's bottom.

"This must be Iason's handiwork," he said, brushing his fingers gently along the mongrel's punished bottom before suddenly striking him as hard as he could, eliciting a deliciously anguished scream from his captive.

"Ohh," Raoul laughed brokenly. "I'm really going to enjoy this."

He walked over to the table to select his first instrument of pain. Privately he wondered how Iason could claim to love the mongrel and then leave such angry bruises on him, although he had no doubt that Riki deserved it. For the first time it occurred to him that, given the fact that Riki was chained next to the defaced painting and that he had obviously very recently endured a brutal taming, Iason had punished him because of the painting. A faint, more rational voice from deep within urged him to contact Iason and offer to return Riki to him now, before he laid another hand on him.

Then, Iason's confession of his love for Riki pressed into his mind, the pain tormenting him anew and reaffirming the necessity of what he had in mind for Iason's pet.

Picking up a long, thick paddle, he turned and held it up to Riki, who watched his selection with trepidation. "Remember this? An excellent choice, wouldn't you say? I seem to remember you especially enjoyed being paddled."

Now Raoul walked slowly toward the mongrel, paddle in hand, the fearsome look on his face terrifying to Iason's manacled and bound pet.

Iason was not going to save him. Without the tracer's signature, there was no way for his master to find him. While his rational mind spoke these facts to him coldly, his heart told him something altogether different-that somehow, Iason would find him. He would find a way. Closing his eyes, he tried to link minds with Iason, sending him an image of where he was. He knew he didn't need to plead for his master to help him; if Iason knew where he was, he would come.

Despite his fear, he was determined not to give Raoul the satisfaction of his tears, and so he steeled himself for what he knew would be nearly unbearable pain.

His prediction was not in error. With savage force, Raoul brought down the paddle on Riki's newly tamed bottom, giving the mongrel his first real taste of hardcore punishment. He screamed-or someone near him did, he was too disoriented from the pain to make the distinction.

"Yes," Raoul whispered, delighted with the mongrel's reaction and agonized scream. He paused for a moment, resting the paddle gently against his buttocks tantalizingly, his hands starting to tremble.

Then, with lightning speed, he whipped his arm back and brought the paddle down with another excruciating blow announced by a loud whack, followed by more screaming.

"Iason!" Riki called out instinctively, desperate for his master to save him from Raoul, his Bison pride completely evaporated.

"Iason is not going to help you." The words were uttered coldly, darkly, as Raoul once again rested the paddle on the mongrel's flesh in preparation for the next strike.

"Why…are you doing this?"

"I told you…to keep your mouth SHUT!" Whack!

Riki screamed, this time his cries ending in anguished sobs, despite all his intentions not to let Raoul see him cry. The pain was beyond comprehension. "Please, Raoul," he whispered.

Whack! "Did you not hear me? You'll stay silent unless spoken to! And you're to address me as Master Raoul."

You're NOT my master, Riki thought, angrily, his thoughts then turning to Iason. He would never see the Blondie again, he realized now. And he had never really told him the secret he kept in his heart…that he loved him-and that, despite his continuous rebellions against his authority, Riki had come to feel comfortable, even proud, of his status as Iason's special pet. He had continually defied Iason out of anger at himself; he was ashamed that he had come to love his Blondie master, who he knew could never return his feelings in the same way; he wanted to be punished for his stupidity and weakness, and he craved, in some deeply twisted way, the attention and intimacy that came with brutal punishment-the intensity of the bond between them as master and pet when Iason asserted his authority and demanded complete submission. He wondered what his master's reaction really would be when he discovered what had happened to him, after he had unleashed his vengeance on Raoul for abducting and violating his property. Would he really care that he had died? How soon would he acquire another pet?

Punishing Riki was immensely arousing to the fearsome Blondie. As he rested the paddle threateningly on Riki's bottom between strikes, he fondled himself, his engorged cock easily accessible in his loose, silken trousers. When Riki began begging him, his need for coitus became too urgent to ignore. There was plenty of time for more punishment. He set the paddle down on the bed, lowering his trousers to his thighs, then climbed onto the bed and on top of the mongrel, penetrating him without preparation or comment.

Plunging into the mongrel's tight depths savagely, he relished Riki's cries as he tore through unwilling flesh, the blood from his pillage soon providing lubrication to enhance his pleasure. It was a brutally delightful fuck, and Raoul loved every minute of it. Beneath him, Riki endured the rape through gritted teeth, glad for a reprieve from the paddling, but not enjoying his depredation in the least, wishing with every fiber of his being for Raoul's death. It was hard to believe that he had actually enjoyed it the last time the Blondie had taken him.

"I'm going to fuck you all night. Until you're raw. Then I'll rough you up inside a bit and fuck you some more. After I punish you first. I'll fuck you until I'm tired of you and then I'll castrate you before you die." Raoul whispered his dark promises into the mongrel's ear, his deep voice strangely sensual from his arousal, creating a disturbing incongruency between his erotic delivery and the eerie content of his speech.

Horrified, Riki closed his eyes, trying desperately to remove himself from the hell he had awoken to as he prepared himself for torture and death. His thoughts drifted to the friends and lovers he had known during the course of his lifetime, and of those he had loved most, one man dominated them all-his beautiful master, Iason Mink.

* * *

Deciding on the right whip took Iason longer than he had anticipated. The selection of suitable implements at the pavilion was mind-boggling; Yousi had an entire wall devoted to whippage. Though Iason had never been particularly fond of whips, he had always had a special weakness for fine craftsmanship, and began admiring the imported Icarian bone handles among some of the more luxurious models, most notably the engraved and bejeweled Emperor series. The MXV Emperor, in particular, was intricately engraved with an ancient gripping-beast motif, which Iason recognized as belonging to the barbarian culture of Urasia-an intriguing replica, especially considering the fact that it had been imported from Xeron. The tiny eyes of the beasts were inset with gems-rubies, sapphires, gamians, and an intriguing, multi-colored gem Iason did not recognize.

The handle's ornamentation reminded him of Riki-it was exactly the sort of thing his pet would have been drawn to-except in this case, he might have been less enthusiastic, given its functional use. Just thinking of Riki sent darker thoughts edging into his consciousness; the image of his pet lying curled up on the floor, tear-stained face distorted with pain, filled him with sadness. His anger had now dissipated considerably, though he was still pained over the loss of a great work of art. Iason had been severe on Riki this time, and while there was no question that his pet deserved it, he found the mongrel's pathetic suffering a little hard to bear.

Just knowing that he would have to be firm with his pet, now that a new Furniture was coming into his household, was distasteful to him. He wasn't looking forward to taming Riki all over again-this time properly, as he should have from the start. Punishment and discipline were one thing-but having to break the mongrel's spirit, force him finally into complete submission, was something else altogether. Yet, something had to be done to rein in Riki's disobedience. His own reputation was at stake. He shuddered to think how Raoul would react when he discovered what had happened to his painting. Iason could perhaps keep it from him for a time-but not forever.

Though less disheartened about the necessity of punishing Katze and Daryl, Iason had no real desire to carry out the evening's agenda. While he might admittedly enjoy disciplining Katze-some-he doubted he would get much satisfaction punishing either of them as severely as he knew he must. It was simply what must be done…what any other Blondie would do. Both men had earned the whipping in store from them. But Iason was not administering the punishment out of revenge, or even-at this point-anger. He was simply fulfilling his responsibilities as an Elite, doing exactly what Jupiter would insist he do.

All the same, he wished the evening would not come. Had such punishment been his to administer years before, he would not have given it a moment's thought. He would not have dreaded the suffering of the eunuch lovers or felt pity for them-and the fact that he did so now disturbed him.

But, regardless of the cognitive dissonance that plagued him, Daryl and Katze were to be punished; Iason needed to finalize his decision regarding the whip. The MXV Emperor was truly a work of art, and only after admiring the handle for a considerable amount of time did he consider the punishing lash itself, noting that it was a full-sized, quarter-inch whip with emission technology. He searched the handle for the options with some confusion, not finding a display.

"Lord Iason, may I help you with that?" an attendant asked, gently, having watched the Blondie quietly for some time.

"Where's the panel?"

The attendant took the whip and pointed to the largest gripping-beast, then pressed down on its tongue. Immediately the entire face lifted and slid to the side, revealing the command panel.

"What does it do?"

"It has six emission options-sting, G-wave, stimulant, buffer, accelerator, and opiate release," the attendant explained. "Sting, of course, releases an irritant into the flesh. G-wave elicits sexual arousal. Stimulant…releases a potent norepinephrine to revive the unconscious. Buffer provides the usual protective retracting mechanism to reduce scarring-quite an innovation for the whip, although some scarring is still probable. Accelerator…applies an opiate-free accelerator with each lash to promote healing-also quite painful, incidentally. And…opiate release provides variable options for administering pain relief."

"What is the point of an opiate release during a whipping?" Iason demanded, amused.

"I believe, Lord Iason, that the Icarian government requires this option on all emission series whips because of pressure from the Pet Rights activists, who control the Senate."

The Blondie laughed softly. "What idiocy. Nothing is gained by including an option that no one will use. Politics are the same everywhere, it seems."

The attendant appropriately made no reply to this, waiting to see if he had any further questions. Iason decided he wanted to try the whip out, and strode over to the target pole. Opting to test it without emissions, he closed the command panel and then stood for a moment, just getting used to the feel of the thick handle in his hands, adjusting his grip with a few small tosses.

Taking a step back, he brought his arm back and then, lightning fast, unleashed a strike, almost casually, to the target pole, eliciting a loud crack. Brow furrowed, he moved back and struck again, this time putting his back into it, twisting his body to add some force, and was rewarded with an even more impressive-sounding crack. He struck the pole a few more times, then stopped. Unlike previous visits to Yousi's shop, the Blondie was not getting his usual thrill.

"Have you found something suitable, Lord Iason?"

"This will do."

The attendant bowed. "Sir Yousi hopes you will accept it as a token of his admiration and respect."

Iason's lips curled into a slight smile. "And are you sure Yousi realizes this is a 400,000 credit whip?"

"He has said whatever you choose is yours-no charge. And anything else you might like."

The Blondie laughed softly, amused with mileage he was getting on Yousi's fear of him and guilt over the C-20 incident.

"We have a very nice selection of belts with multiple sheaths-I see you carry a taming stick," the attendant continued.

"Not necessary." Iason knew he would not be carrying the whip with him in public. Even if he needed to, he would simply attach it to his belt by the detachable loop hanging from its base. It was time he returned home-he was deliberately procrastinating the inevitable, and Katze would be arriving soon.

"Give my regards to Yousi," Iason said, and with a slight nod, exited the shop.

Returned to the top-floor of the complex, he turned the whip around in his hands, admiring the ornamented handle. He unsnapped the carrying loop and secured the whip to his belt. The whip hung down against his long leg, the tip brushing against the floor.

As he approached his door, he suddenly was overcome with an eerie sensation. The door hummed open automatically at his approach, configured to the emission signature that was programmed into his wrist terminal. Stepping into the penthouse, he stopped cold.

Daryl was lying on the floor, blood pooling around his face. His eyes immediately darted to the corner of the great hall-the place he had last seen Riki.

His pet was gone.

"Riki!" he bellowed, rushing toward the post, examining its broken clasp with horror. No one but a Blondie-an extremely strong one at that-could have ripped a neck chain from the post. Iason didn't know anyone who could do it-except perhaps one person.

The painting was facedown on the floor and Riki's urinal had been knocked over, its liquid contents swirling with blood that was splattered everywhere.

Panicked, Iason rushed back to Daryl, falling to his knees to examine him, then shaking him desperately.

"Daryl! Daryl!" Almost angrily, he forced the wounded Furniture into consciousness. The boy moaned. His eyes flicked open, grey and uncomprehending.

"Where's Riki?" Iason demanded.

Slowly regaining some sense of where he was and what had happened, Daryl parted his blood-stained lips and mouthed a single word: Raoul.

The Blondie's eyes grew wide with horror and rage. Leaping to his feet, he dashed to the command center, pulling up Riki's tracer coordinates. His heart beating like a war drum, he stared at the message in horror.

Error 29/b/16789004- Z107M. Receiver Not Found.

Iason blinked in disbelief. Not found? How…how was that possible?

"Riki," he whispered, resting his face in his hands. His beloved, most precious pet was in the hands of an Elite who Iason knew bore him no good will. Riki was in absolute peril. And there was nothing he could do to help him.

Why had Riki's tracer pattern disappeared? How had Raoul managed to evade the tracing system?

A buzz at the door snapped him to action. He rushed toward it, his presence activating the automatic response sequence as the door hummed open.

Katze.

The handsome eunuch had never seen Iason Mink in such a state before. His face, though always fair, was deathly pale-an expression of unmistakable fear etched in his features-his eyes wildly intense, his lips parted and his breathing labored.

"Iason! What is it?"

"Riki's gone. Raoul's taken him."

Katze's brow furrowed as he tried to digest this terse but alarming bit of information.

"Taken…him? You mean you don't know where he is? But the tracer-"

Iason shook his head. "He's off the grid. His signature has disappeared."

As the severity of the situation began to sink in, Katze was seized with a horrible thought.

"And…Daryl?"

Iason, who was lost in thought, now seemed to remember the fallen youth, turning to look toward him.

"Daryl!" Katze cried, dashing to his lover's side. He knelt down, panic-stricken, overcome with emotion upon seeing him lying motionless in a pool of blood. "Oh god. Oh my god. Daryl!" He desperately tried to rouse him, out of his mind with fear. "Open your eyes, love. Please, sweetheart." Katze looked up at Iason. "Did you call a medical team?"

"No."

"What? Dammit, Iason! You just left him like this? Fucking get him some help!"

The Blondie did not respond, but simply stood, staring at a trail of blood he had just noticed on the floor, drops splattered from the door to the corner of the great hall where Riki had been chained to his post.

"Fuck!" Katze fumbled in his jacket pocket for his phone, flipping it open with trembling fingers. "Tanagura Medical. Emergency," he ordered, then, upon reaching a connection, had a team immediately dispatched to Iason's apartment.

Staring down at Daryl's motionless body, Katze was overcome with emotion-fear, grief, overwhelming love. This was the first time he'd seen him in the flesh in weeks, and to see him thus turned his heart inside out. Cradling his lover's head in his lap, he began rocking, tears flooding down his face, as he prayed to Astrajia, begging for help.

Iason, who did not believe in gods or other entities capable of intervention in the realm of men or the laws of the quantum universe-other than Jupiter-had no one to appeal to for his own peace of mind. He did not even know how to pray. He suffered without comfort in an inner realm of dark torment, his mind beset with a thousand images of what was happening to Riki.

Horrible things.

And there was nothing he could do. Nothing.

His mind raced as he calculated how far Raoul could have gotten-even if Raoul had abducted Riki immediately after Iason had left for the pavilion, he could not have gotten far. But…which direction? How had he managed to block the tracing signal? Iason wasn't even aware such a thing was possible. But then…Raoul always seemed to be a step ahead when it came to technology.

Sitting down heavily in his favorite chair, the chair where countless times Riki had crawled onto his lap, Iason stared vacantly before him at Riki's punishment corner, at the blood splattered on the floor, suddenly realizing how defenseless his pet would have been against Raoul, chained to the post and sore from his thrashing. Daryl obviously could provide no significant protection-unless, of course, he had been armed. But Iason never imagined his pet would be in danger in his own home or that an assault would come from a Blondie.

He had underestimated Raoul-the intensity of his passion, the extremes he would go to, and how cruel he could truly be.

"Riki," he whispered, suddenly overcome with emotion, longing to have his pet safe in his arms. With trembling fingers, he brushed a hot wetness from his eyes, the impossible, indescribably sad tears of a Blondie.

His head ached-pounding-the pain excruciatingly intense. He had to do…something. He had appeal to Jupiter for assistance, even if there was nothing Jupiter could do. In doing so, he would probably lose Riki…but if it could ensure his safety, he was willing to risk Jupiter's terms and the inevitable reprimand.

The pain his head was suddenly overwhelming. Iason brought his hands to his temples, moaning. Suddenly, a bright, pristine light blinded him for a moment, and then, as it faded, Iason saw Riki. Tied to a bed. Raoul stood over him, laughing. The image shifted, becoming less distinct. Then, he saw a tall building, the letters of its flashing neon marquee slowly coming into focus-Taming Tower.

In the next instant the vision was gone, and the Blondie became aware of Katze's voice as tried to rouse Daryl.

"Come on, love," Katze whispered. "Wake up now, darling. I'm here."

Iason was on his feet, now in a frenzy. He ran to his desk to retrieve his laser, stopping cold when he saw that the entire drawer had been emptied out.

"Where's my laser?" he demanded. "Katze! Are you armed?"

"No."

"Why aren't you?"

Katze shrugged. "I didn't feel like dealing with your building's security check. Didn't figure there was a need for it in Eos."

Iason clenched his teeth, frustrated, then headed for the door. "I'm going."

"Where?"

"Midas. He's there. At the Taming Tower."

"How could you…possibly know that?"

"I saw it."

Perplexed, Katze said nothing, feeling pity for Iason, who he believed was so grief-stricken that he was no longer in his right mind. In that moment he was almost able to forgive the Blondie for failing to tend to Daryl-it was clear to him now that Iason was entirely preoccupied with his pet's well-being, his love for him so great that everything else was simply of no importance to him. Katze felt the same way…about Daryl.

"I'm staying with Daryl," he asserted, in case there was any question about it.

Iason barely acknowledged him, his gaze resting briefly on his face before he left the penthouse.

The Blondie had never driven so fast in his life. He swerved in and out of traffic, narrowly averting several accidents, finally switching to hover-mode and pulling up into restricted airspace to increase his speed without endangering others. Tanagura Police immediately transmitted a request for confirmation of his identity. Iason entered his passcode.

The Chief of Police flickered onto the monitor screen. "Iason Mink. May we assist you?"

"No."

"Your speed exceeds protocol." It was stated simply, as though an everyday occurrence, when in fact no one, in years, had violated hovercraft airspace laws. But…this was Iason Mink.

"Override Alpha-Seven-Seven-Delta-Nine."

"Yes Sir. We'll relay your override to Midas Police." The screen went blank…but only for a moment.

Now Jupiter appeared.

"Why are you in restricted airspace?" she asked.

"Just for a little amusement," Iason smiled, adopting a relaxed, demure demeanor with surprising ease. Deception was one of his many gifts, and when it came to Jupiter, the Blondie had always been able to play her easily.

"You gave your code to override speed protocol."

Iason laughed. "Does that displease you? I wanted to see what she could do. I can go back to ground standard if you prefer." His heart was beating fast. What would he do if Jupiter ordered him to stop, summoning him?

"You're heading into Midas. Do you have business there?"

"Just pleasure. Doctor Yutaku thought a little recreation would help these headaches I've been having."

Satisfied, Jupiter now switched gears. "I have something for you-you can pick it up at the Dark Horse."

"I'm flattered," Iason said, his voice low and seductive.

"Be careful."

Now the screen went blank, and Iason shivered, wiping the sweat from his brow. Did Jupiter's warning refer to his speed, or something else? Any other time, he would have brooded over Jupiter's words for hours. But not now.

He had crossed into Midas. It didn't take long to find the Taming Tower-it was almost the tallest building in the pleasure city, situated near the center of town in the E-Zone district. Now that he was close to confronting Raoul and finding Riki-at least he hoped he was-Iason began to be consumed by the rage that grew within him, demanding release.

His anger with Raoul went beyond anything he had ever felt before. Raoul had taken his beloved pet-which by itself was a crime-and Iason had no doubt he was tormenting Riki in horrific ways. He was ready to kill Raoul and he would do so, if necessary. But first he would make him suffer. Even if he didn't kill him, he would make him wish he was already dead.

* * *

Riki was aware that Raoul had left for a moment. He heard the sound of water, and then a slight curse uttered by the Blondie. Smiling, the mongrel guessed that Raoul was cleaning the wounds he and Daryl had inflicted on him. At least they had managed to gift him with some resistance and perhaps a little pain. The image of Daryl biting on the Blondie's ear suddenly amused him, providing him a little relief from the horror of his situation.

His smile soon faded as Raoul came back into view, his face and mane now clean, the hair around his temples damp. "Shall we continue?" he asked, with an ominous smile.

The Blondie wandered unhurriedly over to the table of terror, pondering his instrument choice with disconcerting casualness.

"This might be amusing," he said, examining a whip with an air of affected boredom. "Though…I suppose it doesn't much matter which one I choose next, since you'll eventually feel them all."

"You're a fucking asshole," came the mongrel's defiant retort.

"I told you," Raoul hissed, "not to speak, and to address me as Master Raoul!"

"How can I address you as Master Raoul if I'm not supposed to speak, you fucking retard?"

At these words, Raoul strode forward and unleashed his fury onto his captive's backside with a full-sized three-quarter inch whip, immediately drawing blood. Riki screamed in anguish, having never experienced the searing pain of a full-sized whip, and finding it most unpleasant.

"Who's the idiot now? What kind of imbecile provokes the hand that's about to whip him?"

Unable to articulate a response that actually included words, Riki simply wailed his frustration and agony as the Blondie burned new tracks of pain into his already severely punished flesh, adding to his misery a savage whipping that extended from his back down to his thighs.

The pain was so intense, so unbelievably overwhelming, that Riki began to drift in and out of consciousness. He eventually became aware that the whipping had ceased; he felt light-headed and cold and wondered if he would bleed to death. He would embrace death now if it came-anything to remove him from the horror of his current reality.

He became aware suddenly of an excruciating, burning pain on his backside, and he screamed incessantly as the Blondie applied an entire can of accelerator to his open wounds.

"Stings a little, doesn't it?" Raoul smiled, enjoying Riki's misery. "But I can't have you bleeding to death now, when we have so much still ahead of us."

"I hope he…fucking tortures you to death," he whispered through parched lips, his voice hoarse from screaming.

Raoul grabbed his hair, pulling his head back violently. "Well, we both know that's how you're going to die, don't we?"

Encouraged by the fact that the Blondie seemed to have abandoned his Address-Me-As-Master-Raoul mandate, Riki grew bolder, laughing defiantly.

"We'll see how much you're laughing after I'm done with you." Raoul released him, and went to retrieve a new implement from the table. This time it was a branding wand. Flipping the unit on, the Blondie smiled at the mongrel's expression as the tip of the wand grew red-hot.

"I suppose you're wondering what I'm planning to do with this. Allow me to enlighten you. I'm going to brand you with my initials. After that," he laughed softly, "let's just say…it's a surprise."

* * *

Setting down on the rooftop of the Taming Tower, Iason wasted no time getting out and rushing to the elevator that would take him to Omaki Ghan's private office. He got in, punching in overrides for all other user requests, and increasing transport speed to maximum. As soon as he arrived on Omaki's level, he dashed into his office, relieved to see him there.

"I have an emergency situation. I need to know which room Raoul Am is in."

"Iason Mink," Omaki greeted, with a slight bow. "What an honor."

"Now, Omaki!"

The Blondie raised an eyebrow at Iason's emotional state, answering without even checking his terminal. "Floor 89, room Z542."

"I need access. Disable the locks."

"I can't do that, Iason," Omaki said softly. "Suppose you were to commit…a crime of some sort. If it could be shown I assisted you, I'd lose everything. You know my record."

Iason grabbed hold of his shirt, pushing him close to the terminal screen. "Disable them now, or I'll kill you."

"That's it," the Blondie said, smiling, as he typed in the wanted deactivation codes. "I can't be held accountable if you FORCE me to disable them. Also, would you mind locking me in that closet, so it's clear I couldn't alert the police?"

Ignoring this, as well as the amused look on Omaki's face, Iason left, making for Raoul's room.

* * *

R.A. The initials were now burned into the mongrel's flesh, on his lower back just above his left cheek. Riki had never been burned before. He was learning that pain came in many different forms, each one different from the others but just as excruciating in its own unique way. Being branded as Raoul's also carried the sting of humiliation-he would die with the Blondie's initials stamped onto his flesh.

Riki had now despaired of Iason's saving him, despite his earlier optimism that his master would somehow find him.

Raoul still held the hot branding wand in his hand, and when the Blondie spread his cheeks apart with his fingers and Riki realized what he had in mind, he broke down and pleaded. "Please, Raoul…have mercy."

"Call me Master Raoul," the Blondie said in a low voice, "and I'll think about it."

Trying to choke down his pride, Riki opened his mouth to offer the wanted appellation. But he couldn't.

"Say it!"

Riki could feel the heat of the wand near his portal. But even if he called Raoul his master, would the Blondie stop what he had in mind? Riki didn't think so.

"You had your chance. Now you'll pay for your obstinacy."

At that moment, the door to the suite hummed open, and there stood Iason Mink.

The Blondie had never looked more formidable, his wrath etched unmistakably onto his features. He stood, whip in hand, his eyes dark with rage and his breathing labored as he took in the scene before him, fuming. He glowered at Raoul, who was touching his pet in his most private regions-places forbidden to anyone but Iason Mink-brandishing a hot iron frighteningly close to a place of critical importance to both master and pet. His gaze shifted to his pet, who stared back at him with indescribable relief, restrained so helplessly on a blood-spattered bed.

"Iason!" Riki could hardly believe his eyes.

Raoul spun around to find, incredibly, that it was true. He stared at Iason incredulously, unable to conceive how he had possibly found him.

"Step away from him and drop that wand," Iason said, coldly.

"You drove me to this," Raoul retorted. "In your heart you know this."

"How dare you touch him, Raoul! How dare you!"

"How dare you reject me for this filthy mongrel!"

"I told you to drop that wand." Iason walked toward the Blondie, flipping his wrist to crack the whip menacingly.

Instead, Raoul lunged for him, hoping to overcome him by brute strength. Furious, Iason unleashed the whip on Raoul, knocking the wand from his hand and leaving bloody trails across his chest and arms as the Blondie instinctively raised his hands to shield off Iason's savage whipping. The loud crack of the Blondie's whip preceded Raoul's surprised and anguished cries, a symphony of punishment that made the weak, tortured mongrel laugh softly, able to delight in his tormenter's suffering despite his own agonizing pain.

Iason had set the whip emission option to Sting, which delivered a painful dose of burning irritant with every lash.

Suddenly, in a move that surprised Iason, Raoul grabbed hold of the whip as it lashed toward him, and with a mighty yank, pulled the whip from Iason's hand, sending it spinning erratically through the air behind him. Hand dripping with blood, Raoul rushed toward Iason, who thwarted his attack with a formidable punch to his face, then pulled out his taming stick to continue gifting Raoul with furious, unremitting blows.

Howling like a child, Raoul backed away, trying to escape the fury of the enraged Blondie.

"I'm going to beat you death," Iason hissed.

"No!" Riki protested, hoarsely. "Torture him first!"

Smiling, Iason decided to honor his pet's request-after he beat the Blondie unconscious first. "What's your view on this, Raoul?" he asked, continuing to pummel the Blondie with an implement intended solely for unruly pets.

Unable to answer, Raoul cowered under the punishing arm of his old pairing partner, who seemed to be surrounded with a glowing aura that enhanced the fearsome beauty of his rage. He had never seen Iason look so frightening, his eyes glimmering darkly, his mouth set in a hard, uncompromising line, his arm whipping back with unrelenting retribution.

Iason did not stop until Raoul fell to his knees, at which time he grabbed him by his hair and spit unto his face, mongrel-style, much to Riki's utter joy.

"Fuck yeah!" Riki rasped, laughing weakly.

"I'm not finished with you," Iason warned, his voice shaking with fury, his face close to the broken Blondie who knelt before him. "Unfortunately for you, I'm not going to kill you now. When you wake up, you're going to find out what pain really is. Make no mistake, Raoul: you're going to fully regret each and every action you did to my Riki."

Iason then began pounding him mercilessly with his fists, blood splattering on them both, until finally Raoul slumped to the ground, losing consciousness. He kicked him a few more times out of pure rage.

Turning, Iason rushed to his pet's aid, gasping as he took in the extent of Riki's injuries, his entire backside covered with bruises and lashmarks, his bottom black and bleeding, his portal purple and violated. There was blood everywhere. And burned into the mongrel's skin were the initials R.A.

"Riki," he breathed, his voice thick with emotion, as he gently freed him of his restraints. Picking him up effortlessly, Iason pulled him close. Eyes closed, he relished holding his beloved pet in his arms again.

"I knew you'd come," Riki whispered.

"Pet. If I hadn't gotten here in time," now Iason fell silent, his voice choked by a constricting of his throat.

"But you did. I knew you would."

"Look what he's done to you. And I can only imagine-."

"It's over now," Riki interrupted.

"Oh Riki. I nearly went out of my mind. You are so precious to me. I…love you so much."

"I love you, too, Iason." Riki confessed his heart freely, wanting his master to know. He felt weak, sick-and was in so much pain-but Iason had come to save him, and for that the Blondie deserved the truth.

Hearing these words for the first time, spoken so sweetly from the pet who lay so limply in his arms, eyes starting to roll back, Iason once again experienced the inexplicable sting that presaged a wetness in his eyes.

A Blondie's tears.

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