Disclaimers: I do not own Gundam Wing or any of its characters.
Notes: Lots of Lime ahead. Squicky LIME. Quatre torture. Dekim with his hands on Quatre. *shudder* Yuck. Others get to
play with Quatre as well. Enjoy reading.
Servitude, Retribution, and Enchantment
Quatre heard the door opening and turned his head to watch as Dekim walked in. Quatre wished that he could reach his eyes to
wipe away the tears . . . he really didn’t like that Dekim could see that he had been crying. Two men followed behind the vile
king, dressed in priests’ robes.
The two men wore long, dark robes of red and black. One of the men was overweight and had a long, thin mustache. The
other man was missing a nose, at least Quatre thought the nose was missing. He couldn’t really tell since the man had a wooden
nose fixed over where a real nose should be, a string tied around his head to keep it in place.
“Ah, my little slave.” Dekim smiled, crossing the room to stand by the bed. “Tonight is the ceremony. After tonight you will
be mine and mine alone.”
“No! Never!” Quatre shouted. He didn’t want that. He would never belong to that disgusting man. No matter what he had
planned, Quatre wouldn’t give in. Even if he did something like last time, Quatre would fight against it.
Dekim only laughed. “You don’t have a choice. My priests are very good at spell casting. They’ll see to it that nothing fails
tonight.” He turned to the men that had accompanied him into the room. “S . . . H . . . I believe it is time to prepare the young
prince for tonight’s ceremony.”
“Yes, my lord.” One of the men said.
Dekim departed, leaving Quatre alone with the two priests. Quatre shivered, trying to move away from them, but was prevented
from going anywhere because of the chains that bound him to the bed.
“S, would you be so kind as to remove the chains from his ankles?” One of the priests asked, which left Quatre to believe that
he was H. Quatre didn’t know why the man only had an initial for a name and he wasn’t going to ask. He just wanted out of
this situation. The smile that H flashed him left Quatre trembling in fear . . . it was just so disturbing.
S grabbed Quatre’s ankle, removing the shackle, then rubbing his hand over the welt left in Quatre’s skin, before moving over
and doing the same to the other ankle. He didn’t seem happy with doing this, something about his features conveying a deep
sadness in what he was doing.
As soon as his ankles were free, Quatre pulled his legs up to his body, getting himself into a sitting position as he moved as far
away from these men as he could get. “L-Leave me alone.” Quatre said, fighting his fear. These men obviously were capable
of casting spells, and Quatre didn’t know what they meant to do with him.
“Now, child . . . behave and this will be pleasant.” H said, grabbing hold of Quatre’s wrist and removing the shackle, his hand
keeping a tight grip on Quatre even after the shackle fell away.
Quatre tried to pull away from the man, but couldn’t. H had an unusually strong grip for a portly man. Before he even realized
that S had moved, Quatre found that his other hand had been unshackled and that S was currently holding his other wrist in just
as strong a grip as H had on him.
“Please . . . let me go.” Quatre pleaded, looking over at S.
The man smiled slightly, but shook his head. “I am sorry but I cannot.” He handed Quatre’s wrist over to H, allowing the man
to tie Quatre’s wrists together with a rope that was, oddly enough, pure white.
H then dragged Quatre from the bed, apparently not even caring that Quatre was still bare of all clothing. S walked around the
bed, grasping one of Quatre’s arms. With H holding firm to his other arm, they led him out of the room, naked and cold, not to
mention kicking and yelling for them to let him go.
Quatre fought the entire way, screaming as they dragged him down the corridors and into a room that left Quatre gasping in
shock. The stone walls were not a dreary gray as Quatre had become used to, no these seemed to be a pale blue. The room
was lit by some unseen source. As soon as he was dragged into the room, a draft of warm air swept around him, curling
around his body and caressing his flesh like an invisible arm.
He sighed despite himself, the room pacifying him. He didn’t understand and tried to fight back, but the room around him was
just so soothing. The priests had released his arms before he knew it. When he became aware of his surroundings again, he
found himself being led over to a tub of pure white porcelain by two beautiful young people. One was male, the other female . .
. both were garbed in white loincloths, veils covering their faces.
Quatre tried to fight back, and did attempt to pull himself away from those two people, but the room was so calming and his
body gave up on him, letting himself be led. The girl stepped in front of him, carefully untying the ropes around his wrists. As
soon as she untied them, Quatre’s hands fell limply to his sides.
“Come.” Said a harmonious voice as he was gently urged to move toward the tub.
Quatre stepped in and then sat, letting himself sink into the warmth that the water provided. He shivered in pure pleasure as he
felt the sensations of thousands of tiny fingers spread across his body, caressing every inch of his submerged form.
“Wha?” He managed to gasp, confused as to why he couldn’t think clearly. In the air he could smell the scent of incense. He
thought back, remembering what Meiran had been able to teach him during her short stay at the castle. He took a breath, trying
to determine what was in the air, hoping that his mind was clear enough to match the scents to names with the information that
Meiran had provided.
Mint . . . that was the first scent that assailed his nostrils. If he was correct that was supposed to increase sexual desire. The
other one was easy to identify, Meiran had used it to help him all those years ago . . . Dragon’s Blood . . . that supposedly
increased the powers of other incenses. Well, if that was true than these people wanted him to become aroused . . . and with
the way he felt right now it probably wouldn’t take much more to do it.
Distantly, Quatre could hear the chanting of the priests, but couldn’t exactly tell where either of them were. His eyes just
couldn’t seem to focus on anything outside of the tub besides those two young slaves, so he just let them slip closed.
The two slaves were stroking wet cloths along Quatre’s arms, each one cleansing one part and then moving along his body to
continue their job. Their hands roamed lower and Quatre felt himself sinking into oblivion, soothed into submission by the bath .
. . by the hands, both real and magical, that caressed him.
Quatre opened his eyes, just as he felt something cool wrap around his length. He looked down, worry crossing his mind as he
saw a metal band wrapped around the base of his member. He didn’t know what it was for, and at the moment he didn’t care
too much . . . he just couldn’t form fear in his mind right now.
He wasn’t sure how long he had been in that tub before he felt himself being lifted from it and carried somewhere unknown.
When he became aware again, he found himself lying on a bed, nothing but white surrounding him, his body completely dry.
Quatre looked around, confused as he didn’t see the tub . . . and the room was no longer blue but white. The priests were still
there, the scent of mint and dragon’s blood still flowing through the air. Quatre gasped, the calmness drifting from his body as
he felt hands caressing him again. He looked around to see the two slaves on either side of his body, stroking and touching him
in the most intimate of ways, the veils gone from their faces. But there were other hands . . . invisible ones . . . and he couldn’t
tell the difference between the them and the real ones.
The hands stroked and caressed. Quatre bit his lip, refusing the feelings, not wanting to react, no matter how enjoyable the
sensations were. “Feel it.” A whispered voice called out. “Give in.” The same voice said.
Quatre shook his head, denying it. He gasped though, his body writhing as those hands became more insistent. He took a
chance and looked down, watching in amazement as the two slaves each suckled on his nipples, biting gently and tugging at the
sensitive nubs, as their hands roamed across Quatre’s body.
Quatre felt something stroking his length, but when he looked, there was no hand there. Still his member became erect and he
bucked his hips against his invisible tormentor, throwing his head back against the pillows as he cried out in frustration. All they
did was tease him, he could feel the pressure building up within him, but when he tried to gain friction, there was nothing there
to thrust into, only air.
He whimpered, not wanting to give in, and yet wanting release. “Please . . .” He begged.
“It is time.” H stated. “Take him to the ceremonial chamber.”
The two slaves immediately stopped their caresses, removing their warm mouths from Quatre’s body. “Yes, my lord.” The
slave girl said.
Quatre was raised to his feet. The slave boy held Quatre up, keeping him from sinking to his knees, holding his wrists away
from the erection that he wanted to grasp so that he could end this. He barely noticed as a thin, white robe was put on him. His
mind so clouded with lust that he didn’t even register being taken out of the room and into another.
When he was finally aware again, he was kneeling on a black, marble altar that had a dark crimson cloth draped over it, his
palms flat against the top of the altar. His ankles and wrists were chained once again, keeping him from moving too much. It
wasn’t until the chanting started again that he even looked up. The chains to his ankles were firmly attached to the corners of
one end of the altar. The chains on his wrist were different though. They went through metal hoops at the other edge of the
altar and then were wound around a wooden wheel beside the altar. Quatre assumed that the chains could be shortened by
turning the wheel.
Quatre took in his surroundings, noticing the presence of what had to be dozens of red candles around the room. The sent of
mastic and patchouli assaulted his nostrils and he shook his head, trying to remember the significance. Mastic he knew was to
increase sexual desire . . . but for some reason the uses for patchouli evaded his mind.
He looked up, seeing that there was an opening in the roof and that the sky was visible. His heart pounded in his chest, seeing
the waxing moon coming into view above him, aligning with the hole. He knew from Meiran that a new moon such as that one,
was when rituals were performed to increase or stimulate sexual desires. The incense, the candles, and now the new moon . . .
just how much stimulation did they think Quatre needed?
“It's good to see you again, my little slave.” Dekim’s voice rang out.
Quatre turned, to see Dekim off to one side, looking at Quatre with lust in his eyes. He slowly approached the altar, carrying a
thin green candle in one hand. Quatre shuddered, noticing immediately that Dekim was stripped of all his clothing.
“Let me go.” Quatre said, wanting to shout, but it only came out as a weak whimper.
Dekim only let out a laugh as he continued to approach, toying with that candle that he held. “I don’t think so, my beauty.
Now, let’s finish preparing you for this ceremony.”
Quatre opened his mouth to ask a question, but yelped instead as Dekim reached out and pinched his ass. He looked back,
watching as Dekim dipped the blunt end of the candle into a bowl that was set on a nearby stone pedestal. When Dekim
removed it, the end of the green candle was covered in a thick red liquid. Quatre’s heart pounded, knowing that it was blood.
Dekim raised the hem of the robe that covered Quatre, lifting the candle to somewhere that Quatre could no longer see it.
Quatre gasped, trying to move away as he felt Dekim spreading his buttocks with one hand, sliding the candle up and to his
opening with the other. The robe fell back to where it had been, only propped up slightly by Dekim’s arms.
“No . . . don’t.” Quatre begged, not wanting this to happen.
“But your body wants this so much.” Dekim replied, reaching around and stroking Quatre’s still hardened member, while he
kept the candle poised at Quatre’s entrance. “And until I’m satisfied, you will have no release. That cock ring will prevent it.”
Quatre whimpered, feeling his body starting to quiver under Dekim’s ministrations. He rocked forward into Dekim’s hand,
seeking a release that he now knew wouldn’t come to him. Then, on one of his backward motions, Quatre stiffened, gasping
with his eyes widened, feeling as Dekim finally pushed the edge of the candle up into his body. It was more than just
uncomfortable . . . it was also quite painful. But as Dekim continued with that hand on his length, Quatre only became aware of
the surmounting pleasure in his groin, not truly noticing as the blood slick candle was pushed further in.
As much as Quatre fought against it, he continued to move, wanting release but knowing that it would not come unless Dekim
allowed him. Slowly, Dekim began to move the candle within Quatre’s body, pulling it out and thrusting it back in carefully.
Quatre didn’t know why Dekim was being so gentle, why he wouldn’t just force it further into him . . . then as Quatre thought,
he knew that the presence of pain would only make him enjoy it less and that could be the reason for Dekim’s caution. If
Quatre didn’t enjoy it, how could Dekim control him?
To Be Continued . . .