Silent

11. One of many faces

The boy was left on the bed sobbing inconsolably, too weak to move when they left the room and closed the door, locking it with care.

He would be alright, Ricky never wanted to break his toys too early, not the important ones anyway and Michael was important. He hadn't gone through all that trouble to get him, just to waste all that potential so hastily.

The boy was a delicacy, a special treat that would raise envy and willingness to pay in those like-minded friends of his.

Not that he necessarily needed the money, he had enough from the business and the inheritance his father had left him. It was the power play aspect of it that thrilled him.

The first time might have been rough, but it would get easier for his pet, once he got used to it. Ricky always savored the first time, and with Michael, it had been well worth the wait and the effort it had taken to lure him in.

Feeling satisfied for the time being, he sat down at the table to enjoy a late lunch with his friend. The boy could eat later, he probably had no appetite yet. It would take him time to understand what had taken place, to understand his new position as his slave. The training was only beginning and Ricky was curious to see how long it would take him to yield that mind completely into his will.

The boy had now experienced his rude awakening. Fallen high from that made-believe dream he had successfully fed him to secure him as his prisoner.

Ricky Matthews was merely one of his many faces, a pretense he used when on the hunt for his victims.

Mr. Matthews, the advertising man, lonely and rich man looking for love. The truth was that he was rich and had an eye for young and beautiful men. Not because he was looking for love, but because he was looking for satisfaction through control, especially in the bedroom.

Richard Alexander Larkin was a man who had never known love to anyone, the only thing he had learned to love was power. He was the youngest child of his parents, his mother born wealthy and married off to an even wealthier family, to a man twice her age, which was another small truth he had given the boy.

Richard had three older sisters, the youngest of them already fifteen when he had been born. He was the son and heir that his father had always wanted but only gotten at the mature age of fifty-eight.

His mother was a social butterfly, who didn't much care for small children and had always relied on different nannies. Different because if they displeased her or if she thought they outshined her beauty, they had to go. Which led to Richard never emotionally bonding with anyone from an early age. His parents of course provided him with anything a young boy could desire, everything except for their presence and involvement.

He was educated in fine schools, supported with expensive hobbies. But lacking his parents' attendance was not the sole explanation for the darkness of his mind that had always been there. Their lack of attendance had perhaps merely allowed it to be unleashed and grow.

He was smart, he was a brilliant actor, knew how to study people and see what they expected or wanted of him and he acted accordingly. Money could buy almost everything and it was one of life's biggest goals; money, power, and success; or so his father, already passed, would have said.

Richard's favorite game had always been one of the people, one that brought him a thrilling sense of power unlike anything other. His parents, though emotionally often distant, did value everything that he was, their shining prince, one bound to success and bringing them pride with his conduct. And when they perhaps were incapable of normal love of parenthood they did their best to make it up in other means.