No Way Out

The After Party

⚠️TW⚠️ *abuse, torture, rape*

The children hid behind their parents as the slave was dragged away. Their cold eyes mirrored the adults’. A lowly slave getting what it deserved. That’s all it was, and once the slave left their sights, they carried on with their games as if nothing had ever happened.

The duke apologized to his guests, and ordered servants to clear up the mess that his pet had created. Nobody questioned him. Nobody question the situation itself. They had no reason to. Not only was it a slave, but everyone there wanted to maintain friendly relations with the duke. To confront him was to threaten that powerful connection. The laughter resumed, and carried on until the last of the guests stepped out of the manor, and into their carriages.

Midnight came, and the manor was once again filled with silence. Servants were busy wiping down the tables, and clearing the floor as the duke swayed up the stairs, and to his slave’s room. The lock clicked, and the door slid open with a terrible creak. Footsteps echoed in the dark room as the door shut closed shut behind him. This was the moment he’d been waiting for. His sick, twisted mind was drunk on his desires as he reached for his favorite whip.
The duke took his sweet time that night bringing the whip down on his pet’s already bruised, and injured rear. The crack of the whip could be heard throughout the manor’s first floor, but if any servant were to hear it, they would keep their silence out of fear of the master of the household. The duke brought the whip down on the male’s sides, and calculated where the lashes would hurt the most to get what he felt were the greatest reactions. Unable to move an inch, his pet was at his complete mercy. Just the way he liked it. The duke dug his heel into the make’s side as he continued to utilize his whip.
The moment he abandoned the whip, the duke readied himself for the next part in what became their nightly routine. He violated the male repeatedly, and when he tired of one position, he would kick the male, still bound to the stool, on to his side. The male would then be untied from the stool, rolled onto his back, then violated again. His fingertips dug into the male’s skin as he was rocked violently. Only until the duke was completely satisfied did he pull out for the night, and leave to retire for the night with the slave still bound on the floor.

That sort of treatment befell the duke’s slave every night. The duke would try various methods just to draw the fear and pain out of the male. The sole candle that lit the room became another instrument to inflict pain, as did the bucket of water the duke brought in to wash his slave every now and then. The duke knew just the right methods to gain the satisfaction he craved. Over time, he would give the slave a little bit more freedom when he was not interested in having his way with him. The male’s ankle would be bound to the bedpost. Shackles replaced the ropes when the slave was left by himself. Yet the treatment remained the same.
The night that Taylen was forced from the party, and locked up, the nobleman who visited him earlier had, like everyone else, heard about what had happened. He wove through the tight crowd in search of the male, but it was too late. All that was left was a pool of wine that spread across the marble tiles, and seeped between the thin cracks. He barely heard the knock on the door to his study as he thought back to the male he’d met that night. The image refused to leave him. The duke had not announced another social event since, and the royal mage did not have the permission to travel out, and visit the duke. The male’s expression bothered him.