No Way Out

And So It Begins

⚠️TW ⚠️ the next few chapters are dark. Please don’t read if you feel uncomfortable.

Presentation was important, and the duke knew to stage his pet in a way that would please the crowd. Not binding him too much like he usually did was part of it. It would be no fun if all the work had been done before them. Taylen's body was now theirs to bruise and manipulate. The instruments he provided them were of the highest quality. The duke grinned. A maid snuck in, delivering to him a bottle of fine wine on a tray with an empty glass. He continued to watch the live entertainment as the rosy liquid cascaded into the delicate glass. The second she was done, the maid excused herself, and slipped back out. Her eyes turned away from the slave strung up for the guests' pleasure.

There were excited murmurs among the crowd, who gazed upon the gift presented to them. As if they'd become hungry wolves, they debated among themselves about who would get the first taste. Of course, if they'd been permitted, they'd have gone much further than just physical punishment. The duke had found himself such a fine toy. Who there, bar Ravus, wouldn't want to indulge themselves in this exquisite offering? One man stepped up, ignoring the rest, and did an exaggerated bow. His golden locks were combed back, and his brilliant sapphire eyes brimmed with a prideful eagerness.

"A generous offer. Then might I take the first round?" The male, in his mid twenties, straightened his posture as he glanced back at the crowd, daring them to object. A Magus born into an esteemed family with gifted magic capabilities. Those there knew his face well. He wasn't nobility exactly, but his family was incredibly wealthy. The man who posed the offer had no objections, and backed away as the blond took position, the cane in his hand ready to strike Taylen's tender skin. The violet mist enveloped the room, and the crack of the whip snapped over the low murmurs. Ravus could only avert his gaze. The cane lashed against Taylen's back, striking against the thin fabric covering his body. The lashes filled the room, causing the noisiest of conversations to cease, and heads to turn to watch. Many were now itching to get their own turn, and Ravus was sickened by their eagerness. He folded his arms, the cloth of his sleeves folding violently under his grip.

The nobleman was out of place in several aspects. Not only was he the only one there to not be enjoying the spectacle, he also appeared to be the only human among the crowd. The only reason he was there, that he was aware of, was due to the prince's lack of interest in such gatherings, and passed the honor to whomever he wanted, which usually meant Ravus. While the Magus appeared human, they were nothing of the sort. They were gifted with the innate ability to use, and control large amounts of magic energy as they pleased. Something Ravus had to train for years to gain proficiency, and control. Being out of place wasn't anything unusual, but the nobleman felt even more so as the rest drooled over the chance to beat the young man to the ground. He glanced over at where the duke remained seated, sipping his wine as his pet was beaten repeatedly. The back of his spread legs received multiple beatings, as well as his rear, and lower back. When the blond male's time was up, he passed the torch to the next man, the well-built man who'd made the first offer. He grinned, picking out a paddle, and groped Taylen's rear before landing the first smack. The paddle came down repeatedly, making the skin beneath slave's pants a bright red. However, the duke wouldn't let the slave become numb to the sensation. No. That would be a disservice to the rest of the guests awaiting their turn. The man yanked the slave's hair back as he continued to spank his rear.

"No need to hold back, let's hear that pretty little voice of yours," the man grinned, landing a particularly strong strike down on the slave.

The next wanted the slave on his back, tying the slave's elbows, which were still above his head, tightly together as far as they would possibly go, and securing the chain holding his wrists to a hook on the ground. He kept the slave's legs spread, tying his ankles to the corners of the platform. One of the cropping whips were lifted from the table, and he towered over the slave. His white gloved hand gripped the whip tightly. The man ground his black leather boot against the slave's most sensitive part, which was already being restricted by tight rope, and began to deliver the swift blows to the slave's chest. Ravus couldn't take this, though he was forced to under the duke's watchful eyes. Each resounding lash filled his ears, and the pain that came with each one. The mist, too, was amplifying that pain. It had only been about an hour, and there were plenty more guests who wished to take part in the entertainment. The nobleman was forced to hear it all, and there was still plenty of time before the party wrapped up. He bit back a silent curse towards the duke. Forcing his defenseless slave to undergo countless sessions of abuse. From the duke's expression, he could tell that the man was enjoying every second of it. For once, he was not the facilitator of his pet's torment, but somehow this was almost equally as enjoyable. His slave's ass was his, but there was no reason he should hog the rest all to himself if this exquisite entertainment was the result. The duke's violet eyes glowed in excitement as he raised the level of pain his slave would feel due to the mist. So long as the collar was strapped tightly around his neck, the duke had no reason to fear killing him.

Once the man's round was up, he stepped back, panting from the excitement, and energy he'd just exerted. He turned to the crowd, giving a light bow, and returned the whip to the table. The crowd began to debate, yet again, who would get to have their fill of torment. They decided on a certain order, a conversation Ravus avoided taking part in. The crowd was too busy thinking about who would go next, and what they would do to the slave once it was their turn to take notice in the nobleman. The session had already gone on much longer than the duke normally took when they were alone together each night, but the slave was not allowed to pass out this time until each guest was satisfied. Until each guest had left a scarring mark on the slave's body, and thanks to the slave's collar, they could torture him for as long as they desired.