DISCLAIMER: Resident Evil is owned by
Capcom Co. Ltd.
All these characters and materials
are used without permission, and I'm
not profiting from this piece of fan fiction.
Dark
Obsessions - Part 2
By firewolf
July 2005
A Devil May
Cry/Resident Evil
4 AU Fic for Lulu; A
possible continuation of
'Dark Obsessions' - Part 1 by Abyss Goat
@>;-'-
I didn't see Dante again. And
I didn't see Remus for awhile.
I can't say that I was not
disappointed that Dante had suddenly
disappeared. When I finally inquired about it, I was told that Dante
had not returned to work since that night. Remus? Well, being who he
was, I would not have been surprised if Remus had indeed killed Dante
and left town.
At the least, someone else
did also think that Dante met with foul
play. The police became involved. And ironically, I was glad for it. A
detective had been dispatched to interview me at my home. Routine
canvassing, I was told, since I was a close friend and frequent visitor
to the last known location of the missing person.
The detective was exquisite;
as young and equally stunning as my last
prey. As he spoke, I focused on his eyes; his expressive, kind eyes. I
felt as if I was drowning in his sea of blue.
I knew I was making him
uncomfortable with my intense regard of him,
but I could not help myself. I made some sad excuse of having a
headache to explain my distraction. He hadn't appeared to be too
pleased with my fragmented sentences, but he nodded at my words and
suggested he return at another time.
Though I was reluctant to see
him leave, I knew I had no excuse to have
him stay longer so I apologised as I showed him to my door. "I'm sorry.
I've been working long hours lately. I'm just very tired."
"Please do call me if you can
think of anything that might help with
the case."
He gave me a smile of
understanding, as he offered me his card, making
my heart skip a beat to be graced by this simple gesture of acceptance.
I was almost too distracted to give my agreement to his request.
He said his good-byes and I
lingered at the front door to watch him
walk toward his sedan to get in and pull away before I retreated into
my house. Only then did I look at the card in my hand, and my heart
felt as if it was about to explode with want when I read the name that
was on it.
"Leon Scott Kennedy," my new
dark obsession.
(The above was mostly written
by Abyss Goat.)
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Over the following week, I
found that I could not focus on very much
except for the memory of the detective's face. Fortunately, I could
easily explain away my preoccupation with the excuse that I was
concerned about Dante's disappearance.
After all, everyone in my
office knew that I had arranged to meet Dante
at my friend's bar. A location that my friend and I categorically
claimed had closed early that day because he was feeling unwell, and
thus had been unavailable for myself to meet with Dante as intended.
In all, circumstantial
evidence alone pointed to my involvement in
sweet Dante's disappearance. A fact that Detective Kennedy was very
aware of as he paid me several visits to talk about my 'relationship'
with Dante and why I could have wished to trick him into meeting me.
Fool that I was, I welcomed
these meetings though I knew the dear man
so wanted me to admit culpability to Dante's disappearance.
Fortunately, I still had enough wits in me to avoid incriminating
myself. And besides, I did so enjoy flustering this young detective
with my attention.
He didn't quite know what to
do with himself when on his last visit I
played the heart broken suitor, finally having worked up the courage to
risk his position in society to ask his intended out, only to be denied
at the eleventh hour by his friend's illness. Ah, Leon was such a kind
man to take my hand and try to offer me comfort as I wailed over
inadvertently putting Dante in harms way with my sly attempt in setting
up a date. That day, I saw with my own eyes that this detective was, in
his way, as innocent as my previous obsession. His kind heart allowed
me to lean against him as I cried my crocodile tears of anguish,
letting me indulge my need to hold his lithe body in my arms.
Ah, if I could have dared to
drag him closer... But I had sense enough
to realise that I was playing with fire as it was; a feeling that was
only verified when Detective Kennedy's superior paid me a visit the
next evening.
Innate in predators like us
is a sense of recognition to identify our
kind, and Captain Albert Wesker saw through me at first glance. I have
never met a colder man. In bearing and behaviour he could not be more
unlike his subordinate if he tried. He had smiled at me then. And I
admit that I had, at that moment, feared for my life.
However, the good Captain
made me a surprising offer. It seemed I had
the good fortune of meeting a cop who was on the take of the local mob.
Or rather, at the time of the offer, I had thought it was good fortune.
The Captain had offered to
have his eager, young detective reassigned
if I were to make discrete contributions to his office. I could have
taken the offer and counted on being left in peace with no questions
asked. Unfortunately, my foolishness responded then. If I was to be
denied my Leon's presence in my life I wanted it on my terms, with
memories I could keep and cherish for months or even years to come.
The Captain had been
surprised, but intrigued by my request. I should
have been warned off then, but when he asked me how many I wished to
see abusing his subordinate, I threw all caution to the wind.
Nine-- ten-- fifteen... it
did not really matter. With Dante, I had
been entertained as promised, however, on later reflection I would
admit to feeling cheated by Remus's exclusive claim to my silver haired
obsession's ass.
Looking into Wesker's eyes, I
knew that he would deliver what he
promised. And if I asked for Detective Kennedy to be gang raped to
death, he would have it arranged so long as I met his price. I could
not have paid him quickly enough.
We were to use my friend's
bar and the empty storage room again. This
time though, I would have no connection to having my prey approach his
trap. This time, a routine request by his Captain to interview the
bar's patrons would send Detective Kennedy into the clutches of his
would be rapists.
In an almost identical replay
of Dante's capture and confinement, the
Detective had entered the bar only to have the door automatically lock
behind him. Ah, but this prey was much more dangerous and streetwise.
He was no fool. He had taken a step backwards when all the men in the
bar turned to look at him. Even through the transmission of the CCTV, I
could see that his danger senses were fairly screaming at him; sending
his hand flying towards his gun. Unfortunately, for dear Leon, Wesker
had briefed the men well, and two of them were ready and in place to
tackle the detective from behind to take his gun away from him.
In hind sight, it was
opportune that I had requested for so many men to
'entertain' Officer Kennedy. He had put up a much harder struggle than
Dante, as it took the combined efforts of six men to subdue him enough
to be carried into the prepared storeroom. Once there, they had thrown
him face down on the rumpled mattress and it took nine men working in
concert to tie him spread-eagled to it with the assistance of staked
rings that Wesker's people had preinstalled for this event.
It was too delicious; from my
vantage point behind the two way mirror
in the adjoining room I was already feeling my cock harden in my hand
to witness Leon's futile struggles against his captors. The
anticipation of watching his impending gang rape was making my head
swim. First though, Leon's clothes would have to be removed.
To my surprise, all the men
started filing out of the room as soon as
the detective was secured and helpless, and I was left wondering what
instructions Wesker had left with his men until I noticed one twirling
his knife as he waited beside the door. When the last extra had exited,
this scarred bruiser had slammed the door shut and locked it behind his
accomplices before approaching the bed where Leon still struggled and
pulled on the ropes that tied him down.
As I watched, he came to sit
on the mattress near enough to Leon's head
that the detective could look up at him. "You always were poking your
nose where more prudent men would back away, comrade."
"Krauser? What the hell, you
already did your time?! What are you doing
getting--"
"--back in the business?
You're so fucking naïve, Kennedy!" As I
watched, the bigger man sank his fingers into Leon's hair and pulled
his head from the mattress. "Did you really think I could have just
walked away from my past so easily? Who did you think was waiting for
me with open arms once I did my time?"
"But--"
"But nothing! You think I'd
thank you for putting me away? Sure you
filed some shit to reduce my time, but what did it matter?"
"I-- waited for you."
"And you got there
twenty-five minutes too late as it turned out."
Krauser said almost too softly for me to catch his words as he released
Leon's hair and allowed him to fall back upon the mattress.
I blinked at the situation.
Was this for real? I couldn't believe what
my ears had strained to hear. A cop and a convict; did they have
feelings for each other? For a moment there, I wondered if I would see
a repeat of what Remus pulled; that this Krauser would fuck Leon, but
not allow his fellow hoods to have him as well.
Thankfully, however, it
appeared that Krauser did not have as great a
status with his comrades as Remus did among his companions. The sound
of tearing cloth roused me from my thoughts to bring my attention back
to the pair of men.
"What the hell?! Krauser!"
"Sorry, baby. But I have to
do this." Scrap by scrap, Krauser was
cutting and removing the detective's clothes. "You got some of our
higher ups riled, Leon. And I don't have enough clout to stop what's
going to happen to you."
"Jack..."
"Wesk-- Hell, you might as
well know-- Wesker thought it would be the
height of tragedy to let me have first go..."
"Capt-- Wesker?!"
"He's been on the take for
over a decade, Leon." Krauser told him
softly as he looked directly at the mirror and me. I have to smile
though I know he cannot see it. The captain was indeed a bastard.
"The hell!" Leon had notice
his look and glared at the mirror,
understanding what the implications were.
"This part of the
conversation isn't going to make the final cut of the
tape."
I would hardly think so. I
asked for a copy of this session, I
seriously doubt that Wesker would allow me to hold anything that might
incriminate him.
"So..." Much to my surprise,
Leon started to relax under Krauser's
hands even as the man tore off the last of his clothes. "How-- many?"
"Twelve. I get first fuck
because you put me away for three years."
"I saw you every three days,
and every holiday."
"Most of them don't know
that."
"Apart from-- Wesker..."
"Yeah..."
Hmmm, it occurred to me then
that Krauser must not know that I was
sitting behind the mirror as well; otherwise he would not have revealed
so much of himself. It was a pity that this was information that I
could hardly have used anyway.
"I'll-- try to make sure you
live, Leon. Beyond that..."
"Get on with it, Jack." Leon
looked up at him sadly. "Saw the bag of--
toys over there... You-- need to put up a good show."
Krauser reached into the bag
I last remembered leaving for Remus to
use, and rummaged around before he pulled out a riding crop. "I'm
sorry..."
"I know."
Now, having witnessed this
tragic little scene of teeth rotting
sweetness, I had thought that what was to follow would be a sham of
acting. That is, until Krauser swung the riding crop and the first weal
marred the detective's hitherto unmarked skin. I may have felt that the
scream Leon released was a bit more than I would have expected of him,
however, there was no mistaking the true pain that was behind his cry.
He was practised; there was
no mistaking Krauser's skill behind
wielding the riding crop. He knew how to inflict pain without leaving
ugly scars on his victims. Within minutes, he had covered the
detective's back, buttocks and upper thighs with long crisscrossing
lines of red and reduced the man to choking sobs of pain. Myself, my
breath was coming in short gasps of need as I watched him ply his trade
and wrench scream after scream of agony from Leon's throat. But I
needed to see more.
As if he heard my silent
plea, Krauser dropped the riding crop and
started to unzip his pants as he crawled between Leon's wide stretched
legs. Only sharp eyes would have noticed he had a tube of lubricant in
his pants and that he palmed a generous dollop of it in the fold of his
hand before he ran his fingers along the crease of Leon's ass.
"You ever had a man in here,
Detective? Bet not. You're nice and tight.
This will be your first time, ain't it?"
"Don't! Please, stop it!"
"Why?" Without further
ceremony, Krauser shoved two well slicked
fingers up Leon's ass drawing a pained gasp from him. "Oooh yeah,
you're gonna be tight and perfect for us, ain't you, copper?"
"Please... No..."
Knowing the reality about the
two men's relationship, I had tried to be
more discerning in listening to them, and true enough I could hear the
passion within the pained gasps Leon made as Krauser discreetly
stretched and prepared him; even as his harsh words belied the
gentleness of his probing fingers.
"If you were a virgin before
this, you ain't gonna be one no more when
me and the boys are through with you."
"Stop! You don't-- know the
penalties--"
"Don't care either, cop. We
just want a piece of ya. If you're good
enough, maybe we'll even keep you as our little fuck toy. How about it?
Yer like the sound of that?"
"No! Please... Please..."
This was good, this was
beyond good. The cop and the convict... It was
a better experience than I thought it would be to see one brutally
abuse the other knowing that both did not want this, and that they had
feelings for each other. Leon's sacrifice for his lover's safety...
Krauser's agony for hurting his better half...
I could imagine Wesker
keeping this tape intact for his own viewing
pleasure to laugh at as they hid their true feelings within this act of
brutal torture and rape. For it was rape for both. Not only for poor
hurting Leon. Krauser clearly did not want to fuck Leon for an audience
anymore than Leon wanted to be taken by his lover in this situation.
But Wesker plainly gave Krauser no choice in this. The man probably had
to decide between being a participant or leaving Leon completely
unprotected and at the tender mercies of his cohorts. Even then, there
is only so much Krauser is able to do to lessen the agony of this
brutal attack.
I had thought that Leon had
already cried himself hoarse, but he still
had one last scream in him when Krauser shoved his cock up his ass.
However, again, if I had not known the reality, I would easily have
thought that his pain was caused by Krauser tearing into his asshole.
But the man had apparently greased and stretched Leon sufficiently. If
Leon was in pain, I would bet that it was more from the beating that
Krauser gave him than from the 'rape'.
This was exquisite. Despite
his distaste, Krauser knew enough to play
it up to the camera and forced Leon to turn his tear ravaged face up at
the mirror. "Watch yourself, Copper. Can you see me sawing in and out
of you, huh? Can you feel me taking you? Plundering depths you've never
allowed anyone to reach, eh?"
"No... Stop it..."
"Are you sure? Your ass
doesn't seem to agree. Hear that? Those wet
sucking sounds of your ass gripping my cock and trying to stop me from
withdrawing? That doesn't sound like reluctance."
"No... Please..."
"Yer gonna get a lot more,
copper. Twelve of us in all. Maybe more if
the boys out there think they'd like to invite a friend or three. Your
ass up to it, huh?"
To see the tears rolling down
Leon's cheeks as he stared blindly at me;
to hear his heaving sobs which are not loud enough to drown out the
obscene sucking sounds of a hard cock plundering a tight, come
lubricated hole; to see that stiff, red and purple veined shaft
spearing a welt lined ass that flinched from every hard slap of
muscular hips against the tortured flesh...
Exquisite...
Krauser's roar of completion
is enough to cover my gasp as I come as
well, splattering my release over the mirror and into the tissue in my
hands. And all I can do as I pump my discharge into the wad is to
imagine that I am Krauser; that I am pumping my seed deep into Leon's
tight ass and coating his bowels with my orgasm.
The stars behind my eyes have
barely cleared when I look up to notice
that Krauser had already come to his feet and cut the ropes that tied
Leon in his vulnerable spread-eagle position. For a moment, I wondered
if Krauser had changed his mind and thought to attempt to remove Leon
from his prison. But that idea was quickly put to rest when he unlocked
the door to let in the men who were patiently waiting and listening
outside the door.
"Shit, man. Leave something
for the rest of us, why don't you?" It is
an appropriate sentiment given how broken Leon appeared to be as he
tried to curl up on the mattress, very mindful of the welts that
crisscross his back, buttocks and thighs.
"You go cool you heels for
three years, and see how you deal with the
one that landed you there." Krauser's sneer only brings laughter and
smirks from his cohorts as they gather around Leon.
As pitiful as Leon appears
now, it is not enough to deter the other
miscreants from having a piece of the cop. And have him they will;
though they show some small bit of mercy in not forcing Leon to lie on
his sore back as they take turns to fuck him.
In contrast to his earlier
struggles, it appeared quite clear that
Krauser had beaten all the fight out of the detective. A fact that the
other men grumble a bit over, but does not stop them from forcing the
man up on hands and knees for them to stuff their cocks in his ass and
mouth.
Still, I feel my erection
coming to life again as I witness Leon's
rapists' plunging into him from either end; watching as callused hands
grip pale hips hard enough to leave flowering bruises in their wake as
they pull Leon's body hard against theirs; seeing strong hips slamming
against quivering, welt-striped buttocks; hearing Leon's choked moans
of pain muffled around the rigid cock occupying his succulent mouth.
I came again in unison with
Leon's first pair of rapists; splattering
my seed on the mirror separating us again. Yes... This is what I missed
when Remus denied his accomplices and claimed Dante's ass for his
exclusive use. I watch the laughing men trade off their places through
satisfied, hazy eyes; discarding and reaching for another tissue as
Leon is repositioned and impaled on the cocks of another pair of
assailants.
I had not realised it at
first, but as I watched stiff cock after stiff
cock spearing into Leon's unresisting and almost comatose body, I
suddenly see the method in Krauser's artful manner. With his earlier
brutality, Krauser had effectively rendered his lover near senseless to
the assault of the other eleven men. What more, from the lack of blood,
it is quite obvious that Krauser had stretched and lubricated Leon
enough that his other rapists would not damage him how ever eager they
may be when they take their turn at fucking him. And Krauser managed to
do all this for his lover, while maintaining an air of cruelty and
indifference to one he would have otherwise professed to care for.
What a clever man...
As delightful as it was to
see Leon so thoroughly used and abused by
his rapists, through his actions Krauser had effectively negated the
enjoyment and entertainment I had hoped to observe had Leon been aware
enough to offer active resistance in the gang rape. Near insensible
from pain and shock, Leon barely reacts to the other rapists, passively
taking eager cock after cock in his ass and mouth; not caring whether
his assailant is pumping his tribute down his throat or over his face
and hair; not caring that he is entertaining a seemingly endless train
of men slamming rigid cocks into his reddening, semen dripping ass.
The fucking quickly gets
monotonous as the detective's rapists seem
only to care about getting their jollies with him and not for his
participation. So I leave, with just a stray thought to wonder if
indeed Krauser would succeed in preserving Leon's life.
In truth, I would not be
surprised if Leon were to die despite
Krauser's efforts. As cunning as the man was to use pain to shield his
lover's mind from the trauma of sexual assault, the shock that Leon was
suffering from the beating could well kill him when heaped with the
added stress the gang rape would put on his body. But that scenario
fitted me well; with the detective's death, which would have no
connection to me, attention would turn appropriately away from me and
my unfortunate memo to Dante.
I will admit that I was
surprised to have Wesker visit me the evening
after Leon's gang rape; taken aback even, to have the man offer me a
picture. In hind sight, I should not have reached for it, nor should I
have reverently run my fingers over the images that stared back at me.
But I could not help myself.
Both my obsessions were
captured in a single picture. Poor, sweet,
frightened Dante, nude and pale as he leans against the wall of his
dark cell, and lying cradled in his arms an equally pale though clearly
unconscious Leon; nude as well, his skin still bearing the angry red
welts that crisscross his entire back down to his upper thighs.
Exquisite...
Reluctantly, I handed the
picture back to Wesker, only to feel the
alarm bells sounding in me when I saw him carefully take the picture by
its edge with his gloved hand to slide it into a clear plastic zip lock
bag. He handed me two tapes next. One which I had expected and intended
to keep in my safe, alongside Dante's tape, to be brought out on
special occasions for my private viewing pleasure; the second, I at
first could not recognise. Or perhaps I had rather not believed the
situation presented to me.
True enough, the tape was
monumentally incriminating. It showed me
clearly masturbating as I watched and listened to Detective Kennedy
being brutally tortured and gang raped. Should anyone in law
enforcement be given this tape, it is doubtful that I would be accorded
any mercy.
As I sat and stared at the
image of myself on the screen, Wesker told
me what he expected of me from now on. He further assured me that a
copy of the tape and the picture, which now has my fingerprints all
over it, would find appropriate hands if I offered even a hint of
rebellion.
Reminded of the picture he
had shown me, I had to ask after the two
men. "They are far too young and beautiful to kill. Perhaps if you are
especially good, I will invite you to see how they're doing." He left
me with that parting shot. And though I cursed the fates that made me
allow myself to be so entrapped, a part of me rejoices to know that my
two objects of obsession are still alive.
Alive and together... Wesker
may have had me by my balls, but I didn't
find myself too pained by the fact, not with his dangled prize of
obedience before me.
I had shut off my
incriminating tape and leaned back in my seat to
stroke myself as I recalled the image of sweet Dante clinging to the
unconscious Leon. My two objects of obsession vulnerable and among
predators... And I began to imagine how they might be jointly used for
entertainment, perhaps even forced to make love to each other before
they are given over to appease the needs and lusts of others. Perhaps
in the future, I imagined that I could actually be a participant
instead of just a voyeur.
So intent was I in my
daydream, I completely missed hearing the door to
my entertainment room opening. The newcomer was, however, quick to make
his presence known. It was most unpleasant to suddenly find myself
jerked up by my collar and nose to nose with a scarred man.
Krauser...
"Wesker doesn't know I'm
here, comrade. And I believe I owe you for
what I had to do to my lover."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Epilogue
Captain Albert Wesker growled
to himself in frustration as he signed
off on the assessment of suicide and closed the file that had landed on
his desk that day. He hadn't misread a man in a long while and he was
feeling decidedly unsatisfied with the brouhaha that surrounded
Detective Kennedy's disappearance.
Wesker never considered that
the pervert would commit suicide rather
than accede to his demands. He was in fact quite sure that the man was
willing to toe the line, if not for his career, then for the off chance
that Wesker would take him to the private club where the missing Dante
Sparda and Detective Leon S. Kennedy were currently imprisoned for the
pleasures of certain members with exclusive privileges.
Wesker had been so sure that
he had seen the gleam of interest in the
man's eyes when he had offered to show him what activities the two men
would be engaged in. To later find out that the man had committed
suicide, by swallowing bleach, no less; was a shock.
Furthermore, the pervert had
even dialled the police hot line and
placed the phone near the TV to allow the dispatcher to hear Kennedy's
screams of agony as he played the incriminating video, immediately
prompting the officer in charge to send out squad cars to the address
of the traced line. This reminded Wesker that he would need to arrange
for the young officer to see a counsellor. She had grimly hung on to
the line, trying to talk to and get the attention of the man on the
other side, not knowing that she had been listening to a video of an
event which had taken place the day before.
Even as he mused over the
closed file, Wesker could not help but think
that it was really a murder; that the deed was an act of revenge for
what was done to Detective Kennedy, and that he needed to be on his
guard in case the murderer tried to strike at him. Suicide by drinking
bleach was a horrible, agonizing way to die and Wesker could not
imagine the comfort loving man choosing a method which would guarantee
that he'd take hours to die after the caustic fluid burned and ate away
his throat and stomach.
Faced, on their arrival, by
the video of the man masturbating while he
watched Detective Kennedy's torture and rape, Wesker had little doubt
that the attending police officers had not hurried to arrange for an
ambulance for the dying man. In any case, death was perhaps more
merciful than a life hooked up to machines when ones' throat and
stomach were completely destroyed by the bleach.
If this was indeed a murder,
it was plain to Wesker that Krauser was
high on the suspect list, given his true feelings for Detective
Kennedy. Krauser was, surprisingly, the one man who escaped
identification when the labs were done with the tapes too.
Until he heard his detectives
grumble over not being able to get an ID
on the 'bastard' who had beaten up and had first go with Kennedy,
Wesker had not realised that Krauser had carefully avoided allowing the
camera to get a good shot of his face. Indeed when he reviewed the
original tape in the privacy of his home, Wesker had to admit to being
impressed by the man's cleverness and skill in keeping his back to the
camera and face hidden in the shadow of his beret or the collar of his
up turned jacket. It made Wesker rethink his earlier assessment of the
man as a shallow hood, useful only for handling brute work.
Looking at the file on his
table again, Wesker sighed as he picked it
up and dumped it on his out tray to be filed and archived. Even if he
suspected it to be a murder, no one would take it up and he couldn't
see himself forcefully assigning it to anyone in his department either.
Kennedy was a popular, young, up and coming detective, and as one the
whole precinct had been incensed to find out how he had suffered and
who had been the cause.
Wesker well knew that his
precinct was on a witch-hunt for the rapists,
but there was little that could be done to head it off. Sentiment was
high among the men and women at the station and it had not surprised
Wesker in the slightest that the tape which focused on Kennedy's
torture and gang rape had been 'conveniently' lost. Wesker did not
doubt that it would somehow find its way into the incinerator once
screen captures were made of all the rapists.
Even though Detective Chris
Redfield was picking up the case, together
with the file on the still missing Dante Sparda, for the moment, Wesker
knew that he was safe. There was very little chance that Kennedy's
disappearance would be traced back to him. The bar owner had no idea at
all of his involvement since the voyeur handled all contact. And the
men Wesker used were mob trained; even if Redfield somehow tracked down
one of Kennedy's rapists, they would never talk. However, there was
still one troublesome loose end.
Prudence dictated that Wesker
arrange for Kennedy's demise on the off
chance that the man somehow managed to escape and lived to finger him
as the mastermind behind his abduction and rape. And given Redfield's
unorthodox manner and record as one of the best detectives on the
force, Wesker did not want to take a risk that he would, against
incredible odds, manage to locate Kennedy.
Unfortunately, Wesker was to
find himself thwarted again when he
visited the club that evening to look in on the establishment's newest
toys. Wesker could not say that he was surprised to see Krauser
standing on guard while Osmund Saddler leaned back to enjoy the
attentions of the two recent acquisitions. However, it did shock him to
see Kennedy side by side with Sparda and enthusiastically licking the
Mafia Don's cock like a kitten enjoying a creamy treat.
Krauser's polite cough
quickly brought Saddler's attention to his
presence and Wesker had to admit to feeling a touch of apprehension to
have this high ranking man focus on him. Saddler reached to gently run
his fingers through Kennedy's hair before tightening his grip and
pulling the nude man up to be draped over his reclining body. If Wesker
was surprised before, nothing described his shock to witness his former
subordinate nuzzle against the Don like an affectionate kitten.
"I commend you for this
generous gift, Albert." Saddler smiled fondly
at his new pet. "Indeed, had I known you had such a pretty little thing
under your command, I would have asked you to bring him here sooner."
The words dashed all hope
Wesker had of eliminating his last
vulnerability in this case. What more, Kennedy had locked eyes with him
for just a split second; enough for Wesker to know that the man was
aware and playing a dangerous game of survival on enemy ground. And
there had been a promise in that look as well; one that said that the
detective would bring him down for the betrayal to their cause and
creed.
"Was there something you
wished to see me about, Albert?" Saddler asked
him patiently as he shifted Kennedy so that the man would straddle his
lap, while he stroked his fingers through the silver hair of his other
attendant. "Be a dear and prepare us, pet."
Wesker did not miss Krauser's
smirk as he flushed and turned away from
watching Sparda take Saddler's cock in his mouth while simultaneously
pushing a pair of fingers up Kennedy's ass to stretch him in
preparation to being fucked.
"No, sir. I just came by to
see how well Detective Kennedy was fitting
in."
Saddler laughed softly as he
carefully ran light fingers over the still
red welts that the man carried on his body, making Kennedy squirm and
mewl with pain. "I believe Krauser has already introduced him to the
penalties of disobedience."
"And you would trust Krauser
with your pet?" Wesker glared meaningfully
at the scarred man; still very much miffed with him for scuttling his
plans with the voyeur.
"But of course." Saddler
smiled at him as he shifted Kennedy's hips to
slowly impale his moaning pet on his saliva slicked cock. "I would
trust a man who knows that his lover will pay for his faults and
failures; as much as I will trust a pet whose lover will be tasked to
punish him for any disobedience."
Today seemed to be a day of
surprises for Wesker as understanding
dawned on him as to the reasons behind Kennedy's utmost subservience to
the Mafia Don less than two days after his arrival. "Indeed, Albert,"
Saddler smirked at him. "There is still much you need to learn about
handling individuals and enforcing obedience.
"Now leave us. I wish not to
have an audience today."
As Wesker turned to go, he
saw Krauser being gestured to lift Sparda
onto Saddler's lap as well. But that was apparently to allow the silver
haired man to suck on Kennedy's cock as the detective was bounced up
and down the Don's rigid shaft. At the same time, Krauser had also
released his cock from the confinement of his pants to sink it into
Sparda's ass, while his hand cupped the back of Kennedy's head to pull
him into a kiss.
Wesker shook his head as he
walked away to look for his own
entertainment. Regrettably, while Saddler would probably welcome his
participation, Krauser and Kennedy would not and he had a sense that
the two men had taken Sparda under their wing too; in as much as they
were able to protect him while being prisoners themselves.
Contrary to his earlier
assessment that Saddler had adopted two pets,
Wesker could apparently count Krauser as one as well. However, Wesker
was not about to let the Don interfere in the challenge that Krauser
and Kennedy had thrown him. He could hardly be able to maintain his
standing in the underworld hierarchy if he did not get back at Krauser
in some way for scuttling his plans and protecting a man who could
destroy his career should he escape. But Wesker had to tread carefully.
He was in no position to challenge Saddler. But perhaps he could
recruit an ally elsewhere...
It was at this moment that
Wesker spotted a scowling Remus sitting at
the bar. Recalling the gossip which herald the punk's entrance and
acceptance into the club a few days earlier, Wesker could well guess
the reasons behind the man's displeasure. But Remus would not be the
first nor the last to try and bring in a toy to gain some favour at the
club only to have it appropriated by one of the Dons. Wesker could
commiserate with him.
"I saw your former toy."
Remus glared at him for the
reminder. "Wasn't meant for him."
Wesker raised an interested
eyebrow at the man, encouraging him to
continue. Remus eyed him for a moment before he snarled out a name.
"Mundus..."
"Ahh, and his successor,
Vergil Sparda." Wesker breathed in sudden
understanding. "Clever, Remus."
Indeed it was. Wesker could
certainly see Mundus's prodigy taking an
interest in a silver-haired Sparda who looked quite like him. "But
weren't you worried that the Nelo Angelo might take offence to finding
you fucking his virtual twin? He has not had to depend on his Don for
influence and power for some years now, and he is not a man to anger."
Remus lifted a corner of his
lip to smile at him. "Oh, I don't think he
would have taken action so directly. Thought I'd be well compensated to
make sure this Sparda would be treated well. And I was making progress
in training the little morsel, but still managing to keep others away
from him."
"Until Saddler saw him, that
is."
The scowl occupied Remus's
face again at the memory of the Don's
actions, and Wesker lapsed into his own silence to think of all the
implications behind Saddler's claim of Dante Sparda. It was without
doubt that the Don's action was an indirect jab at his rival Don's
successor. And many would see it as such for as long as Saddler kept
Dante Sparda and used him as a toy to be fucked and lent out at his
whim.
Wesker took a sip of his
whiskey as he sat back and mused over the
events of the last few days. If indeed Saddler was gearing up for a
confrontation with the Nelo Angelo, the future was going to be very
interesting. And Wesker was determined to use the tension in some way
to get at Krauser and Kennedy. Wesker did wonder what their eventual
plans were though; as he could hardly see Krauser as one who would
willingly have his lover spend the rest of his life being Saddler's toy
and a plaything of the Mafia.
As a captured law enforcement
officer, it was a virtual guarantee that
the detective's stay at the club would not be easy. And Saddler had a
reputation for kink even among the elite of Los Illuminados. Wesker
didn't doubt that, just as he did with his previous toys, the Don would
soon be arranging displays and parties with his new acquisitions.
Wesker allowed a smile to
pull on his lips as he thought of one of
Saddler's favourite amusements of holding an auction for a couple of
hours of his slave's time in front of an audience. A young detective
and a man who could be cast in the image of a Don-to-be... The bidding
would undoubtedly be heated for this pair of toys.
If there was no other way to
get at Krauser and Kennedy, Wesker
resolved to win one of those auctions. Or perhaps he could persuade
Saddler that it would offer a good show to have the mob's resident
corrupt cop abusing the enslaved cop and former subordinate. At the
least, he would have the pleasure of fucking Kennedy right in front of
his lover. Besides, Wesker had wanted a turn or two with Kennedy ever
since the young man joined the force, and had intended to have that at
last when he arranged to have the young detective brought to the club.
In hind sight, Wesker knew he
should have scratched his itch by fucking
Kennedy's unconscious body and arranging to dispose of him immediately
after Krauser and his crew had been done with their gang bang party.
But he had been greedy to have more fodder to use with the voyeur. And
had the tape of Kennedy's gang rape been more entertaining, instead of
having a group of men passing around a limp and unresponsive victim,
Wesker wouldn't have felt so unsatisfied to a point where he personally
wanted to have Kennedy conscious and snarling under him as he
forcefully took his pleasure of the younger man.
Soon... Wesker knew that he
would have his indulgence soon enough.
Saddler's games had only just begun. And life at the club as they knew
it was going to get interesting when word of Don Saddler's new fuck
toys finally got around to reaching the Nelo Angelo's ears. Perhaps
then, Don Mundus's heir would finally accept rank among the club's Los
Illuminados and appear there more often too, instead of turning his
nose up at their private pleasures. He certainly missed out noticing
Dante Sparda first because he wasn't there.
Yes, the future was going to
be interesting.
~Owari~
Thanks for
reading.
Back
to firewolf's Mature Fiction