Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1010674.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Trinity_Blood
  Relationship:
      Isaak_von_Kampfer/Dietrich_von_Lohengrin, Dietrich_von_Lohengrin/_Cain
      Knightlord/_Isaak_von_Kampfer, Dietrich_von_Lohengrin/OMC
  Character:
      Isaak_Fernand_von_Kampfer, Dietrich_von_Lohengrin, Cain_Knightlord
  Additional Tags:
      Rape/Non-con_Elements, Underage_Sex, Child_Abuse, Heavy_BDSM, Dubious
      therapy_methods, Not_Canon_Compliant, Spanking, Blood_and_Gore,
      Prostitution, Sexual_Slavery, Extremely_Dubious_Consent, Mind_Rape,
      Necrophilia, Medical_Experimentation, Anal_Sex, Oral_Sex, Object
      Insertion, Forced_Crossdressing
  Series:
      Part 6 of Orden_Tales
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-10-20 Chapters: 7/7 Words: 10484
****** 7 Nights ******
by Umeko
Summary
     Isaak explores the Dietrich’s issues with the aid of hypnotic drugs
     and therapy, forcing him to relive his most painful memories. Dubious
     consent on Dietrich’s part and unethical medical practices on Isaak’s
     part. Doctor-patient boundaries will be disrespected. We learn Isaak
     is a manipulative sadist. Pure smutiness.
Notes
     Disclaimer: Trinity Blood and its characters DO NOT belong to me.
     Strictly speaking, I am not sure whether my characters can even be
     considered canon. For the sake of this fic, liberties have been taken
     with Dietrich's back story.
***** The First Night *****
Chapter Summary
     Dietrich has Daddy issues which Isaak is keen to explore whether
     Dietrich wants it or not.
“Isaak… What was in that wine?” Dietrich moaned. They had been lovers for a
while, if their rough coupling and mutual humiliation of each other was
anything that remotely resembled love. He should have expected this from Isaak.
It was unlike Isaak to be so solicitous. The Magus only shushed him and gently
laid the Terran on the bed, propping him up against the soft pillows. Dietrich
mumbled some half-hearted curses as a gloved hand ran through his hair.
Normally, Dietrich would tease and taunt his lover to breaking point, until
Isaak threw him across the table and took him with a violence bordering on
rape. Isaak could be creative in inflicting the pain the teen so needed for his
own release.
The Terran could not understand how they had lasted so long together. Perhaps
it was simply because Dietrich’s powers were too weak to seriously harm the
Magus. No, it was never about love. They both had other lovers. Isaak mingled
easily with those silly Methuselah women. He also patronised those Terran
courtesans who often ended up in his bed, only to be found drained dry in the
morning. Dietrich had no qualms about sleeping with his other colleagues in the
Orden or even the random stranger. However, he always returned to Isaak’s
abuse. Isaak had drained him to the point of unconsciousness but never death,
and he allowed it, just as he allowed Isaak to mark him with his whip, blade
and lit cigars.   
Last week, Isaak had been exceptionally brutal, tearing him apart inside and
out, slamming him against the headboard until his teeth rattled. Though a red
haze of pain he had cried out incoherently. “Daddy! Please, Daddy, stop!” It
was a mistake which enraged Isaak.
Isaak growled and choked Dietrich hard enough for him to pass out. There was
something in the boy’s voice which irked him greatly. Dietrich awoke naked,
bruised and bleeding in the corridor outside Isaak’s apartment. His clothes
were neatly folded beside him. Isaak studiously refused to be seduced
afterwards until he extended that invitation to dinner which his lover readily
accepted. Dietrich’s sessions with Radu were never satisfying. The Imperial
noble was a considerate lover but that was not what Dietrich desired.
“Nothing too serious, just a draught which will weaken your resistance,” Isaak
purred and licked Dietrich’s ear. The boy mewled weakly at the familiar
sensation. “Oh, you will find yourself weak-limbed, greatly amendable to my
suggestions…” With a pocket knife, he traced Dietrich’s jaw before dipping low
to flick off his collar button. Dietrich grinned. This was not unusual. Isaak
had drugged him before for their sessions. All he needed was to lie back and
let Isaak use him as he pleased.
“Today, you will talk, tell me about everything…”
“Like how I have been sucking Radu off?” Isaak would make him talk about what
he did with his other lovers as he shagged him into the mattress. Dietrich
would sometimes volunteer information on his sexual escapades just to make
Isaak jealous.
“No, before you joined the Orden…” The light in Dietrich’s eyes hardened.
“Go fuck yourself…” he hissed. Isaak smiled. He had hit a nerve. Dietrich’s
belts were unbuckled now by Isaak’s deft hands. His coat and shirt lay open to
expose his chest. Slim pale fingers stroked his skin and pinched his nipples.
Dietrich gasped. Then the hand dived down and caressed his manhood through the
rough cloth of his trousers.
“Tell me, my puppet. Did your daddy touch you like this?”
“I said go fuck yourself,” Dietrich gasped even as he arched into Isaak’s hand.
Isaak gave the Terran’s balls a squeeze before releasing them.
“Pity you choose to be a difficult patient…” Dietrich felt the pinprick of a
needle in his arm, followed by uncanny warmth in his veins. He moaned. His lips
parted. When his eyes opened, the pupils were unfocused. The drug was taken
effect to Isaak’s delight.
“Now, Dietrich, here is the game we will play tonight. You will share every
sordid detail of your life which you have kept hidden from me. I will unmask
you entirely and lay you bare to the bones.”
“Please, no… I can’t…” The fear and panic in Dietrich’s voice was all too real.
There was none of the cockiness which was Dietrich von Lohengrin. His eyes were
wide and dark, fixating on some terror only visible to him.
Still fully clothed, Isaak laid down on the sheets beside Dietrich and stroked
his hair. Dietrich whimpered. “Tell me everything… did your daddy screw you?
Were you Daddy’s good little bed toy?” Under his breath he muttered the arcane
spell which would allow him to peer inside Dietrich’s memory now that his
defences were down.
“Ja, my father touched me… he made me suck him off and raped me on my fourth
birthday…” The words were choked and so soft, like those of a little boy.
He was scared, so scared. Father had been drinking and now he was coming. He
wanted so much to be a good boy. At first he did not understand why Father made
him promise not to tell anyone. It was nice how Father told him he was a good
boy and so pretty as he stroked his brown hair. When they were alone in the
woodshed, Father would take off all Dietrich’s clothes and touch him all over,
even down there. It made Father happy and he wanted Father to be happy.  Father
made him kneel down and undo his belt. The little boy was surprised when
confronted with the size of Father but he did as Father said and took the tip
into his little mouth. It was so wide and long he had to hold the rest of the
length with his tiny hands. It was painful when Father tried to make him take
the entire thing inside his throat and it tasted bad. When he told Mother,
Mother spanked him and called him a liar. Then Father spanked him again for
daring to tell Mother.   
The little boy closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep. The bed creaked as
Father climbed into it, pressing down on him. Trembling, the boy tried to think
of the cake Mother had baked specially for him. “Happy birthday, my little
angel.” A rough hand yanked up his nightshirt. The pain was immense. It felt
like he was being torn apart. He had screamed loud and long. Father had cursed
him, slapped him hard before forcing his face into the pillow. His screams and
tears were swallowed by the pillow as his father sodomized him. The bedclothes
were stained with his blood.
Dietrich’s brow was damp with sweat as he relived the horror. His hands fisted
weakly in the silken sheets. Isaak’s hands continued his ministrations on the
teen’s shivering body. The boots, socks and trousers were gone now, leaving
Dietrich bare from the waist down.
“Did Father spank you, like this?” Isaak lightly slapped the exposed buttocks.
“Nein, over his knee…” Isaak sat down on the edge of the bed and manoeuvred the
Terran’s limp body into the correct position over his lap. “Do continue. What
happened to you afterwards?”
Dietrich winced at the sting of the slaps administered. The drug did not dim
the sensation of pain. Haltingly, he continued his narration.
“The next morning, Mother came to wake me and saw the sheets. She knew but she
did not stop him. Father kept coming to me at night, about once a week to let
me heal a little before he took me again. He still had me suck him off in the
woodshed… She never did anything up to the day she hung herself in the
kitchen.”
“The truth, Dietrich…” Isaak warned. “I want all of it. You belong to me,
Dietrich… I know you are holding back. Let it all out.” Dietrich’s ass was a
rosy red now from the repeated blows. The teen moaned and squirmed in his lap
as the memories came back.
The little boy shuffled uncomfortably into the kitchen. His ass hurt. He wiped
his mouth of the semen from his father. His mother was there. She no longer
looked at him. When she did, it was with disgust. She never came even though he
screamed and begged Father to stop hurting him. He hated her.
“I killed my mother, using the wires. First person I killed. Hung her up by the
neck like a goose.”
“Very good, Dietrich. What did you do to your dearest Dad?” Unclad now, Isaak
laid Dietrich back on the pillows and spread his thighs wide. His clothes were
carefully folded and placed on a chair. The scented oil was already in his
hands. He methodically removed his gloves and proceeded to stretch that tight
passage. Blood was hell to remove from the sheets. Dietrich’s eyelids
fluttered.
“Father- I killed him too. The next time he came to me after the funeral. He
sat me on top of his cock. I tore off his head with the wires as he fucked me.
There was blood all over me. Ah!” Dietrich cried out hoarsely as he was pulled
up into Isaak’s lap and impaled upon his throbbing shaft. 
The little boy giggled and wept as he rode the still-convulsing body of his
rapist. There was blood everywhere, staining his bare skin and the sheets under
them. Father was huge and there was so much blood, washing out the blood he had
wrung from the violated body of his flesh and blood. Wild with glee, he bounced
up and down, impaling himself and savouring the slapping of his thighs and ass
against the dead meat. It still hurt. He was a good boy, wasn’t he? Daddy’s
precious little angel. He dared not stop until the warmth had left Father’s
body.
“Hm, that explains your necrophilic tendencies…” Isaak chuckled as a still-
drugged Dietrich clumsily rode him to completion. He had witnessed Dietrich
riding one of his reanimated corpses on several occasions when the Terran
thought himself unobserved. Without Isaak’s hand on him, he came hard over
Isaak’s taut belly. With a dull huff, Isaak spurted into his lover’s convulsing
passage. Spent, Dietrich slumped against his lover. With a sated sigh, Isaak
laid the teen back upon the sheets. This was a promising start to what he had
in mind.
“Very good. We will continue another night…” 
***** The Second Night *****
Chapter Summary
     Exploration of more childhood trauma issues with the aid of torture
     devices and blasphemous use of prayer.
The rain pattered against the glass of the windows. Isaak admired the pale skin
of his young lover as he lounged on his bed. After the very satisfying
exploration of Dietrich’s Daddy issues, he was ready to probe further into the
teen’s past. Dietrich was guarded about accepting his wine now, but the boy had
a fondness for sweets and a box of chocolates left carelessly on his bedside
table proved too much temptation. Dietrich’s room was spartan compared to his
own. Of course the boy had no appreciation of the fine furnishings Isaak filled
his apartment with. He must have taken a few of the doctored pralines. Limbs
spread-eagled, he now drowsed lightly in his Orden uniform, boots and all.
Isaak chuckled. Dietrich might have locked his door but it was no match for the
magus’ shadows. Isaak normally preferred to conduct his pleasures in his well-
equipped bedroom or the study, never in Dietrich’s humble garret. Tonight would
be an exception. He flicked his raven tresses over his shoulder. Time for the
fun to start.
“Dietrich…” he whispered and pinched Dietrich’s arm, digging in his long nails.
Dietrich’s eyes fluttered open and a frown creased his features.
“Fuck off, Isaak. Not tonight.”
“Oh, I beg to differ. We had a satisfying session last night… I did heal you
afterwards…”
“Screw you, Isaak. You have no business poking into my mind…” Dietrich weakly
tried to breach the mage’s powerful mental shields to no avail. The drugs were
affecting him too much.
“Now, now… that is no way to speak to me, boy.” Isaak pulled out an odd-looking
device. “Behold, this little toy was created by the Inquisition. The pear of
agony. You have a choice- Talk or I will put this into your mouth and open it
to keep you from screaming.” Dietrich watched in fascination as Isaak twisted a
small dial and the pear opened like a metal flower. Isaak put down the
instrument and took out another similar pear. “This one, I will stick it up
your ass and open it.” Dietrich’s eyes widened in horror as this pear opened to
reveal cruel inch-long pikes lining its petals. “Oh, and I will fuck you with
it until your sweet ass is quite ruined.”
“Isaak, you wouldn’t…” Dietrich’s eyes darted fearfully from his mentor to the
instrument of torture. The prospect of being literally raped to death did not
appeal to him.  
“Tell me,” Isaak pretended not to hear the brown-haired boy’s words. “What
happened after you did your dear Mama and Papa in?” 
Dietrich closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. He could feel Isaak’s
skilled hands on him, playing him expertly through his clothes. Tantalising
touches like the wings of a butterfly. 
“I-I was about six… There was a small orphanage run by an old priest… We lived
in his house, until homes can be found for us. There were a few of us.”
He was a special little boy, the old man said as he covered the boy’s neck with
slobbering kisses. For the first time, he felt treasured. The priest would call
him to the sacristy alone to show him the beautiful pictures in the books.
While he was admiring the colours, gnarled hands would card through his hair,
followed by the caresses and kisses on his nape. It felt good but wrong
somehow. He was given his own bedroom beside the priest’s while the others had
to share the large bed in the other one. He was also spared the chores the
others had to do. At night the priest would make sure he said his prayers.
At first he was fearful that the priest would make him suck him off, or hurt
him like his father did. The kisses were disgusting but he could tolerate them,
like the way he put up with the bulge in the man’s cassock when he sat on his
lap to look at the pretty books. He tried to focus on the pictures in the book
as something hard and hot rubbed against his ass. Books were rare in their
village, more so illustrated books. It was more difficult at bedtime when the
man would grunt leaning behind him and touch him under his nightshirt as he
struggled to say the words of prayer he had long lost faith in. Sometimes he
would find his nightshirt or the seat of his trousers damp and sticky after the
priest was finished rubbing against him.
“You always did like books, Dietrich…” Isaak kissed his lips. The youth arched
into it eagerly. How different were his lover’s kisses compared to that
slobbering old priest.  
“Isaak, please…” Dietrich moaned and squirmed.
“What happened next, Di?”
He was no longer the priest’s golden boy. Another orphan came into the
household. A cherub with golden curls. The former favourite was unceremoniously
evicted from his room and into the large bed shared by six other lads. The
other lads were cruel. They teased him and called him a whore. At night they
would pinch him and hump against his ass. The eldest boy, a large twelve-year-
old whose foul temper had precluded all attempts to apprentice him out, had
attacked him one night amidst the cheers of the others. He could almost taste
the dusty sheet they had gagged him with and the crushing bulk of his tormentor
pinning him down. He was so sore the next morning he could barely walk but the
old man ordered him to scrub the kitchen floor without a second glance.
Later he would peer into the sacristy and see the disgusting man hugging and
kissing the golden-haired boy in his lap as the child tried to look at one of
Dietrich’s favourite picture books. 
“Poor, poor Dietrich. It’s no fun being Cinderella, isn’t it? Maybe you can
polish my boots…” Isaak teased and kissed the tears emerging from Dietrich’s
eyes. “Now, what happened next, Dietrich?”
“I-I used my wires again. This time I made the old man kill his new toy. Stab
him with a crucifix. The blood quite ruined the books. Afterwards…”
The cherub was dead, sprawled in a pool of red. The priest was ashen and
disbelieving as he stared at the bloodied crucifix in his hands. Unseen, a
brown-haired boy limped out into the churchyard where the other orphans were
playing...
The villagers were greeted by a scene of horror when they came for the morning
mass. The priest was quite mad and covered with blood, laughing and moaning in
the church. The children under his care were found dismembered. Their remains
scattered over the church grounds. No one would be sure how many there were. 
“Ah, the Hesseholm Church Massacre. The Vatican tried unsuccessfully to cover
it up…” Isaak murmured softly as he undid Dietrich’s tie and collar to reward
him with nips and kisses to his collarbone. The youth thrashed weakly.
“Now, it’s time to say your bedtime prayers, Di…” Isaak withdrew.
“I don’t…”
“Prayers now…” The drug was wearing off enough for Dietrich to weakly sit up.
Isaak held up the glistening pear of agony. “You are mine, and you will obey
me.” The threat was clear.
Dietrich slid off his cot and knelt facing it. He braced his elbows on the
mattress and laced his fingers in an attitude of prayer. Isaak nodded. “I want
to hear the words, Di. All of it.”
“Our Father in Heaven…” the brown-haired boy closed his eyes and struggled to
recall words of prayer he had long abandoned. Isaak leaned close, resting his
chin on his shoulder. He would feel his long hair tickling his shoulder and
back.
“Louder,” Isaak’s breath whispered in his ear.
“Hallowed be thy name… T-thy kingdom…” Dietrich rattled on. Isaak was palming
his crotch through his pants expertly and rubbing up against his ass.
Dietrich’s pants felt too tight. The creep was intent on torturing him. Nimble
fingers unbuckled his belt…
“Thy kingdom c-come… Thy will be… Isaak! Oh God!” Dietrich shrieked out loud as
his pants were roughly tugged to his knees. Isaak’s gloved hands were torturing
his sensitive balls and cock. The friction of Isaak’s pants and the hard bulge
within it against his bare ass was maddeningly distracting.
“Continue,” Isaak demanded. Icy tendrils of shadow pinioned his still clasped
hands to the bed. More shadows chained his ankles to the floorboards.
“Thy will be done… on earth as it is in heaven… Give us today… O-our daily
bread…” Dietrich gasped and stumbled through the words as the sweet torment
continued with nips and kisses to his earlobe and nape. He could not control a
groan of disappointment as Isaak’s hands left him.
“Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who sin- Ah!” Something cold and hard,
well-lubed at least, was steadily and slowly pushed into his ass. It must be
the pear.
“I didn’t say you can stop…” Dietrich squirmed helplessly as the thing inside
him grew in size. Isaak must be turning the dial. Dietrich shuddered at the
thoughts of the spikes digging into his flesh. 
“T-those who sin against us! Do not bring us to the test and deliver… Please,
Isaak, no more!” Dietrich sobbed. The thing inside him was growing larger,
stretching him. It hurt so bad the tears came uncontrollably.
Isaak only huffed and twisted the dial even more. The youth screamed. He could
feel blood oozing down his thighs.“De-deliver us from temptation!”Dietrich
gasped. He was rewarded by the pear contracting slightly. “For the kingdom, the
power and the glory are Yours now and forever!” he blurted out the last lines
of the prayer.
Isaak shoved Dietrich’s face roughly into the mattress. “No, the power is mine,
Dietrich. You are mine…” He twisted the dial so that pear contracted to its
unopened size before proceeding to ruthlessly fuck Dietrich with it. The youth
screamed into his mattress as his prostrate was relentlessly pummelled, until
he reached his climax. Pain and pleasure entangled in a heady mix.
“Isaak!” Dietrich shrieked as his body spasmed. Oblivion claimed him.
Isaak eased the instrument out of the limp body and cast a healing spell. He
did not wish to break Dietrich yet. There were many more nights ahead. The
shadows melted away and left Dietrich, bare-assed and kneeling beside his bed.
Isaak undid his trousers meticulously and stroked himself, until his climax
spurted over the kneeling boy’s back. That was how Dietrich would awake when
the sun rose, stained with semen and blood.
***** The Third Night *****
Chapter Summary
     More dubious therapy methods. Isaak is just using it as an excuse to
     fuck Dietrich.
“Not hungry?” Isaak sipped at his wineglass of blood as Dietrich pushed aside
his plate untouched. They were dining alone since Cain was out at the opera.
Silent Reiz waited on them. 
“Which one is it in? The roast beef or the dessert?” Dietrich scowled but there
was a wary flicker in his eyes. Isaak chuckled.
“Eat up, there’s nothing amiss in your dinner. And you will need your strength
later…”
“Must I?” Dietrich toyed with his peas.
“Yes, my pet, you must, or I might just throw you to my shadow minions…” Isaak
drained his glass.
===============================================================================
 
After dinner…
 “Tell me what happened after you left the orphanage…” They were in Issak’s
personal study. Dietrich allowed himself to sprawl limply against Isaak’s thigh
as he sat smoking in his favourite armchair. “A little boy in a big, bad
world…” Absently, Isaak stroked Dietrich’s soft hair.
“I was so tired then. I simply kept walking until my legs gave out. A hunting
count came across me in the forest and took me in…” Dietrich kissed Isaak’s
thigh through the stiff fabric and rubbed his cheek against the bulge in the
crotch. Isaak must have cast some bewitchment upon him to make him so
compliant.
He must show the count his gratitude. He must be a good boy and do as his
benefactor desired. The count was vigorous and handsome, so much more appealing
than his coarse father or the old priest. Still it did not detract from the
fact that his games hurt. The count was rough and cruel in the night although
the boy was treated kindly in the daytime. Warm meals, clean clothes and books.
 
“He had long raven hair, a bit like yours, but tied back in a pony-tail…”
Dietrich’s fingers worked at unbuckling his mentor’s belt and freeing his
erection.
Isaak sucked in a mouthful of tobacco smoke and swatted Dietrich’s hands aside.
“First, tell me more.”
“On your knees, slave!” The crack of the whip against the flagstones was
sufficient warning. Trembling and naked, Dietrich got into position on his
knees before his master. His fine clothes were gone now and he shivered in the
damp air of the castle’s dungeons. He reached for the buttons on his master’s
pants.
“No, you fool, lick my boots clean…” A flick of the wrist and the whip bit into
his skin of his collarbone, drawing blood. The boy hurriedly bent down his head
and proceeded to kiss and lick the filth off those boots. The master had gone
hunting earlier and the forest detritus made him gag. He swallowed thickly.
Above him, shielded by the thick curtain of his hair, he could hear the count’s
breathing hitch, fingers fumbling with the heavy buttons and thick fabric of
his hunting breeches. He knew the man would be pleasuring himself as he watched
Dietrich lick his boots.
Perhaps he would be ordered to suck him off next. Dietrich’s throat felt
painfully dry. The leather taste made his stomach churn but he dared not stop.
With a hoarse shout, the count climaxed, spraying his seed over Dietrich’s
brown hair and pale thin back.
“Well done, knave. Up now and open wide…” the boy obeyed and closed his eyes.
He knew what was coming. Hot urine sprayed into his mouth and face, choking
him.
“Swallow it, wretch…” He tried to but choked on the salty liquid, spluttering
and coughing. The whip cut into his back and buttocks with each merciless lash.
“Oh dear, disobedient slaves must be punished…” the count grinned maliciously
as he placed a boot on the small of the boy’s back, grinding his pelvis into
the stone floor. “No, please, sir! I beg you…” the boy pleaded. There were so
many instruments the count had at his disposal to inflict punishment with.
Sobbing with fear, he allowed the count to manacle his wrists behind his back
and hoist him up by the wrists so that he was standing on his tiptoes. He
screamed at the agony in his protesting shoulders. The count applied his lit
cigar to the boy’s genitals, underarms and inner thighs, delighting in each
scream and plea he coaxed from his prey.
When the nobleman had tired of playing his sadistic games, he unchained the now
swooning boy and threw him over a table, roughly taking him almost as an
afterthought with only the boy’s own blood to ease the violence of the rape.
The servants would collect the child afterwards and tend to his hurts. If they
were lucky, the count might grant them the favour of plundering his pretty toy
themselves.  
He was a good boy. He always tried to do as his master desired. All he wanted
was to please his master.
“Isaak…” Dietrich breathed harshly as Isaak lazily pressed glowing tip of his
cigarillo into his skin, tracing his lover’s spine in a series of burns.
Dietrich’s clothes were neatly folded and placed on the table. Dietrich
lavished kisses and indulgent licks on his shoes. The taste of shoeshine was
bitter on his tongue. Dietrich’s lovely ass was stuck pertly up in the air. It
was a pity he had not the foresight to do this session in his private dungeons
but that could be rectified later.
“Reiz did a lovely job at the table tonight, didn’t he?” Isaak cupped
Dietrich’s chin and lifted his face so that he was looking into those sinful
eyes. Dietrich murmured something through his swollen lips. Unseen by the
Terran, Reiz approached. He was naked as Dietrich and busy slicking his
erection with oil just as Isaak had ordered him to. Isaak undid his trousers as
Dietrich watched expectantly. Isaak gave a signal to his valet, a mere flick of
a hand.
Without warning, the youth felt strong hands grab firmly his ass-cheeks and
pull them apart. A hot, slick rod rammed home into his unprepared entrance.
Dietrich yelped in pain and shock but his words were choked off by Isaak’s
throbbing cock ramming into his mouth. The Methuselah dug his nails into
Dietrich’s scalp, forcing his lips up and down the shaft. Reiz withdrew
slightly before slamming his cock into Dietrich’s ass. Teary-eyed he could only
hold onto the Methuselah’s thighs as both werewolf and vampire plundered his
body from both ends. When both were finished, Dietrich was left sprawled on the
carpet with semen oozing from the corners of his mouth and a mix of blood and
semen tricking down his thighs.
“You sick bastard…” Dietrich forced the words out through a haze of pain. Reiz
was surprisingly well-endowed and Dietrich was sure his rectum was torn.
“Reiz will have you all cleaned up before I see to your ass…” Isaak shrugged.
The stoic as ever, the werewolf scooped Dietrich’s limp body into his arms
bridal-style and carried him off to the bathroom.
===============================================================================
 
“What happened to the count, Dietrich?” Isaak asked. Reiz had been dismissed
for the night as soon as he had delivered Dietrich to his bed, clean and
scrubbed.
His lover spooned against his side as he worked the healing magic on his much
abused ass. He smelt of soap and rosewater to Isaak’s keen nose.
“He tired of me… Don’t know why… didn’t use the wires on him. Killed two of the
castle servants who had me… using my wires…” Dietrich mumbled into the crook of
his elbow. The blood loss and exertions had worn him out. “Sent me to a nursing
home in the city…”
A steady, soft snoring announced to the Methuselah that the Terran had fallen
asleep.
***** The Fourth Night *****
Chapter Summary
     Isaak plays doctor with DIetrich, as in sadistic doctor. More drug
     use.
“Isaak, are your sick experiments on me quite done?” Dietrich growled peevishly
as he fought against his bonds. He had good reason to be peeved. One moment he
was happily perusing a tome of Acta Anatomia in the Orden’s library. The next
thing he knew, he was surrounded by Isaak’s shadow minions, stripped naked
where he stood and dragged off kicking and screaming to Isaak’s private
dungeon. It happened in front of that idiot Radu and slutty Helga, to their
great amusement.
“Oh, but there is so much more in your memories to explore…” Isaak tapped
Dietrich’s forehead. The Terran struggled fiercely to no avail. The leather
straps held him fast to the cold metal table which tilted at an angle,
stretching his legs open. His wrists were held high above his head.
“You mean more ways in which to humiliate me… Get it over with already!”
Dietrich forced his mental shields up, ejecting Isaak’s probing from his mind.
“Reiz,” Isaak snapped his fingers and the werewolf valet appeared with a metal
box. Opening the box, Isaak took out syringe and a small bottle. Dietrich
moaned when he saw Isaak fill the syringe with a clear liquid. Reiz
methodically swabbed the skin on Dietrich’s forearm with an ethanol-soaked
cotton pad. Isaak stroked the arm almost tenderly before pricking the skin with
the needle. Dietrich felt the burn as the drug entered his bloodstream. He had
to talk.
“How old were you when you were sent away from the castle to that nursing
home?”
“Eight, I think… And that hospital was an asylum for the mentally ill. I am not
mad, am I?” Those lovely brown eyes were unfocused and wide.
“Sorry, Di. I’m afraid you are a born sociopath… just like me….” Isaak caressed
Dietrich’s neck with the flat of a pocket-knife, tracing the lay of the blood
vessels beneath the translucent skin. 
They said he was a bad boy. He wasn’t. He wanted so much to be good boy. He
didn’t like the thin drab clothes he had to wear. He didn’t like being tied up.
The food was bad and the attendants cruel. There were others there, like the
woman who screamed all night until she hung herself with a blanket and the man
who did nothing but sit and drool in the garden, even when it was snowing. The
children were the worst. They came and went with alarming frequency. He knew
what happened to them. He had seen the bodies wheeled out to be burned in the
crematorium.
How lucky for him that Herr Doktor liked him. The Doktor knew about his powers
somehow. Perhaps he witnessed the young patient using them against an attendant
who was tormenting him. He would survive as long as the Doktor needed him for
his experiments. He was poked and prodded. They always tied him up so that he
could not use his wires. The Doktor would coo and call him a dear child even as
he sent painful electric shocks into the most sensitive parts of his young
body. Or drained his blood until his heart almost failed. His fingers had been
broken one by one and set in splints to heal, just to see if it would inhibit
his powers. Odd powders and liquids had been poured down his throat or injected
into his body to see how he would react to them. Often they made him very sick.
The gown the inmates wore hid little and left him exposed to those rough
groping hands. Perhaps he had made the Doktor interested in him. It was perhaps
his strategy at surviving the hellish conditions he found himself in. He was
given more food than the others just to ensure that he would have the strength
to endure the battery myriad tests.
“You are beautiful… my brown-eyed angel.” Another wave of electric pulses
burned his balls. They had shaved his brown locks off to better stick
electrodes to his scalp. More electrodes were pasted to the swollen nubs of his
nipples. Dietrich tried to beg for mercy but the gag was in his mouth. The
Doktor slipped the barely-lubricated electrode into his rectum and sent another
pulse against his young prostrate. It hurt terribly as his muscles spasmed
uncontrollably about the probe.
The experiments seemed to be endless. It was almost with relief that the Doktor
took him back to his own quarters for use as his personal catamite instead of a
test subject. As soon as he had recovered his strength sufficiently, he used
his wires to rid himself of another tormentor.
“How does that feel, Herr Doktor?” Dietrich laughed with malicious glee as he
pulled on his trousers. His ass was still sticky with the doctor’s seed but he
had no time to lose. The old man gaped like a goldfish but made no sound. His
guts pooled like oily ropes on the bed where he had been fucking his patient
into the mattress earlier. The boy arranged his shirt. “Farewell, Doktor…” he
placed a kiss on the dying man’s cheek before fleeing the asylum, leaving a
trail of death and destruction in his wake.
“Ah. That would be the Vienna St Frieda’s Hospital Massacre. The police always
thought it was an uprising by the inmates…” Isaak puffed idly on his
cigarillo. 
“Pah, the Austrian police are fools…” Dietrich murmured. He gasped as Isaak
stubbed his cigarillo out on his chest and then kissed that abused nipple. He
oiled his fingers liberally and slid one, then two into Dietrich’s passage.
Dietrich sighed as he was stretched and prepped. He was not sure if his body
could endure another rough coupling after the past few nights. Isaak unbuckled
his ankles so that he could wrap his legs around the older man’s waist.
With uncharacteristic gentleness on Isaak’s part, he entered Dietrich, impaling
him upon his rampant member. He set up a slow, steady rhythm. Dietrich moaned
wantonly and his eyes grew half-masted with pleasure.
“Reiz, the belt now …” Isaak said in a clipped tone. The werewolf obeyed.
Dietrich’s eyes snapped open as the leather throng looped about his neck and
twisted tight. His eyes bulged in their sockets as he fought to breathe. His
wrists chafed against the restraints as he struggled in vain. Isaak grunted as
the boy’s inner muscles clenched involuntarily about him. He pinched the tip of
Dietrich’s bobbing penis to keep him from coming before he did.
“So nice and tight…” A few more thrusts and he came inside Dietrich. Only then
did he motion for Reiz to stop choking the Terran. Reiz nodded and removed the
belt. With a deft flick of his finger against the sensitive head, he finished
the Terran and granted him his release. Dietrich came hard into Isaak’s gloves
and the magus milked him for all its worth.  
“There, there… my good boy. It wasn’t too bad, was it?” Isaak pinched the tip
of Dietrich’s nose and wiped his hand clean on the brown tresses. “I was
expecting you to be a lot looser…”
“Isaak, you are one sick bastard…” Dietrich croaked. Isaak only chuckled and
ran the tip of his pocket knife along Dietrich’s clavicle, deep enough to draw
blood. He bent his head to the wound and lapped up the blood. 
“Do you wish to me to continue, Isaak?” Dietrich groaned harshly.
“Tomorrow night, my little whore…” Isaak strolled over to the door. Reiz had
left the room by now.
“Er, are we forgetting something? Isaak? ISAAK!” Dietrich screamed as the magus
switched off the lights and shut the door, leaving him alone still bound and
naked on the cold table.
***** The Fifth Night *****
Chapter Summary
     Dietrich talks about the family he found and lost. Wait, that's not
     what pianos are meant for!
Dietrich was speaking more freely tonight. Isaak noticed. The boy wanted to get
his inner demons out into the open, or at least give his lover an excuse to use
him. Now he perched cross-legged on the lid of the grand piano as Isaak’s
fingers coaxed wild melodies from the ivory keys. Reiz was not in attendance.
Business in Berlin had required his attentions on Isaak’s behalf. The firelight
danced on Dietrich’s hair. There would be no need for drugs tonight.
“I was on the streets for a while, begging and earning my crust...”
“By letting any tramp with two buttons to rub in his pocket use your body,”
Isaak snorted. Dietrich made no move to deny the fact. On the streets, he would
have done anything for a piece of stale bread.
“Ooh, yes. Fine gentlemen mostly. Take me in some dark alley- have me sucking
their cocks or sticking it up to me against the wall. Hag, girl or lad. It
don’t matter to them so long as they got a nice warm hole to stick it into for
their pleasures.” 
“Language,” Isaak admonished. Dietrich was sounding like some streetwise urchin
instead of the young gentleman Isaak always insisted he carried himself as. “If
you want to act like a street whore, we can always toss you out into the
streets, after stripping away your powers…”
“Apologies, my lord,” Dietrich bowed mockingly. “Mostly the usual stuff, which
my dear deceased Papa had introduced me to… Living in the streets, sleeping in
doorways… Until I met Herr Schmidt and Herr Frank. Real classy gentlemen both.
It amused them to take in this poor little street waif.”
Dietrich climbed onto the piano top like a graceful cat. He arched his back and
started loosening his tie. Isaak ceased his playing a moment before continuing.
He could appreciate the flirtation and play at the same time if Dietrich was
going to entertain him with an impromptu strip-show.   
He was to call them his uncles. He was cosseted, given treats of toys and
sweets. He even had his own room with a large bed and a bookcase full of books
for his reading pleasure. In the early days, Dietrich rarely slept in his own
bed as he often awoke between his ‘uncles’. Herr Schmidt was a schoolmaster
previously and he taught Dietrich his letters. Herr Frank was a concert
pianist. They were also lovers.
They played him as if he were a violin or piano, coaxing moans and gasps of
ecstasy from his throat. He was their dear pet. Uncle Schmidt’s whiskers
tickled when he kissed him down there. Uncle Frank’s fingers were equally
skilled in the bedroom as they were on the piano. For the first time in his
life, sex was something possibly pleasurable. In bed, he always submitted to
their basest desires. They had used him at both ends at the same time. He had
licked their hairy asses and allowed them to piss on him. Often, they nipped,
kissed and caressed him during their bed-games. Even if it hurt, they would
always make it up to him the next day with presents.
Once, he had allowed them both to stick their shafts up his ass. It had hurt
terribly despite copious use of scented oil and stretching. He had bled and
cried as he rode both their shafts. The next day, he was given an expensive
train-set to make up for the pain it caused him to move his bowels over the
next week. They never did that to him again and he was thankful for it.
The youth was happy for a while. He was being a good boy, working at his
studies and the piano, although it should became painfully clear he would never
be more than a mediocre pianist. It soon became clear that the uncles cared
less for him as the weeks past. More often, the pair would make love to each
other like bunnies and ignore their foundling. There were less sweets or toys.
Dietrich realised he was nothing more than a pretty little doll to be used for
their sensual pleasures. The novelty of having him share their lovemaking had
dulled.
“You little harlot!” The slap sent him flying into the bookcase. He had walked
in on Herr Schmidt masturbating. Hoping to please the man, he had gone on his
knees and placed his hands on that shaft, trying to offer the services of his
well-trained mouth. Herr Schmidt was not amused.
“Please, Uncle… let me pleasure you…” Distraught, the boy crawled on all fours
to his guardian.
“You sick brat. What makes you think I want to be pleasured by you?” Herr
Schmidt spat.
A kick to his rear forestalled more protests on Dietrich’s part. “Think you can
steal my love’s affections with your cheap tricks, you piece of filth?” Herr
Frank was home and he brought his stick down upon the cowering boy until the
heavy wood broke. Bruised and bleeding, their discarded toy was locked in his
room until he could be disposed of. He sat in the dark nursing his wounds,
painfully aware of his guardians’ grunts and moans as they coupled wildly in
the next room.
“They were right about one thing. You are a harlot…” Isaak purred as Dietrich
ground his bare ass against his crotch. The Terran bounced between his legs,
perched on the piano seat.
“Isaak!” Dietrich pouted prettily and Isaak savaged his lips in a crushing
kiss.
“A wanton, shameless whore… just the way I love you…”
“You mean you lust for my body, right? Cannot wait to stuff both my holes…”
Love had nothing to do with sex. He refused to believe such a thing existed at
all.
“Don’t be so vulgar, Di.” Isaak pulled away from the delicious friction
Dietrich was inflicting on his body. He hoisted the laughing boy back onto the
piano, draping his upper torso over the lid. He tugged off his glove with his
teeth.
“Suck. And suck them well. That’s all the lube you are getting tonight.”
Dietrich’s lips parted to admit Isaak’s fingers. He licked and coated them
liberally. Two fingers, then three. He gagged when the nails scratched against
the back of his throat. The fingers were removed. Dietrich panted when a cool
digit pushed into his passage.
“What happened to your two uncles, Di?” Dietrich gripped onto the piano as
Isaak roughly stretched him wide.
“H-house fire. I got out of the room- used wires to make them let me out. Made
them kill each other, shot…”
“I am not a toy to be played with and discarded…” their foundling growled. Gone
was the docile, compliant boy they had so sorely mis-used. A mad light danced
in his eyes. Mute and fearful, the men stood facing each other, loaded pistols
in hand. The uncanny child flexed his hands. Trembling, they raised their arms
in unison, fingers on the triggers. At that distance, they could not miss. They
did not. Blood and brain matter splattered over the piano and carpet. As a crop
de grace, the youth smashed an oil lamp onto the carpet, engulfing the room in
flames.
Dietrich howled aloud as his pelvis was slammed mercilessly into the piano,
bruising his balls. Grunting, Isaak thrust in and out of his passage as if he
were laying siege to the boy’s ass. Dietrich screamed and begged. The violent
coupling ended with Dietrich coming over the piano. Isaak tore his still-erect
shaft out of Dietrich’s body and threw the boy roughly to the floor. Dietrich
staggered onto his knees.
Isaak finished by spurting his seed over Dietrich’s hair and face.
“Sorry, Di. Looks like I am not filling either of your holes tonight. Now,
clean up my piano.” Grabbing Dietrich by a fistful of hair, he rubbed the
youth’s cheek against the sticky white stains on the piano.
***** The Sixth Night *****
Chapter Summary
     Cain decides to join in and Dietrich might not like it that much.
“Whatever are you up to, Di?” Isaak stubbed his cigarillo in an ashtray.
“Laying my demons to rest… Shall we continue where we left off?” Dietrich
purred. Instead of his usual uniform, he was wearing a very short dirndl and a
blond wig. His face was garishly made-up. Isaak chuckled in appreciation as
Dietrich spun around, lifted the tiny skirt and wriggled his bare buttocks.
“Let’s see… you landed a job in a Bavarian Beer Garden where the folks are too
drunk to care if you were really a boy under that apron,” Isaak slapped that
pert rear. He had a surprise waiting for the boy but this particular surprise
on Dietrich’s part was not totally unwelcome to him.
“Close but not quite. At nine, I was still a child. The authorities put me in
an orphanage. The place was run by a sour old nun. Chores and prayers all the
time- all boredom. I was set to run away when a kind gentleman adopted me. Made
a big donation to the orphanage too. Only it turned out he wasn’t adopting me
as his heir. He was engaged to collect beautiful children for a special club.
Heard of the Sodom Club?” Dietrich clambered into Isaak’s lap and straddled his
hips.
“Ah, yes. That club catered to wealthy people of a certain ilk as I recall,”
Isaak pinched a nipple through the linen blouse. “You must have been used to
your heart’s content there…”
His companions were all beautiful in their own way, boys and girls alike. For a
price, their customers could select any child they liked and use them however
they liked. Most of the children were between four and fifteen although there
were a few younger ones obtained for special guests. A few were fortunate
enough to be taken in by enamoured patrons. Opium and other drugs were often
administered to keep the children complacent. He learned the rules quickly.
Those who failed to please the patrons were severely punished. Starvation and
broken limbs were not uncommon. There was a dungeon in the basement where the
more wayward children were given over to customers who tortured them for their
sadistic pleasures. Many did not emerge from the dungeon alive. The same fate
awaited those whose charms no longer drew enough custom. Those who survived the
dreaded dungeon were cast out broken and wearing only the rags on their backs.
Debauchery was the theme of the club. He had witnessed siblings commit incest
at the urging of the customers. There were even furred and feathered critters
for the children to mate with should the customers so desire. The first night
in the club, he had debuted in an orgy involving him being used by two other
boys as the customers cheered them on. Afterwards, he had been drugged and
bound naked to a large bed for the use of the guests.
Dietrich’s soft brown eyes and porcelain pale skin made him a favourite. He was
allowed to keep his hair long. Some guests would pay extra to take him out and
parade him at private balls and parties. They enjoyed dressing him up,
sometimes as a girl.
“I first met you and Cain at the opera Lohengrin,” Dietrich arched back and
surrendered his neck to the Methuselah’s kisses.
He did try to get some pleasure, however fleeting, from the acts he was forced
to engage in. Sometimes it was nigh impossible. The damned corset he was
crammed into constricted his chest so much he could hardly breathe. The
gentleman he was accompanying stank of rotten cabbage and stale smoke. The man
kept grabbing his ass through his silk evening gown and the dress was getting
all rumpled. His hair was already ripped free of the coif and he was a mess to
behold.
“Bend over, cunt…” Dietrich clung onto the rails for dear life as he was
unceremoniously thrown over the balcony and mounted by the boor. Thankfully, it
gave him a chance to actually see the opera and ignore the disgusting grunts
from behind him. Engrossed in the opera, the audience did not notice the
activity in the shadowy box seat.
“What a bore…” a blond gent stood up mid-aria in blatant disregard of opera
protocol and made his way to the exit. His raven-haired companion glanced up as
he followed. He tipped his hat to young harlot before continuing on his way.
Dietrich blushed crimson at the idea he had been observed.
“Blond does not suit you,” Isaak growled and ripped the wig off Dietrich’s
head. With his claws he tore the blouse open for access to Dietrich’s chest.
“Tell me how you were used and who used you…”
Dietrich laughed and wrapped his legs around Isaak’s waist. “There were so many
who used me, I can’t recall them all… Let’s see… There were dukes and princes,
even a Spanish cardinal once. Had me dress up as a choirboy and screwed me in
his own private chapel with a crucifix as the saints looked on. There was that
Venetian noble who had me do a threesome with his own daughter. She was a sweet
little thing, red curls and blue eyes. Tasted like brandy. Looked delicious
bouncing on her daddy’s cock. Had me lick her cunt clean when he was finished
with her. She cried a lot. There was that Albionian doctor who…”
“Were you ever punished?”
“Yes…” Dietrich frowned. He had taken his turn in the dungeons but he was
valuable enough to the club to ensure he was not too badly injured.
It was the hunter-count. Somehow the man had strolled back into his life.
Dietrich accidentally knocked over the wine, ruining his customer’s expensive
clothes. For that he was to be punished by the count.
“Beg, slave…” Dietrich writhed in the stocks. He was blindfolded and naked. His
former master was near. “Please, sir… please, don’t hurt…” Something hit his
ribs hard.
“Not like that, slave… beg for my cock. You are a big boy now and I know you
want it…”
Dietrich bit his lower lip. He refused to beg like a common slut. His defiance
was broken when a hard object prodded roughly into his cleft.
“He fucked me dry with his walking stick. Kept doing me until I passed out.
Then he doused me in cold water to wake me up and do me all over again,”
Dietrich dug his nails into Isaak’s shoulders as he was bodily carried towards
the bedroom. It was almost time…
“You poor, poor thing… Never mind. I will remember to lube you up properly
before Mein Herr plays with you.” Isaak roughly peeled Dietrich’s limbs off him
and deposited the Terran onto a bed and Dietrich realised in horror that it was
not Isaak’s bedroom but Cain’s that he had been brought to. In full naked
glory, Cain pulled a face and twirled his walking stick.
“Ugh, Dietrich, face to the wall before I tear it off. That lipstick is so not
your colour,” Cain grinned wickedly as he hiked the skirt up to the boy’s
waist. Isaak unhurriedly emptied a bottle of oil over Dietrich’s cleft.
Dietrich buried his face into a pillow as Cain teased his entrance with a nail.
He prayed enough of the oil was slicking his entrance. Isaak tried to act
nonchalant but Cain was better known for his cruelty than his restraint. When
Cain played with Isaak, it was not uncommon for the Methuselah to be left in a
pool of blood and bedridden for a week. For a fragile Terran…
Dietrich screamed as Cain rammed the bulbous knob of his cane into his tight
passage. He tried to relax but it hurt so much. “Shut up and take it all in,
you whore…” Cain growled and pressed on the small of his back to keep the boy
from bucking off the bed. He shifted the angle of the cane and rammed it into
the boy’s ass. Blood was staining the snowy sheets underneath the weeping
Terran.
“Isaak, hold him down before I slit his worthless throat!” Isaak gripped hold
of Dietrich’s wrists. Dietrich’s face was twisted in agony as the cruel Crusnik
raped his young body. Dietrich sobbed and blubbered as Cain continued moving
the now bloodied cane in and out of his abused hole.
“Face the wall!” Cain dug his claws into Dietrich’s scalp and twisted his face
so that he was staring at the mirrored wall. “He makes a nice picture, doesn’t
he?” he mocked.
Isaak nodded, raven hair veiling his expression. He kept the pressure on
Dietrich’s wrists. The youth stared at their reflections. Cain was laughing
manically as he tormented his prey with his walking stick. Dietrich could feel
flashes of pain as the rough wood cut and tore his insides. With a hiss, Cain
raked his nails down his back, tearing both fabric and skin. A fully-clothed
Isaak was still and silent as a statue. Between them, he lay with his bloodied
and ripped skirts hiked about his waist. His makeup was smudged by his tears.
Cain left his stick jammed into Dietrich’s ass and selected a many-thronged
whip from a side table. The lashes rained down on his bare legs and buttocks
hard and fast. At times Cain would smack the walking stick still protruding
from his ass and send more jolts of pain through him. Dietrich begged, sobbed
and soiled himself in fear- something he had not done since he was nine. One
particularly hard smack caused Dietrich to buck up and scream. Impassive as
ever, Isaak pressed his arms down upon the mattress so firmly that he jerked
his right arm out of its socket. The pain almost caused Dietrich to pass out.
Cain was wildly unpredictable and Isaak would obey his every command. If Cain
meant for Dietrich to be killed as part of his twisted games…
The Crusnik soon wearied of the game. He tossed aside the bloodied cat o’nine
tails and yanked his walking stick out of Dietrich’s battered body.
“Clean this up, luv…” he shoved the bloodied knob of his stick into Dietrich’s
face. Teary-eyed, the brown-haired young man obeyed and licked the knob.Cain
jammed it painfully into his mouth. He sucked, tasting the copper of blood and
other fluids. “Good boy. Isaak, he deserves something, doesn’t he?” A hand
ruffled his hair before sharp nails dug in and tugged his hair, jerking his
head upwards.
Isaak shimmied over to position himself behind Dietrich. The boy’s rear was a
sight to behold. Angry, bleeding welts covered the back of his thighs and ass
cheeks. His cleft was bleeding profusely. Isaak bent down, long hair brushing
against the bruised inner thighs and licked the blood. His gloved hands cupped
the bruised buttocks as he fucked Dietrich with his tongue. Dietrich moaned
around Cain’s walking stick. His mouth was so full it was hard to breathe.
Isaak mercilessly prodded and probed with his tongue, salving his damaged inner
walls and battered prostrate.
Despite all the abuse it had been subjected to over the past hour, Dietrich
climaxed onto Cain’s sheets. He arched up with a cry. Cain tut-tutted, took the
stick out from his mouth and slapped the boy so hard his teeth rattled.
“What a slut.” He kicked out so that Dietrich rolled over the side of the bed
and onto the floor.
Thoroughly exhausted and weak from blood loss, he fainted as soon as he hit the
carpet.
“Enjoyed yourself, Mein Herr?” Isaak enquired as he lit a cigarillo. Cain only
chuckled.
“I don’t see why you find him fascinating, even though I must admit his screams
and tears were most beautiful. Now get my room cleaned and his garbage out,”
the Crusnik dug a heel into Dietrich’s ribs.
***** The Final Night *****
Chapter Summary
     Isaak shows a gentle side and secrets are revealed. As if.
Dietrich was sore all over. Isaak had used a healing spell on his body but he
was too sore to make it out of bed the entire day. His shoulder ached. Someone
had rammed it back into its socket after he had passed out. His meals were sent
to his room by a stoic Reiz. He did not even have the energy to choke the
stupid werewolf with his wires. He curled under his blanket, trying to snatch
some sleep. He was not in his own bed but Isaak’s. The Panzer Magier was absent
from it for now. He did doze off at some point. It was the acrid reek of
Isaak’s cigarillo which roused him from sleep.
“Isaak, what do you want of me tonight? What does Master Cain want of me?”
Despite himself, Dietrich drew in his knees to his chin as he crouched on the
bed. He felt numb and dull. Sex, pain, pleasure… He enjoyed inflicting pain and
receiving it. He used his body, words and pretty face to manipulate others. He
knew Mein Herr was not so easy dealt with due to his power and madness. Isaak
was stronger than Dietrich and he has proven over the last week he had cruelty
enough to cause Dietrich serious harm.
“Nothing you don’t want… Tonight is on what you want…” Isaak blew smoke into
his face, making his eyes smart. “So tell me, boy.”
“I want to be your puppet. I want to be used…” The truth hit Dietrich then. As
much as he controlled others with his uncanny wires, he enjoyed relinquishing
that control to others. Especially those he knew would go all out to hurt him.
Last night, his body had been forced to its limits by Cain and Isaak- Cain
physically, Isaak mentally. He had almost broken. If he had broken, the pair
would have disposed of him without a second thought. 
“Whip me, burn me, take me,” Dietrich tugged his nightshirt over his head so
that he was stark naked. He would not fight tonight and Isaak knew it.
“You are a bad boy and you know it. You want to be punished for being a bad
boy’” Isaak stubbed out his cigarillo in an ashtray. The Methuselah sat
Dietrich in his lap, trailing wet kisses down his cheek and neck before nipping
at his earlobe.
“We have met before the opera, remember? Perhaps you were too young then…”
Dietrich lolled as Isaak sank his teeth into his flesh.
He was young and utterly bewildered. His backside stung from the spankings
Father and Mother had given him. Father had forced him to suck him off again.
He gagged at the memory. It was night time but he could not sleep, not with his
throat so sore. He staggered towards the gate. A fine black carriage waited. A
tall man with long black hair stood beside it.
“Ooh, what a delightful child! Could I keep him please, Isaak?” a golden-haired
passenger inside clapped his hands. The door of the carriage opened.
Unresisting, the boy felt himself drawn towards the carriage. The golden-haired
man beckoned him to sit on his lap and he did not disobey.
“He’s too young to be of use, Mein Herr,” Isaak bowed. The boy lolled limply as
Cain handled him as if he were some interesting new toy.
“We’ll come back for him someday. Till then, Isaak, give him a gift…”  
“W-wires… you gave me that knowledge…” Dietrich murmured weakly as he was
drained to the knife-edge of oblivion. Isaak smiled. He laid his lover back
onto the pillows and spread his legs, noting how well the skin had healed. “Did
you come back for me?”
“Master Cain lost interest, like he always did. Until the incident at the Sodom
Club. You used your wires on everyone there- The count, the customers, the
owners and the children. The Orden had to notice that, especially since some of
our members were regulars. When we got there, you were the only one left alive
and we knew…”
Dietrich groaned as he was prepped with oil and Isaak’s skilled fingers, his
entrance gently stretched open. He barely felt any pain when Isaak sheathed
himself within. He clenched around Isaak but Isaak waved an admonishing finger.
Yes, he was the puppet tonight, Isaak’s puppet.
“If we had taken you back then, you would have most likely been killed by Mein
Herr or any one of the others,” Isaak breathed into Dietrich’s soft brown locks
as he bounced him up and down on his shaft. Dietrich’s eyes fluttered and his
shaft stiffened. However, he did not betray any other sign of life.
“You were forged by your experiences, boy. For better or worse. Each rape, each
humiliation, each violation upon you only served to hone your skills with the
wires.” Isaak closed his hand about Dietrich and jerked him off roughly.
Dietrich whined in half-hearted protest. Isaak reached his peak and spent
himself inside the shivering body.
“The Herr Doktor, he was one of your people…”
“Used to be…” Isaak lowered Dietrich back onto the pillows and cleaned him with
a wet towel, manhandling him as if he were a mannequin. “The count whom you
speak of was also one of ours.” 
“You let me get hurt…”
“Only because you wanted to be hurt, silly boy.” Isaak dodged as he sensed a
surge of power from his until then compliant puppet.
“Bother…” Dietrich smirked. He had attempted to use his wires on Isaak and
failed again. The Methuselah scowled.
“Nice try, brat. Now you pay…” Shadowy tendrils seized hold of the patient’s
wrists and ankles. Dietrich laughed as he was held fast.
“But every time I am hurt, the wires get stronger, no?”
“Perhaps I lied. Still, my beauty. You have become what you are now…” Isaak
traced Dietrich’s jaw with a finger. “Each scar, each sin etched upon your
body, mind and soul. Poison you have taken into yourself willingly or
otherwise. A devil with an angel’s face… a wanton harlot with a murderer’s
eyes… You are beautiful, like the poison maidens of yore. Know what they are,
brat? Young girls fed poison daily until they either die or become as the
poison, deadly in their very touch. You are pure poison, Di. We will offer you
to our enemies the same way those poison maidens were.”
“So I have a mission?”
“Of course. In Istvan there is a Count the Orden wishes to use. You will be
sent to him tomorrow. The details can wait…”
The shadows manhandled Dietrich’s body into position such that he was on all
fours with his arse was sticking up, ready for Isaak’s attentions. Isaak did
not hesitate. Dietrich shouted as he was penetrated roughly from behind as
Isaak gave him a rough goodbye fuck.
“Just for the road, you whore…” Isaak grunted. 
Dourly, Reiz packed Dietrich’s travelling bag as he listened to the sounds of
loud and violent lovemaking emanating from his master’s room. Isaak would not
break Dietrich, at least not while he still had his uses, even if it was
warming Isaak’s bed.
 
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