Completed: 10/02/2002 Last revised: 10/26/2003 [fic][orig] Black Feathers [part 1] (rough draft) SUMMARY: Prince Kaylin returns from a successful military expedition with an unexpected prize -- a winged male called Skya. Unlike other members of the Imperial Court, Kaylin has never shown any interest in collecting exotic slaves, but for unknown reasons, he chooses to claim official ownership of Skya. It soon becomes apparent that a terrible secret lurks at the heart of Kaylin's and Skya's relationship. However, the Imperial Court of Korenth harbors many secrets and dangers of its own.... Title: Black Feathers Author: Madamhydra Email: madamhydra@aol.com Status: WIP (work-in-progress) Archive: Type: original fiction Rating: NC-17 ********** WARNINGS ********* WARNINGS ********* WARNINGS ********** Violence Mature themes (slavery, BDSM, abuse, nonconsentual sex, etc.) YAOI (sexual m/m relationships) LEMON (explicit sexual content) ********** WARNINGS ********* WARNINGS ********* WARNINGS ********** Notice: This original work is considered to be the sole property and copyrighted to the author. CREDITS: Various bits of inspiration taking from Anne Bishop's "Black Jewel" trilogy, Mercedes Lackey's "Winds" trilogy, and the Erotic Mind Control fic archive. ( ... ) represents internal dialogue / ... / represents flashbacks ====================================================================== Black Feathers an original fic by Madamhydra ====================================================================== Part 1 ====================================================================== Prince Kaylin, fourth son of the great Imperial House of Korenth, arrived home on a pleasant spring day with little fanfare. Compared to his brothers' grand triumphant processions -- complete with elaborate processions displaying the cartloads of priceless treasures, exotic slaves, and all other manner of valuable commodities looted from various conquered territories -- Kaylin's return was barely noticeable. His mission, a modest expedition to gain control of the city-state of Trience, had gone off with a minimum of fuss and bloodshed, just like the Emperor had intended when he sent his youngest son on the mission. Almost everyone was pleased with his success. The great Korenth empire, still flourishing under the millennia-long reign of its powerful and mysterious Emperor, now had access to some highly valuable natural resources. As for the merchant-princes of Trience, they were glad that they were still alive and their city left mostly intact. Unlike other commanders, Kaylin had not stripped the city-state bare, but he had brought back the most important things -- Trience's official surrender, trade agreements highly favorable toward the Empire, numerous valuable hostages... and one unexpected trophy. On one of the terraces of the Imperial Palace, Princess Calla, one of Kaylin's numerous cousins, leaned precariously over the parapet wall and said in astonishment, "Ooooo... Kaylin's come back with a new toy!" She was immediately surrounded by her companions, an assortment of high-ranking noblewomen in their late teens. The 'princess' preceding her name might only be a courtesy title, but she was still a member of the imperial family. Her mother was a power at the Imperial Court, at least socially, so it was no wonder that ambitious young ladies of noble birth were falling over themselves to become her friend. A brisk gust of wind made Calla hiss in vexation. She had gotten up ridiculously early that morning so she could get the elaborate array of platinum blond ringlets just right and now her hairdo was utterly ruined. However, she was soon distracted as Prince Kaylin's party approached the palace walls. All the ladies stared in breathless fascination at the exquisite winged individual riding just behind the prince. As the procession approached, the young women could make out more details of the winged newcomer and murmured appreciatively. The exotic, as all creatures of unusual appearance were usually called, was of medium height, slender of build, with pale skin and long, silvery hair that floated and swirled in the cool spring breeze. However, the wings were the creature's most striking features. The upper portion of the wings were a brilliant, almost iridescent white, which shifted through darkening shades of silvery gray, and ended with large primary feathers of midnight black at the wing tips. Flowing robes of pale blue silk completed the picture and a very pretty picture it was. "They make quite a stunning pair, don't they?" commented one of Calla's companions. The princess couldn't help but agree. The imperial family was renowned for its physical beauty and her cousin Kaylin was certainly no exception. Kaylin's long, wavy black hair, his deep green eyes, and the faint hint of gold in his skin were all legacies of his mother, who had been an outlander concubine acclaimed as one of the most beautiful women in the empire during her tragically brief life. Those features, combined with his lithe, graceful build, made the prince a wonderfully attractive male version of the famous Lady Catelyn. In terms of sheer physical beauty, he was quite overshadowed by the more spectacular men in the Imperial Court -- his own brother Feirin, for one -- but Kaylin's relaxed, good-humored nature made him pleasant, undemanding company. The same could not be said about many of the other male members of the imperial family. His main fault from Calla's point of view was an unfortunate tendency to be overly bookish, but fortunately, that didn't make him boring or dull. At that moment, the winged exotic glanced up at the cluster of oogling young ladies. He looked surprised, then hastily looked away. The motion apparently caught the prince's attention because Kaylin pulled up his horse and slowed down until he was riding beside the exotic. The ladies ooh-ed and aah-ed, then exchanged sly, knowing nods when Kaylin leaned over to speak to the exotic, then gave the winged creature a reassuring touch on the arm. As the procession disappeared through the palace gates, one of the ladies asked, "Did you see THAT?" as she fanned her flushed cheeks. "Oh yes. No question about it. That exotic's warming his highness's bed," another lady replied. "Do you think the prince would be inclined to... share that beauty with us?" Princess Calla tossed her head pettishly and said, "If that slave's going to be made available to anyone, I want him first!" Amid a flurry of twitters and giggles, the young women rushed for the stairs, hungry for a better look at Prince Kaylin's new prize. -------------------------------------- The reception Kaylin received was informal, but enthusiastic, and consisted mostly of friends and relatives, with a sprinkling of ambitious courtiers eager to be seen rubbing shoulders with the right people. Even before he dismounted, people converged on him with congratulations. As Kaylin graciously thanked them, he discretely gestured for his men escort the hostages away to their comfortable imprisonment. They might be hostages, but he wanted to spare them the ordeal of being rudely gawked at by strangers. The time for that would come soon enough. In two days, he would be formally presenting them to the Emperor, along with the other trophies from the Trience campaign. At first the discussion centered around events in Trience, but it soon became clear that everyone was much more interested in the winged exotic, who had remained on his horse all this time. The intense stares he received bordered on the openly predatory and clearly made the young exotic uneasy. A nervous twitch of his stunningly patterned wings only attracted more unsettling attention. Winged bipeds were rare, but certainly not unknown in a place as sophisticated as the Imperial Court. Collecting exotics was a common, if rather expensive hobby among the aristocracy and even the wealthier merchant families. As with most collectibles, many people chose to specialize in specific types. Prince Salazar, one of Kaylin's older brothers, was notorious for his taste for anything feline. But unlike other members of his family, Kaylin had never shown any inclination toward collecting slaves, so the appearance of such a prize in his entourage was somewhat of a surprise for many people. However, no one could fault the prince's taste. The creature was undeniably beautiful, and since he wasn't caged or otherwise restrained, it was no doubt well trained. An obscure third cousin, decked out in flamboyant court robes, slapped Kaylin on the back and said a bit too jovially, "I see you've brought back a very pretty souvenir from your little trip!" Kaylin smiled politely, absently flicked his shoulder-length ponytail back over his shoulder, and said, "I suppose one could view it that way." Amid a murmur of agreement, an elderly, heavily perfumed noblewoman lifted her eyeglass and squinted through it at the winged newcomer. Finally, she drawled, "Charming. Tell me, is it any good in bed?" Kaylin sighed, swept the older woman an elegant bow and said, "It's not like that, my esteemed grand aunt. And HIS name is Skya." "Whatever. And you haven't answered my question," she retorted in waspish tones. Prince Salazar, casually dressed in his usual riding leathers and his skin warmly tanned from innumerable days of hunting, carelessly elbowed several people out of his way and said with a chuckle, "Don't try to tell me you picked him up in an alley somewhere. A stray puppy, he's not." "Well, no. It's all rather complicated...." Kaylin turned to the winged man and held out his hand. The newcomer hesitated before gracefully dismounting his horse. The steed huffed and tossed its head as Skya's wings nearly brushed its head, but that was its only reaction -- it had been trained to carry much odder things than people with wings. As Skya moved to stand by Kaylin's side, Salazar held a brief whispered conversation with a newly arrived servant. The older prince then turned to Kaylin and said briskly, "You can tell me all the gory details later. I've got to run. But just to make matters clear for everyone, do you claim him as your property?" Kaylin flicked a quick glance at Skya, who stared at him for an intense instant before glancing away. With an odd little smile, the prince shrugged and said, "Yes, he's mine." His brother clapped his hands together loudly and announced, "Good. Your rights of ownership are officially recognized and witnessed." He leaned closer to his younger brother and said drily, "Although I recommend that you mark or get a collar on him as soon as possible, Kaylin. He's bound to cause trouble if you let him go running around loose. That sort of beauty often tempts people into doing stupid and reckless things." Kaylin sighed and said, "I'll take care of it as soon as I can. By the way, I vaguely recall you writing something about a new acquisition while I was gone?" Salazar grinned. "Oh definitely. I just caught a gorgeous tabby-marked male exotic two weeks ago. Wild as hell, of course, and needs training with a firm hand. But I like them spirited." He glanced at the delicate-looking Skya and grinned wickedly. "Don't worry. He's safely tucked in a cage, so you don't have to fret about your poor little bird getting stalked, pounced on, and eaten." As the people around them chuckled, Skya blanched at Salazar's words and flung a panicked glance at Kaylin. But if the exotic had been expecting or hoping for some reassurance that Salazar was joking, he was doomed to disappointment. -------------------------------------- Standing in one of the minstrel galleries overlooking the grand hall, Derrick, the captain of Prince Kaylin's personal guard, scowled as he stared down at the cluster of people surrounding his lord and his new 'pet'. "Better be careful. Your face might just freeze like that and what a tragedy that would be for the ladies." Recognizing the familiar gravelly voice, Derrick turned and gave his old classmate a sour smile. "Hello, Ernest." "Heard the mission turned out well. Only needed to kill a few hundred soldiers, execute a handful of city leaders, and all that. Neat, tidy, and efficient. That's one of the things I like about your Lord Kaylin. Doesn't enjoy hurting people, but not over-squeamish about doing what's necessary." Derrick's scowl only deepened. He wished he could forget about the Trience mission all together. He wished that Prince Kaylin had never come within a thousand leagues of that god-cursed city and Skya. He wished that Grand Duke Markus has been the one sent to Trience as originally planned.... Ernest paused, then said, "You don't seem to like him." "What?" Derrick said vaguely, raking his hand through his short brown hair. "That winged creature." "Skya. His name is Skya." "Whatever. You don't like him. Or maybe you're not happy with the situation." Derrick glanced at his old friend. Under the gruff, stolid exterior, Earnest had a sharp, observant mind. He'd better watch his tongue. "Don't like the situation? I suppose you could put it that way." (How about 'hate the situation'? Loathe? Curse? No, how about utterly DESPISE this whole hideous situation?) "Why? You jealous?" Derrick looked startled. "Me, jealous?" "Well, I know you and the prince are close. I didn't know if you were entertaining any hopes of anything more...." Earnest hastily spread his big calloused hands in a placating gesture. "So maybe I've got the reasons all wrong, but I know you, Derrick. You're angry... really, really angry at something. And that something has to do with your lord Kaylin and/or that Skya person." Derrick opened his mouth, then closed it. Finally, he said in the way of an oblique admission, "Put it down to... badly frustrated protective instincts." "Is there anything I can do to help?" Derrick shook his head slowly. "Thanks, but no. Not now." Ernest considered the implications of that statement, then nodded thoughtfully, and walked away. Derrick watched as Kaylin hastily made for his private quarters in an effort to dodge the incoming pack of bubble-headed young ladies. Skya obediently followed him a few paces behind, just like any well trained servant or slave should. The captain muttered under his breath, "Angry? Oh, you don't know the half of it." -------------------------------------- As Samel's hands briskly went through the routine of setting out the wine goblets and his mouth chattered about recent bits of court gossip, his mind was fully occupied with entirely different thoughts. He was eleven years old and a better actor than any of those older guys prancing across a wooden stage. He had damn well better be. For them, it was just a matter of gold and glory. For him, the stakes were much higher. But gods, how he hated having to smile and act like nothing was wrong. How he hated having to pretend that everything was perfectly normal.... ....pretend that his lord Kaylin was perfectly normal. He felt his teeth start to grind and hastily relaxed his jaw. The last thing he wanted was for the prince to notice his anger and hatred. Pretend. Pretend. Pretend. ....pretend that his lord Kaylin hadn't beaten and raped him. ....pretend that he hadn't felt the hot, endless tears trickling onto his cheeks. ....pretend he hadn't heard the piteous cries of someone in unbearable agony. ....pretend that his lord hadn't thrust his fingers deep inside him, violating and then bewitching him. ....pretend that he wasn't now bound, however unwillingly, to obey another's cruel and capricious whims. Samel hastily jerked his thoughts from those memories. He could do it. No, he HAD to do it. At least he wasn't alone. Gods, if he had been the only one trapped in this hellish mess, he surely would have gone stark raving mad long ago. Fortunately for him, there were people he could talk to, people who understood all too well his feelings of helplessness and anger. He shot a quick glance at his prince. Kaylin was fully occupied with sorting the small ocean of letters, reports, and invitations that had accumulated during his expedition to Trience. Without thinking, Samel reached out and wrapped his fingers around the nearest wine bottle, but a slim, pale hand stopped him from picking it up. Samel froze, then slowly looked up at Skya. They stared at each other for a long moment. Samel was the first to move, releasing the bottle and dropping his hands to his sides. Skya's lips curved upward in a curiously empty little smile, then glanced meaningfully toward the hallway door. Samel's hands clenched into fists. His young shoulders tensed. The exotic said nothing, but shifted his gaze to Kaylin, who was apparently oblivious to the silent confrontation taking place behind his back. Samel may have been only eleven years old, but there was nothing immature about the rage and hatred glittering in his eyes. Without saying a word or making a sound, the page turned and stalked out of the room. -------------------------------------- As soon as he stepped into the hallway, Samel heard the door lock behind him. He whirled around and glared furiously at the door. Suddenly, he raised his fist and swung. But before his hand collided with the sturdy lacquered wood, someone grabbed his wrist. The page stared up at the tall man beside him, then suddenly pulled his hand free of Derrick's grasp and flung his arms around the guard captain's waist. Burying his face against Derrick's shirt, Samel hissed softly, "I hate him I hate him I hate him I hate him I hate him I hate him that filthy, unholy monster I hate him I hate him I hate him I hate him...." As he gently patted the boy's shaking shoulders, Derrick stared grimly at the locked door. They both knew too well the horrific things that were taking place behind that door. "I couldn't agree more." He gripped Samel's shoulders and held him away just far enough to get a good look at the boy's face. Samel wasn't crying. The boy had given up tears back in Trience. "But at the moment, there's nothing WE can do to stop it. You know that. Acting recklessly will only going to make things that much worse for him. You know that, too. He won't hesitate to punish him for our smallest defiance or mistake." The page gulped air, then said bitterly, "Hesitate? Hell, when did the damn monster ever need an excuse to torture him? When did he ever need an excuse to make him cry and beg for mercy? When did he ever need the excuse to...?" Derrick clamped his hand over Samel's mouth, stifling the furious stream of words. "STOP IT. Just... stop it. Please." There was a faint quaver in Derrick's own voice, revealing his own distress and frustration with the situation. The page reached up and pulled away Derrick's hand, but didn't release it. He sagged against the older man and whispered, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It's just that... it makes me crazy. To know what's happening and to not be able to do a damn thing to stop it." He stared up at Derrick. "It's... it's not FAIR. Of all the people in the world, HE didn't do anything to deserve this!" "No, he didn't. Not at all." "Then what can we do about it!?" "Endure. We endure, the best we can, just as he endures." Samel said in a very small voice, "Does that mean... you've given up?" Derrick gave the boy a cold, feral smile. "Hardly. Endure. Survive. And wait...." The guard captain left the rest of the old mountain saying unsaid, but Samel understood him well enough. The young, red-haired boy took a deep breath, straightened up, and managed a calm, almost nonchalant tone. "Okay. So now what?" They both turned their attention back to the heavy wooden door, gazing at it with the same cold, angry stares. "He'll let us know when he's through... entertaining... himself. And then we go in and try to put the pieces back together the best we can." -------------------------------------- Kaylin briskly worked his way through the mail, picking out the interesting letters from friends and scholars while tossing the more trivial messages into a basket for his poor secretary to sort through. Skya drifted to his side and said in soft, meditative tones, "So while I'm here at Court, I must be collared or otherwise marked as a slave?" Kaylin released a soft huff of exasperation. "I warned you what the capital was like. Unfortunately, that's how things work around here. A unclaimed exotic is a very vulnerable exotic, and is considered to be fair game for any passing citizen who takes a fancy to him, her, or it. Slavery is the only security, if you can call it that, that an exotic has. And Korenthian law clearly states that all slaves must bear some sort of unmistakable and indelible indicator of their status." "Does it have to be... obvious?" "Hm?" Kaylin said, briefly distracted by a letter from an old classmate. "The mark of slavery. Does it have to be blatantly visible, for everyone to see?" "No. It could be as discrete or obvious as the owner wishes, as long as it's recognizable as a mark of slavery and not removable by the slave wearing it. Although most people prefer a highly visible mark because it helps to prevent unfortunate misunderstandings," Kaylin replied absently as continued to pursue his friend's letter. "So according to the Empire, a slave is a slave as long as it bears the mark of its owner, even if no one else sees or knows about that mark?" The odd flatness in Skya's voice caught Kaylin's attention. The prince slowly put down the papers in his hand and was just about speak when Skya, as swift as a striking viper, grabbed Kaylin's chin in a steely grip and slammed him back against the table until the prince's spine was painfully arched over the tabletop. "Well, you can't imagine how glad I am to know that," the exotic hissed viciously. "And since you wear the unmistakable and permanent badge of MY ownership, I guess that brands you as MY slave under your own precious laws, doesn't it, my precious prince!" And with those words, Skya tore loose the blocks he had imposed on Kaylin's memory and smiled malevolently as his slave remembered the truth. "....no...," Kaylin whispered brokenly. "No?" Skya lightly stroked his fingers over Kaylin's crotch and watched in cruel amusement as his slave writhed helplessly, a beautiful puppet dancing at his slightest command. "W-why...?" "Why am I doing this to you? Because you deserve it. And because I can." With the same controlled violence he used in grabbing the prince's face, he spun and flung Kaylin down onto his hands and knees, then ran a possessive hand over the buttocks so perfectly presented for his touch. The prince could utter all the denials he wanted. Kaylin's body knew the truth. "Then tell me what is this?" Skya slowly caressed the cleft between Kaylin's buttocks. There was no need to undress the prince. Mere fabric could not possibly shield or protect his slave from his master's hands. With his right cheek pressed hard against the floor, Kaylin uttered a choked cry of lust, pleasure, and despair hopelessly tangled together. Skya continued to stroke and play with Kaylin's crotch, secure in the knowledge that the prince-now-slave was utterly helpless under his hands. "Tell me what you wear inside your body, Kaylin." "Y-your... feather... Master...." "And what happens when someone wears one of my feathers?" Skya murmured as he slid a finger between Kaylin's legs. "As... as long as... I wear... your... feather...." "Yes...?" the exotic crooned encouragingly, as if coaxing a stubborn colt. He applied a little more pressure with his finger. ".... you... own... me." Kaylin gasped at the unwanted rush of pleasure, struggled against its seductive grip, and forcibly corrected himself. "....no... you may own... my body. Not... not me!" Skya leaned closer, his breath whispering over Kaylin's ear. He knew perfectly well how it stimulated the prince and drove him mad with desire. "Are you sure about that?" Kaylin nodded jerkily, panting and shaking in uncontrollable arousal. "Well, if you're so certain, why don't I remove it...." Skya plucked tauntingly at the waistband of Kaylin's pants. "No!" The word burst out of Kaylin's traitorous mouth before he could stop it. "So... you really enjoy wearing my feathers, don't you?" Skya said in amusement. "....hardly!" Kaylin gasped out bitterly, "I don't... want... that... that THING... inside me... but... but...." "But you need it. Or rather, your body needs it. Your body has become completely enslaved by its desires and utterly addicted to my power. You really should be more grateful for my generosity with my feathers and my body. Without them, you would suffer terribly, writhing on the ground, tearing at your own flesh, screaming in unbearable agony and lust. Not immediately, of course. No, the hunger will start slowly, then grow inside you. It's the itch you cannot scratch, the emptiness you cannot fill, the burning you cannot quench. Do you remember what that felt like?' "How can... I forget? You... remind me... of it... at... every... opportunity...." When he saw Skya's eyes narrow, Kaylin knew that he had gone too far. But before he react, Skya planted his hand firmly between Kaylin's buttocks, right above the feather lodged deep within his body. Power danced through those slender fingers, then arced into through clothing and flesh to touch the feather. It responded to the sudden influx of its master's power like a living thing, flexing and rippling wildly. Kaylin flung his head up and froze, his mouth gaping in a silent wail of both anguish and ecstasy. Not pain. Never pain. Pain would have been easier to handle, easier to resist. Skya only gave him pleasure, pleasure, and more pleasure. Horrible, exquisite, irresistable pleasure. Pleasure that had already stolen his own body away from him and continually threatened to do the same to his mind. Under Skya's merciless schooling, he had learned to both fear that pleasure and crave it. Kaylin's lungs cried desperately for air, but the pleasure's grip was too powerful. He was utterly paralyzed, unable to draw a single breath. Skya continued to punish him, battering him with unrelenting pleasure until his body could take no more. Some indeterminate time later, Kaylin awoke to find himself sprawled on the floor of his bed chamber, his muscles still quivering from the intensity of Skya's discipline. The exotic sat on a nearby chair, calmly grooming his wing feathers as he patiently waited for his slave to recover from his lesson. But by the time Kaylin managed to get his thoughts into some coherent order, his traitorous body had already crawled on hands and knees to its master. Unable to stop himself, Kaylin could only watch helplessly as his body grovelled abjectly at Skya's feet. And all the while, his mouth whispered repeated thanks for his master's 'kindness', then begged shamelessly for more. Skya reached out and grasped his chin almost tenderly. Kaylin grimly rode out the little spark of pleasure that gesture ignited in his body. "Really, why must you be so stubborn, Kaylin?" Skya's pale fingers brushed his cheekbone and left him shaking in the grip of overwhelming lust. He soon lost track of Skya's murmured admonishments as the exotic continued to tease his plaything. And as Skya's fingers touched and stroked the outside of Kaylin's body, the exotic's feather did the same from within, touching his most secret and sensitive places like the most perfect and cruelest of lovers.... ....so good.... Kaylin shuddered and concentrated desperately on his disgust and anger. He wanted to claw that cursed feather out of his body... rip it loose from his flesh and to hell with the consequences to life and sanity. Anything to make this seductive nightmare stop. But as soon as the thought formed, his body clenched its muscles, unwilling to lose the source of its pleasure. Only Skya could remove the feather. Only Skya could touch it. "....please... please... Master... please... anything... I'll do anything... for you... command me...." Kaylin heard himself moaning, mewing, begging for the opportunity to utterly abase himself, and passionately hated himself for doing it. Skya rose in a swirl of silk and moved over to the bed. He then beckoned for his slave. Kaylin's body responded instantly, displaying its eager submission by crawling to Skya on his hands and knees. Upon reaching the bed, he obeyed Skya's unspoken commands to strip and present himself. Once naked, Kaylin sank down onto the soft feather mattress and lay face down, his legs spread wide for his master's touch. Skya sat down beside him and slowly ran his fingers down Kaylin's spine. The prince dimly sensed a brief surge of power, then nearly fainted in sheer ecstasy as the feather inside him shifted and slid out of his ass just far enough to expose the tip of the shaft. He could feel Skya delicately placing his fingers on the shaft. He whimpered, his fingers digging into the soft pillows, as he tried to guess what his master would do with the feather. Take it out? Twirl it? Thrust it in and out? In and out... in and out... Just thinking about being so thoroughly and utterly violated made his mind melt with pure adoration and lust. The feather moved. The pleasure surged through him, drowning any thought of resistance. All he could think of was how GOOD Skya made him feel and how much he wanted to keep feeling that way. His hips roiled wantonly as the feather plunged in and out of him. "What's wrong, Kaylin? Is this feather fail to satisfy you? Do you want even more? Skya's words crawled inside his head and took over, twisting and warping his thoughts until all he could think of was how empty he felt. "No... not... enough... more... I need... more... please... more...," he moaned in abject misery. "Then should I give you another feather, Kaylin? Something larger and darker, to fill that emptiness inside you? I promise that this new feather will be more potent. It will make you feel more. Much, much more. And the more pleasure I make you feel, the more submissive you desire to be. Isn't that right?" his master said in his beautiful, irresistible voice. "Yes... oh yesssss... master... more... please... fill me... with your feather... your power... your will... give me more... of you!" Kaylin was dimly aware of the sound of rustling plumes as Skya ran his hands through his wings, searching for just the right feather. The brief respite allowed his mind to clear slightly and he somehow summoned up the willpower to choke out a faint, "no", even as his body wriggled and shivered in eager anticipation. "No? But I know you enjoy the touch of my dark feathers the most, Kaylin. Especially the black ones. Don't you remember?" The tip of Skya's left wing swept into his view. Kaylin's blissful haze abruptly evaporated as soon as he caught sight of the great opalescent black primary feathers. Oh yes, he remembered their touch. Those were the feathers that had broken him -- the feathers that had made Kaylin's own body utterly betray him for the sake of the pleasure they could give. He both hated those feathers and worshipped them. The feathers that had made him... made him... hurt.... ....no... not made HIM hurt... made him hurt... OTHERS.... Kaylin suddenly clutched at his head with both hands as physical ecstasy abrupt become drowned out by emotional horror. There was something important... something terrible... hovering just out of memory's reach.... But suddenly a swathe of green silk covered his eyes, blotting out the sight of Skya's wings. And when the terrible black pinions vanished from his vision, so did his anguish and fear. All that was left was the pleasure. As his wrists were secured to the headboard, Kaylin relaxed, feeling safe in his master's control. But he soon found himself fidgeting restlessly. His body wanted... no, craved to be touched. He moaned involuntarily as he felt Skya's cool hands sliding between his legs, along the exquisitely sensitive inner surfaces of his thighs, up toward his crotch.... He couldn't stop himself from bucking his hips upward, spreading his legs even wider. "Now, dance for me, my beautiful Kaylin." The master commanded. The slave obeyed. -------------------------------------- That evening, Derrick nodded to the guards on duty and continued down the hallway to Prince Kaylin's chambers, followed closely by a tense Samel. When he reached the bedroom door, he didn't bother knocking, but instead opened the now unlocked door and walked in. They were greeted with the sight of Skya sitting on a stool next to the bed, leisurely brushing out his floor length silver hair. As for Kaylin.... The naked prince lay in a wanton sprawl amid the tangled bedsheets. His hands were tied over his head and secured to the headboard with a silk scarf. Another scarf served as a blindfold. A thin trail of saliva seeped from the corner of his mouth and stained the pillow. Even as they watched, Kaylin shuddered, arched briefly in response to some unseen stimulus, then sagged back limply, gasping for breath. And in those gasps, Derrick heard a faint desperate cry for more, and the very next breath an equally weak plead for no more. His poor, tormented prince.... It took every bit of self-control Derrick had to keep his voice calm and even. "His highness has a busy day of meetings tomorrow. He needs his rest." The hairbrush never paused as Skya said, "I know. A bath, a few hours of sleep, and he'll be fine." "FINE." Derrick made the word sound like the most obscene of curses. "You think so?" Skya placed the brush on the bedside table and said, "When he wakes up, your darling prince won't recall any of... this." With those words, the exotic turned and delicately ran his slender fingers over Kaylin's lean, muscular stomach, then watched with amusement as the prince's body shook and trembled in the merciless grip of yet another orgasm. Derrick had no idea how many others Kaylin had forced to endure in the last few hours. Many people would view the ability to experience endless orgasms as a blessing, but in Kaylin's case, Derrick knew that it was a curse, a cruel one bestowed by Skya's foul sorcery for the sole purpose of breaking Kaylin's will. Samel had remained quiet, but Skya's last bit of petty cruelty was too much for him to bear in silence. "Stop it, you bastard," the page hissed furiously. "You've made your damn point back in Trience. You're the one in control. We all know it, so why do you keep torturing him like this!?" Skya gave them a dark, empty little smile. "He begged me so prettily for it. How could I refuse?" "Only because you made him do it! Just like you made him...!" Samel hastily clamped his mouth shut and shot a panicked glance toward Kaylin. Fortunately, the prince remained oblivious to his surroundings, completely lost in the sensations that overwhelmed his senses and dominated his body. A flicker of some undefinable emotion crossed Skya's face, then he shrugged and said coolly, "I'm glad you understand the present situation so well. In that case, we can hopefully spare everyone a repeat of that particular unpleasant incident." A voice from the doorway said coldly, "Oh yes. We all understand the matter perfectly." Skya inclined his head graciously. "Lord Korvid. I trust your investigations have been successful." "Partially so." The tall, golden-haired nobleman closed the door behind him and continued, "If you would be so kind as to wait in the sitting room, sir, I'll give you my report momentarily. I would like to tend to Kaylin's needs first. With your permission, of course." Skya nodded coolly and rose to his feet. With a languid wave of his hand, he murmured, "Take your time." But just before he exited the room, the exotic paused and turned back to the bed and its captive occupant. Korvid managed to maintain an air of calm, but Derrick and Samel tensed in visible agitation. Skya smiled, then reached between Kaylin's spread legs and lightly flicked a long, pearly fingernail against the shaft tip of the feather he had so recently slipped into Kaylin's body. As he had promised his slave, the new dark gray secondary feather was greater in both size and potency than the smaller pale gray plume that Kaylin had previously worn. Skya's seemingly careless gesture drove the feather even deeper into Kaylin's body. It completely disappeared from view, ensuring that it was both undetectable and irretrievable except by Skya himself. The resulting effect on Skya's victim was instant and devastating. The exotic languidly stepped back as Kaylin screamed and erupted off the bed, arching his back and bucking his hips wildly, as if frantically trying to escape or eject the unwanted intruder. For a seeming eternity, Derrick and the others could only watch stoically as Kaylin thrashed convulsively on the bed, unable to do anything to help their lord or provide any form of comfort. The exhausted prince finally went limp, struggling for air in desperate sobbing gasps. His point clearly made to all, Skya ignored the furious stares from the others and regally swept out of Kaylin's bed chamber. As soon as they were alone, Samel, Derrick, and Korvid converged on the bed. Korvid quickly removed the tear-dampened blindfold while the page worked on Kaylin's wrists. The prince's green eyes, now dull and clouded with the brutal overdose of pleasure he had just received, struggled to focus on them. Korvid gently brushed the sweat-soaked hair away from his friend's face and murmured, "It's over, Kaylin. It's over, for now." ".... Salazar... you... the others... are they...?" The prince stared blearily down at his own body like it was some mysterious and potentially dangerous alien artifact. "Didn't I...? I can't... remember...." "We're all fine. Nothing's happened to them or us." As Kaylin feebly clutched at Korvid's shirt, the nobleman added in soothing tones, "You didn't do anything." Kaylin uttered a soft sigh of relief, then fainted. Derrick scooped his lord off the bed and carried him off to the bathing room. Leaving Kaylin in Samel's anxious, but tender care, Derrick quickly returned to the bedroom to speak to Korvid. In a worried voice, Derrick said, "What brought that on? Did you think he's starting to remember about....?" "No. I don't think it's a specific memory, but rather a general anxiety. He knows he's brought a dangerous enemy right into the heart of his family. It's no surprise that he's half out of his mind with worry. And guilt." "If we could only warn somebody...!" Derrick growled in frustration. "But we can't. We can't betray or act against Skya in any way. He made damn sure of that." "So you tried." "And got absolutely nowhere," Korvid said grimly. "Skya may be insane, but must admit he knows his spellcraft." "Wonderful. We're all in the power of a crazed, revenge-obsessed mage." Derrick glanced toward the bathing room and lowered his voice, before continuing. "Do you think that bastard will try to force Kaylin to turn on his own family? The same way he made him....?" "I seriously doubt it. What Skya forced Kaylin to do to us... I think that it was more in the nature of an experiment. I don't know what sort of reaction he was expecting from Kaylin, but he certainly got much more than he intended." That was a major understatement. Korvid knew that he would never forget the sight of Kaylin's anguish as Skya compelled him to systematically assault and rape his closest companions. He would never forget how his friend had been nearly driven out of his mind with guilt, remorse, and grief, emotions which had been doubly and trebly compounded by the obscene ecstasy Kaylin had been forced to experience during the entire unspeakable ordeal. Kaylin has been perfectly aware of what he was doing, but utterly unable to stop himself. The physical rapes had been bad enough, but it was the other, more profound ways he had violated the people he cared for -- himself, Derrick, Samel, to name a few -- that had come within hairbreadth of destroying Kaylin's mind. Oh yes. Skya had gotten one hell of a reaction from his plaything. But something about Kaylin's extreme reaction had shaken the exotic badly. As for what happened afterwards.... He wasn't certain about the motivation behind Skya's surprising act of mercy. Perhaps it was a vague sense of guilt, or perhaps it was simply because Skya realized that an obviously crazed prince would be of no use to him. Whatever the reason, the exotic had made Kaylin forget the entire incident and seemed rather intent on making sure the incident stayed forgotten. On that point, Korvid and the others agreed completely. "How the hell did that bastard THINK someone like Kaylin would react in that situation!?" Derrick said angrily. Korvid snorted. "It's obvious that Skya never bothered to learn a damn thing about Kaylin before raping him with those...," he fought down the urge to snarl, "those damnable *feathers* of his. In his eyes, Kaylin's nothing more than a convenient tool. As an exotic, Skya knows that he needs a 'master' at Court to keep the other nobles off his back. Unfortunately for all of us, he's chosen Kaylin to play that 'master'. The higher ranking the owner, the better, and you can't do much better than an Imperial prince, can you? With Kaylin's 'protection', Skya's now has free access to most of the city AND the imperial palace." "And only the gods know what that feathered freak's up to! He could be planning to assassinate half the court and we can't do a damn thing to stop him!" "Unfortunately, that's true. For the moment. But as to your earlier question, I don't think Skya will force Kaylin to directly attack his own family. It's too risky. Kaylin may have forgotten what happened, but the wrong type of stress could revive all those memories. And if Kaylin remembers, there's a good chance that he'll become useless for Skya's purposes." "But if he wants to keep Kaylin 'functional', so to speak, then WHY does that bastard keep playing these sick games with his lordship? How many more of...," Derrick jerked his chin over toward the rumpled bed, "...THIS does he think Kaylin can take before completely breaking down?" he demanded furiously. "I am quite aware of the problem, thank you. A point that I'm going to discuss with our winged...'master'." "Do you honestly think that sadist is going to listen to you?" "I have to at least try." Korvid sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Although I don't know how successful I'll be. For whatever reason, I have this bad feeling that he won't -- or perhaps CAN'T -- leave Kaylin alone." -------------------------------------- As Samel bent to pick up a towel, a wet hand reached out and encircled his wrist. Startled, he turned to stare at his prince. Kaylin sat chest deep in the steaming water, shoulders hunched, with his expression obscured by the long damp hair falling over his face. "My lord...?" Kaylin's fingers twitched, then tightened fretfully on the page's arm. "... did I... hurt... you? Sometimes... I thought... I thought I heard you... someone... screaming...." He shuddered, sending little ripples through the bathwater. Samel quickly covered Kaylin's hand with his own and said, "No. Of course not." As he saw it, it wasn't really a lie at all. It was all that bastard Skya's fault. Kaylin shifted in the water, then stiffened with a gasp. His other hand slid deep between his legs, then hovered just above his crotch, trembling. In a sickened whisper, Kaylin said, "I... I begged... I begged him... to put this... inside... me. I... wanted it.... I... WANTED it... so badly... because... because... it made... it makes me feel... so good...." His eyes widened suddenly and glazed over, his breath snagging in his throat as the feather forcibly pleasured its unwilling host. Kaylin convulsively rocked his hips, then froze, trembling. "....no. I won't... let it... I won't... give... in...," Kaylin panted. Samel watched as his prince hung on the knife's edge, fighting desperately to resist the lure of mindless bliss and regain control his own body. Kaylin eventually succeeded, but they both knew that it was only a temporary and hollow victory. The slave would dance any time its master desired. Dropping his face into his hands, Kaylin whispered, "Stop... please... this nightmare... make it... stop...." Samel stared down at his lord's bare, exposed back. All it would take would be a quick, hard stab between the ribs, right into the heart. Between his years on the street and his training as a page, Samel knew exactly how to do it. Or perhaps one clean slash across the throat would be better. He had both the weapon and the skill. Either way, heart or throat, death would be nearly instantaneous. He would gladly become a cold-blooded murderer to spare his prince any more of this unspeakable humiliation and misery. One blow with his razor-edged dagger.... But it was one blow that he would never be able to land, no matter how much he wanted to. Kaylin wasn't the only victim of Skya's feathers. A little wisp of soft white down, planted deep inside him by Kaylin's unwilling fingers.... Such a small, barely noticeable thing, but that little tuft was more than enough to bind Samel to Skya's will. At least he and the others were spared Kaylin's cruel fate. For whatever reasons, Skya seemed content to leave them alone to carry out their usual duties, with two very important exceptions. First, they were unable to betray or act against Skya in any way. But it was the second part of the binding that was the most unbearable. They couldn't protect Kaylin from Skya. They couldn't interfere or stop the monster from doing whatever he pleased to their lord. They could help their lord, but only when and if Skya permitted. The exotic had demonstrated that very clearly when he had forced Samel and the others to stand by and watch as he tormented the prince without mercy. This evening's little show was nothing compared to some of the other scenes they had been forced to witness. Samel gulped and fought down the sick, roiling nausea those memories always evoked. It was just as Derrick said -- all they could do was clean up the mess and try their best to keep Kaylin together long enough for someone to figure a way out of this feather-lined helltrap. So instead plunging his dagger into his beloved prince's heart, Samel simply placed his arms around Kaylin's wet shoulders and hugged him. "If only I could, my lord." -------------------------------------- After Kaylin was quietly sleeping in a freshly made bed, Korvid entered the neighboring sitting room to find Skya examining the heavily laden shelves. "So many books, and in so many different languages." The exotic replaced the book he held and said, "Can he read all of them, or are they here simply for show?" "I don't know about all of them, but Kaylin speaks seven languages fluently and probably reads ten or more. I lost track when he was a teenager." Korvid gazed coolly at Skya. "As for owning things simply for show, Kaylin's not the type of person who needs pretty trinkets to prop up his ego. You wouldn't know that, of course." "And what's that supposed to mean?" Skya said lazily, running his fingers along a row of leather bound volumes. "Only that you never bothered to learn anything about the person you've enslaved and are now slowly destroying." "What's there to learn? He's an imperial prince, just the sort of person who would lust after and own a pretty exotic winged slave. That's all I need to know about him." Skya turned to glare at the impassive Korvid. "If you damn aristocrats treated all sentient beings with the respect and decency they deserve, your prince wouldn't be in this predicament. But no, you call us exotics and treat us like mere commodities. You hunt us down like wild animals, lock us up in your menageries, parade us around like toys, brainwash and/or abuse us for your own sexual gratification!" For an instant, Korvid's vision went red with pure fury. If he hadn't been bound by Skya's feather, he probably would have torn the stupid, hypocritical beast apart with his bare hands. That option being denied him, Korvid somehow managed to regain control of his temper and his breath. "I... see. So you're saying that what's happening to Kaylin is entirely his fault, just because he was born into the imperial royal family. It means absolutely nothing to you that he's probably one of the most loyal and caring individuals I've ever had the honor of knowing." Skya shrugged and turned away as if bored with the topic, but Korvid suspected that the exotic simply didn't want to deal with the fact that he was doing the exact same thing that he so righteously accused the Empire's nobles of doing. Wasn't Skya enslaving and now mercilessly abusing another sentient being? "I'm waiting for your report about Sorsha," Skya said impatiently. Korvid calmed himself and said, "In regard to your twin brother's whereabouts, we have confirmed that he is presently in the possession of the Grand Duke Markus. The Duke has been on an extended hunting trip in the southern mountains, but is due to arrive back at court tomorrow, just in time for the official presentation of the Trience surrender. As for the other matter...." "Yes?" A sudden chill seemed to settle in the room. "An investigator was sent to Markus' principal ducal estate." "And what did he find?" Skya inquired softly. "Your brother's wings. At the moment, the Duke has them mounted on the wall in his billiard room, over the fireplace." "He. Cut. Off. My. Brother's. Wings. And MOUNTED them. On his... wall?" "Yes, sir. In his billiard room. Above the fireplace." Korvid was perfectly glad to make the duke the main target for the exotic's anger. Markus was scum and perfectly fitted Skya's stereotype of the sadistic, debauched Korenthian aristocrat. Unfortunately, it was Kaylin who was suffering because of Markus' sick games. "When I felt the pain in my own wings, I knew something terrible had happened to Sorsha. In my nightmares, I kept seeing his bloody wings lying on the snow, but I had hoped...." Skya closed his eyes and hugged himself. Korvid felt absolutely no sympathy for the other man. Yes, he knew how traumatizing it was for a winged creature to lose its wings. Yes, it was a stupidly vicious thing for Markus to do. But that still didn't come *close* to justifying Skya's own actions, at least in Korvid's mind. "You said that Sorsha's your twin, but your wings are quite different in color," Korvid commented in a neutral voice. In a distant voice, Skya murmured, "They have changed... just as I have. As you and your prince are intimately aware of. Sacrifices needed to be made in order to accomplish my goals." The exotic suddenly turned, his pale blue eyes narrowing suspiciously. "How could you possibly be so certain about Sorsha's location? We only just arrived in the city this afternoon. There's no way you would've had time to gather all this information in a few short hours!" Korvid took a deep breath, then replied coldly, "True, but the search for your brother started three weeks ago." "What!?" "After hearing your story, Kaylin sent out a request to discretely locate Sorsha... two days BEFORE you stuffed one of your thrice-cursed feathers up his ass." "What, was he hoping to get a matched pair of exotics for his bedroom?" Skya shot back nastily. Korvid gritted his teeth. "Kaylin was trying to HELP you." "That's a likely story! Why don't you face the truth about your precious prince!? He only wanted to find Sorsha for his own selfish purposes!" The nobleman kept gritting his teeth and said nothing. Korvid could have given Skya numerous examples of how Kaylin had helped others, but it was obviously pointless. Skya was trying his best to pretend that Kaylin was just another cruel, selfish aristo. "And if he trying to help me, as you claim, why didn't he tell me about this earlier?" Skya snapped, his wings twitching in annoyance. "It probably slipped Kaylin's mind, although I can't imagine why a little sexual torture would do that," Korvid retorted. Skya gave him a long look, then said, "You really hate me, don't you?" "I hope you will pardon my candor, but 'hate' is a complete understatement for how I feel about you." The exotic stared at him, then said, "You must think me quite the monster." "I don't think. I KNOW you are." Skya look a bit startled by Korvid's bald statement, then shrugged impatiently. "I don't care what you aristos think of me, as long as you obey my orders." "Allow me to assure you that my companions and I are doing everything within our ability to satisfy your every whim. We are perfectly well aware that you won't hesitate to punish Kaylin if we don't perform to your satisfaction." "I'm glad that we understand each other." "May I speak freely?" "I thought that's exactly what you've been doing during this entire conversation, but proceed." "May I respectfully suggest that you do your best to refrain from torturing his Highness any further?" "Refrain? Why should I do that? Why should I show your prince any mercy, considering what you aristos have done to my brother and the rest of my family?" "I don't expect any sort of kindness or mercy from you, but perhaps you might be willing to restrain your vindictive impulses in order to protect yourself." "Protect myself from what?" "I would like to remind you that we are no longer in a backwater city like Trience. This is Vos Ren, the heart of the Korenth Empire and its seat of power. I'm not just talking about political or military power. Do you have any idea how many high-ranking mages, priests, witches, mystics, healers, and other sorts of adepts reside in the capital and frequent the Imperial Court? And let's not forget to mention the various spiritual and magical entities lurking about in the local temples and other places." "Your point being?" "If one of these adepts detects something wrong with Kaylin...." "As I've already demonstrated, I am perfectly capable of concealing my handiwork." "You've been successful... so far. Your magic may be undetectable. You might be able to block Kaylin's memories and make him behave normally. But if you continue your current rate of abuse, the traces of all this tampering are bound to show up in one way or another. Don't underestimate how perceptive these adepts can be." "Then I suppose I'll have to make sure that he stays away from them." Korvid shook his head. "That's not going to work. As a member of the Imperial family, Kaylin comes in regular contact with many of these individuals, simply as part of his social and political obligations. I should also mention that a goodly number of them are friends and/or relatives. Forcing Kaylin to avoid all of them will unquestionably raise a great deal of suspicion." Skya's eyes narrowed, then he said, "I would think that you would WANT people to find out about Kaylin's... condition... as well as your own." Korvid snorted and replied, "I'm under no illusions about what will happen to Kaylin if your schemes are discovered, nor do I underestimate the extent of your hatred and spite. You're not the sort to simply give up. No, you want your revenge at any cost. If someone tries to interfere with that desire, Kaylin's going to be the one who suffers for it. You've made that abundantly clear." Skya frowned thoughtfully. "I'll take your suggestion under consideration. You may go." -------------------------------------- As Lord Korvid headed back to his rooms, he went over his conversation with Skya, carefully analyzing all the possible implications and nuances. The exotic wasn't a fool -- that was clear from their very first meeting in Trience. But if that was the case, why was Skya *acting* so stupidly now? His obsession for revenge was consuming the exotic, blinding him to common sense and the consequences of his actions. Did Skya really think he could waltz right into the heart of the empire and the Imperial family, then plot their merry demise undetected? Did he honestly think he stood a chance against an Emperor who had been reigning for well over two thousand years and an Imperial family who measured the average lifespan of its members in centuries, if not millennia? The pathetic idiot had no idea what he was getting into. If anyone else had been Skya's victim, Korvid would have found the whole situation vastly entertaining to watch. But it was Kaylin who was Skya's helpless victim. It was Kaylin who at risk. It was Kaylin who would suffer terribly if anything happened to Skya. That changed EVERYTHING. The Emperor and the Empire would just have to fend for themselves. His only concern at the moment was taking care of Kaylin the best he could. It was his sworn duty to protect Kaylin and he had already failed that duty miserably by allowing his prince to fall victim to Skya's sorcery. Korvid expected to pay dearly for that failure and he fully deserved whatever punishment he received. It didn't matter that Skya's magic had been so insidious and well concealed. He still should have sensed or picked up *something*. That was part of his job and one that he had screwed up magnificently. He had been warned by his superior that Kaylin's kind nature would get the prince into no end of trouble. Then again, the Emperor was very rarely wrong about anything. -------------------------------------- Alone in the sitting room, Skya exhaled slowly as he stared into the fireplace. Korvid's suggestion made perfect sense. He wanted to attract attention at Court -- that was a major part of his plan -- but the last thing he wanted was to attract the WRONG type of attention. The prince was already his helpless and obedient prisoner, so there was no real reason to brutalize Kaylin any further. Except... except... he wanted to. He had broken an imperial prince, transforming Kaylin into a mindless, whimpering plaything utterly enslaved by its insatiable craving for pleasure. Kaylin's body was already his, and it wouldn't be long before he owned Kaylin's mind and soul as well. No one, not even a prince, could resist the power of his feathers for long. The experience of having such absolute power over another living being was unbelievably intoxicating. Who would not be tempted by the sight of a beautiful slave who cried and begged so sweetly for his master's touch? He didn't want to give it up. Why should he? Considering how the Empire's aristos constantly used and abused the so-called exotic races, it was only fair that one of those arrogant nobles had a taste of slavery. Even so, he hadn't intended to traumatize Kaylin so badly. He had only wanted to teach Kaylin who was the master and who was the slave, but the demonstration had gone badly awry. How could he have predicted that an imperial prince would care about anyone else's welfare besides his own? But to his amazement and shock, Kaylin had cared, and about mere servants, no less. Skya hastily reassured himself that appearances were deceiving. Underneath the prince's charming, courteous, friendly facade, he would surely find the same despicable rottenness in Kaylin's heart that all the other Korenthian nobles had. Yes, that was it. The prince was simply better at hiding his cruelty and selfishness. And for Kaylin's servants, they were fools who willfully blinded themselves to their lord's true nature. But in that case, why this uneasiness, this niggling sense of... guilt? Unsettled by his thoughts, Skya hastily concentrated on his brother. The mental image of his brother's torn wings, stuck on the wall like some filthy game trophy, helped to strengthen his resolve to rescue his brother and punish those he considered responsible. In order to accomplish these goals, he had delved into the forbidden knowledge of his ancestors and struck terrible bargains. He had received the power he needed, but it had not come cheap. His wings, once as gorgeously white like Sorsha's, were now touched with darkness. And occasionally, in his more insecure moments, he had the unnerving feeling that the darkness on his wings was spreading. Skya stared hard at his wings and sternly told himself that he was being fanciful. And so what if his fancy was true? If blackened wings and a stained soul were the price he had to pay to rescue his brother and destroy his enemies, he would gladly pay that price. He had worked hard for that power and paid dearly for it. Surely he was entitled to get some enjoyment from it. As long as he was careful, why shouldn't he continue to play with his slave prince? ------------------------------------------------- (end part 1) ===================================================================== ------------------------------------------------- Keeper of Duo's Dark Side ~~~ Duo no Seishi Saitoh no Koibito ~~~ Corruptor Extraordinaire ------------------------------------------------- madamhydra@aol.com /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/:E http://www.madamhydra.net/ ------------------------------------------------- ===================================================================== The Full Disclaimer This original work is considered to be the sole property and copyrighted to the author. =====================================================================