Mainstream Deviation

MAINSTREAM DEVIATION
CHAPTER FIVE: CRUEL AND UNUSUAL

Title: Mainstream Deviation
Rating: NC-17
Genre: Sci-fi, drama
Warnings: bondage, violence, punishment, sexual content (we’re finally getting into it, fellows).
Disclaimer: Mine. Miiiiiine. My preeeeeecccious.

*....* denotes flashbacks


This is what it all came down to, the one moment that all disciplinarians came to dread beyond anything else. It was the moment when the master must be confronted in order to right a terrible or grievous wrong on the part of their pet or child. It was always the hardest part of the job for Waif, this nasty little tattling that he was obligated to carry out that Rurik might choose an appropriate punishment. That was the clincher, actually. Waif hated the very idea that his little ward would be punished for errant behaviour and hated even more that he might be too for allowing the child to act out in such a decidedly wayward fashion. What a jolly mess this was. The albino man winced at his own thoughts and tightened his hand around the cane he had retrieved from the garden in order to aid Pochi.

Perhaps even worse than the thought of punishment was the fear of the look Rurik’s face would have…that horrible, bone-chilling, heart-breaking look. Waif wondered tensely how his master even managed an expression so utterly surreal and threatening. He could picture the eyebrows drawing together on that darkly tanned brow in a look of pure thought, the mouth pursing to demonstrate pure menace. That part of the visage was enough to stop even the redoubtable Waif dead in his tracks, the part that could turn blood to sludge in the veins like mud. That wasn’t the least of it, however, and in truth it got much, much worse. Fear was one emotion and Waif could handle one extreme emotion at a time, but Rurik was not an easy man and thus never made things easy for the hired help. Along with his furies he could invite supreme sorrow, anguish burning in his ruby eyes at the very thought of having to pass judgement on another, especially his valued little Pochi.

Hovering outside the door with his own brow furrowed, his slender fist resting gently against the elegantly carved wood, Waif allowed himself a little further thought in order to stall the inevitable. As much as those remarkable emotions tended to terrify Waif, they attracted him as well, like a moth to the proverbial flame. His master was more fascinating and intricate than any maze that Daedelus could have possibly crafted sequestered away as he was. It was filled with beasts far more frightening than any minotaur and the maidens that hid away in his gentlest thoughts could shame any sacrificed to the evils within. In a way, Waif enjoyed perusing the snippets of that deep labyrinth whenever his master deemed it fit to show him and perhaps that was what kept him around.

Heaving a deep, worried breath, the Disciplinarian tucked the cane away in his belt before picking his knuckles up from the cool wood where they had rested and bringing them down with a soft crack upon the same surface. To his troubled ears, the small sound roiled like a thunderclap and he winced, listening to it die in the air. For a long moment the hallway was silent in the wake of the knock before an ominous, familiar voice broke the stillness.

The dulcet, imposing tones of Mr. Rurik Maksim echoed from within, businesslike and professional, cold, “Enter.”

Waif swallowed thickly at the voice like a death sentence and opened the door, stepping in and standing out like a ghost in the semi-darkness of the office, “It’s me, Master.”

“Of course it is. Don’t think I’m not privy to the calamity that occurred earlier today. The unwanted commotion outside my door at precisely 3:48 pm was enough to alert me to unnatural goings-on. I suppose you are here to report the infraction and to see what punishment I dole out?” Maksim looked up at his employee with those glittering jeweltone eyes, a baltic frost seeming to radiate from their depths, not waiting for his reply, “Well what is it then? Did an ichorwyrm get into the halls? Did Jorvis have another epileptic fit in the kitchen?”

“It was…your new slave…and your son.” There it was. Waif felt all of his muscles tense up as he delivered the news and waited for the silent storm that would assuredly follow.

For a moment the room was still, Waif barely daring to breathe as he noted the complete lack of movement from his employer. Not a muscle twitched in the other man’s face as he sat in his leather desk chair at the end of the room, his dark, slender hands folded in front of his mouth and his elbows resting on a cherrywood workspace. His head was tilted forward so that the platinum blonde, silken fine hair fell to conceal his eyes from his subordinate, not giving away a single emotion to the other. As cliché as it was, you could literally cut the tension in that room with a knife as Waif waited anxiously, but silently for Rurik’s judgement.

The silence perpetuated until the calm-looking albino felt ready to burst inside when finally a soft, dangerous voice issued out from behind the folded hands, “…Explain.”

That much Waif felt he could do and he launched into the narrative carefully so that he wouldn’t agitate Rurik any further, his voice calm as though he hadn’t been ready to die on the inside just moments before, “Your son went into your room in order to examine Haru further. Apparently, Haru has still not had a chance to settle in and he grabbed Pochi’s wrist…or at least that’s how they were when I found them. I was afraid the boy would break your son’s wrist so I struck him once with this.”

As the cane was set on Mr. Maksim’s desk with a soft click, Waif could detect ruby eyes following his every movement. The silence continued so the Disciplinarian went on, “Your son displayed verbal agression towards me concerning my punishment of Haru before we parted and I came to inform you.” Waif’s voice died off and the silence enveloped the room like a stifling cocoon again.

Rurik reached forward and lifted up the can to examine it, giving Waif a good look at his boyishly handsome features twisted into the very expression that the subordinate had been dreading. Only somehow today that look was more terrifying and more heart-wrenching than ever it had been before. The fury was burning red hot across his face like a fiery brand but the sorrow in his eyes was unmatched by any anguish Waif had ever seen. That visage was like a maelstrom of pure feeling that threatened to drown the other man unless he looked away and soon. Wincing, the disciplinarian turned his head to the side with a light cough, hoping the slight flinch wouldn’t do anything to rouse Rurik any further. Goodness knew that things looked pretty bad as it was.

He swallowed softly and kept his head canted off to the side, “…your orders sir?” Gods…no one but Rurik could make him feel like such a frightened little novice. No one else ever could.

Rurik stood and slapped his hands down on the desk with an audible snap, his eyes closed as he raised himself ominously from his chair. Waif forced himself not to step back as his master straightened his clothes and opened those glittering ruby eyes, “You will make it known that Pochi is to go to his room and remain there until further notice. That is the only punishment you can reasonably give to a curious child. However…I will take Haru’s punishment into my own hands. See to it that I am not disturbed. You are dismissed.” The platinum haired angel made a shooing motion with an elegant flick of his wrist, informing Waif that he was to leave. NOW.

The pale albino made a hasty, but dignified bow before turning on his heel and striding out quickly into the hallway, stopping only to take a breath and calm his rapidly fluttering heart when he knew he was far away from that foreboding office. Waif placed a hand on his brow and gnawed his lower lip, hissing softly when he thought of the ramifications that accompanied Mr. Maksim’s decree. On the one hand he was glad that all Pochi would receive would be a slight confinement for one evening in order to pout, stew, and basically get it all out of his system. On the other hand…poor Haru! Waif knew what it meant when Rurik wanted to take someone’s punishment into his own deceptively slender palms and he shuddered to think about it. Of course he should have known that something severe was in stock for Haru for the crime of harming Rurik’s small son and yet…yet Waif had never seen his master get QUITE so riled. He wondered if there was something he was missing….ah but it was not his place as a servant to pry.

Feeling more his stoic self, Waif straightened out his tight-fitting sleeveless turtleneck sweater, smoothed the wrinkles out of his slacks and set off down the hall in order to find Pochi. With any luck the child would be calmed by now and willing to take his punishment with grace. Pochi was odd like that, very easygoing once his initial bouts of fury were over with. The Disciplinarian only hoped that Haru could be as flexible. He was going to need it…

The sunlight was fading fast, sinking into the horizon from what Haru could see through the tiny window that served as his only glimpse into the outside world. He could see the light as it died in the sky, turning from a sunny sort of blue to a blazing scarlet before eventually burning away into a twilight violet. The brilliant colors faded in his vision, softening to a pale orchid and at last deepening into the cerulean of the night sky. It was still that shade of deep blue now, not quite having faded into the starry black of the very late night. It was perhaps seven at the latest, many hours having passed since the fiasco with Maksim’s brat. God his wrist still burned from that. Damn the pale bastard for hitting him so blasted hard!!

For a moment Haru was tempted to burst out into tears again but he couldn’t even muster one little saline drop. It was like his internal well had gone dry, leaving him numb with no catalyst to stir even the most vague of emotions in his sorry head. It was like he was dead, only still awake as odd as that sounds. He pulled in his breath to heave a world-weary sigh when suddenly the door of his room clicked and swung open, causing him to choke on that breath rather than exhale it. The boy was forced to close his purple eyes as he wheezed on the breath gone wrong, coughing and hacking just a bit before he got himself back under control. If it was that kid again….

Unfortunately Pochi’s smiling, shining face was NOT the one that greeted him when he finally looked up and instead he found himself frozen by the baltic, emotionless glare of the child’s father, his new master. Rurik definitely looked a far cry from the distant business man who had received Waif in his office several hours prior to this little audience. Instead of tailored slacks he wore a pair of leather pants that rested on his sculpted hip-bones, almost cloying to his muscluar yet slender legs. There was nothing else upon his body save a leather belt thrown at a jaunty angle over his hips with a sinister looking crop in the holster. He seemed a wholly different man, gone from a cannibal of the office to a beast of the bedroom. His sanguine eyes held anger and the promise of dire punishment, the feral radiance of their depths pinning Haru squarely just like any glass encased butterfly. His appearance froze the entire room, casting it into a deathly still that dragged on as it had with Waif only this time his anger was directed specifically at Haru and the boy would feel it.

The hiatus dragged until Haru felt himself burst and, unlike the professional Waif, he had the unfortunate flaw of not knowing when to keep his mouth shut, “The hell do you want? If you’re just going to stand there and stare at me, then I’m going to sleep.”

Just as he turned over to do just that in an attempt to ignore that penetrating glare, he felt a vice-grip tighten hard around his bicep, surely leaving bruises. A sibilant, hard voice whispered against the curved shell of his sensitive ear, “The hell you’re going to sleep. You misbehaved today and if I recall, I specifically ordered you to be good. What’s more is that you harmed a child. MY child. That warrants some special punishment. You’re in for a LONG night.”
Rurik didn’t even smirk when he saw that his words had the desired effect on his errant little slave, Haru crying obsenities out of fear and jerking hard against that grip. No. Rurik was far beyond feeling any pleasure because of this and the normally hot, kinky scenario of ‘crime and punishment’ was dead serious for tonight. There was something deep in the Deviant Viral’s brain that had been triggered by Haru Kanzaki’s flagrant disobedience and unwarranted attack earlier that day that made him absolutely wild. For odd reasons unknown to any but his own subconscious, Rurik actually felt betrayed by Haru’s behaviour. Shaking off the thoughts, the man raked a hand through his silken platinum blonde locks before grabbing ahold of two pairs of handcuffs that had been draped by the crop on his belt. It was time to get this over with whether Haru was ready or not.

The little singer yelled and struggled as Rurik suddenly pounced like a tiger and pinned him down to the bed, holding his hips hard with powerful thighs. Meager struggles from the smaller boy caused his silver ankle cuff to dig hard into flesh and cut, drips of blood oozing from the skin to stain the bed. If anything, the scent of the blood only mildly excited Rurik, demonstrating further his absolute and unshakeable resolve. His unnaturally strong, slender hands snatched up Haru’s wrists, fighting him and eventually handcuffing him face-up on the bed. The position Haru was now in looked direly uncomfortable, his arms stretched tightly so that he was forced to arch his back up off the bed, unable to squirm into a fetal position thanks to the chain that bound his bloody ankle. Seemingly from nowhere, the dangerous Mr. Maksim produced a slender, dangerous looking knife and with it he shredded the meager clothes that Haru had been forced to wear into ribbons. Once the garments were sufficiently displaced, the knife was tossed idly away, but certainly not forgotten by its victim.

The cold voice of Mr. Maksim cut across Haru’s panic like the reaper’s scythe, “There. I think that is sufficient to gain your attention. Do you realize that this isn’t a game now, little boy?”

Haru cursed at him and spat, “You fucking bastard! You fucking mutated bastard! I don’t have to be nice to some filthy half blooded brat of yours!!”

A dark chill fell over the room and Rurik moved back so that his face was unreadable, obscured with shadows, “…You little bitch. How dare you say that!!” The crop whistled out of its holster and landed squarely on Haru’s stomach, dragging a squeal from the boy before that angry voice bit out again like the bite of a serpent, “How DARE you say something so callous and cruel. HE would have never said anything like that!!” Another whistling blow, this time on Haru’s thighs.

The bound boy let out a louder squeal as the hard blow welted his thigh and drew a small thread of blood, red, hot and sticky. Growling in annoyance, his composure slowly being eaten away by something far more dark and feral, Rurik tore a strip from one of the sheets with a loud fabric ripping noise, using it to bind around Haru’s head, effectively shutting away most of the louder cries. With that done and the cloth chaffing against his captive’s mouth, Rurik rained a quick series of blows all down the youth’s front starting at his collarbone all the way down to his protruding hip bone, growling in satisfaction as scarlet drops of life fluid oozed, tearing up at every impact. Each blow was harder than the last as though he intended to flay the very hide from Haru Kanzaki’s small bones. Oh and Mr. Maksim was a clever master of torture if he was anything, his skill seeming unmatched in the art of punishing those he deemed wayward. None of his blows fell too quickly, each falling several seconds after the sting of the last had faded, but not giving enough of a reprieve for recovery. Each blow was fresh and new, waiting to announce itself with a sudden and unrivaled brutality that wounded the mind as well as the body.

Master rained hellfire down on his slave in the form of a braided leather crop, hissing out deadly accusations even as the boy screamed against the cloth (now stained pink from blood and saliva that oozed from his mouth after he’d bitten his lip) and twisted in his bonds. That very same squirming caused the flesh in the manacles to tear wide open, the precious crimson fluid falling to the bed in a steady stream until huge splotches on the sheets began to dry brown and crusty. Haru moaned in agony, his voice too raw to continue trying to force screams out from around his stained gag and he no longer struggled, merely twisted and shivered in misery as the crop continued to fall. His ears burned from the words that spilled from Rurik’s lips, words that condemned him and seemed to vindicate some unknown party that had once been very special to his master. Why was his punishment so much worse because of how good one man in the past had been? What did he have to do with any of this? The boy whimpered absently and felt his eyes about to roll back in his head, blackness swimming at the edge of his vision when the bloodloss began to overwhelm him.

A sharp slap brought him mercilessly back to reality and he almost screamed in disappointment until his eyes were captivated by something else. The crop had stopped in its biting motions and now Mr. Maksim stood some feet away from the bed, his hands busied at something, the crop forgotten on the floor. The deft, powerful fingers unhooked the belt which rested upon his hips and the thing hit the ground with a clank, the buckle striking against tile. Haru had no time to ponder the implications of that before Rurik’s hands began to worry at the buttons on his leather pants, undoing them and pushing the article of clothing off until he was gloriously nude. The normally bronze skin of the Deviant looked almost copper in the bright light of the growing moon and his eyes glinted like fiery rubies in the half-light. There was something wicked in their depths that spoke of a horror deeper than pain. It was the unmistakeable glint of lust. It seemed that the punishment was far from over and Haru knew it, expressing his fear with wide eyes and whimpered protests from around his cloth gag.

If Rurik understood the signs that Haru was giving him, the obvious misgivings and terror, he chose not to acknowledge them. His mind was purely in another world right now, a world of vengeance and sadism unknown to mortal men. Rurik thought himself wronged and he sought to correct this grave grievance immediately through assertion of the most primal dominance known to animal kind…the dominance that flowed through his veins and caused his manhood to stand at full attention in the darkness. For a moment the entire scene of the bedroom stilled in time until it resembled a painting of the utmost basic, gutteral scenes one could ever witness. Lo, there stood the predator, his limbs flexing powerfully in stillness as he regarded his prey, the lone deer laying prone and bleeding to the very last, knowing that it was doomed, but not acknowledging the fact that fate stared it in the face. It was a still life painted in breathing oils on an ever-shifting canvas.

Then all at once the stillness of the scene was shattered like eggshell china falling upon the most unforgiving of cement as Haru began to struggle and scream around the fraying pink gag that bound his mouth in some semblance of closed. His chains rattled and clinked crazilly as he thrashed blindly, his eyes no longer seeing as he flailed his head back and forth wildly, the whites of his eyes prominent as his pupils and irises rolled back into his head. That was it. Those screams…those wild attempts to free himself…they were a catalyst. They were all that was needed to send the copper-skinned predator stalking smoothly across the room towardst he bed, pouncing upon his prey with a ridiculously remarkable ease. His muscles rippled like serpents beneath water as he situated himself above the squirming, screaming singer on his bed, the Deviant’s manhood standing long and proud like an avenging blade.

“For betraying his memory I’ll break you, little boy. I’ll ride you like an ill-tempered pony and I’ll teach you who your master is.” Mr. Maksim hissed out like a serpent between his clenched teeth, “You may not have his kind heart…but I hope you’re as good a lay as he was.” The bitterness in that voice could have curdled milk.

Through his haze of abject terror, Haru could find it in his mind to question who the man was that his new master ranted about in such a fanatical fashion…until IT happened. When the bulbous head of Rurik’s penis ripped dry into him his mind went bright white and he whimpered, biting his cheek so hard that it bled afresh in ruby spurts. Ruby to match the eyes of the demonic man who was staring down at him in hatred and love, his manhood hilted inside of Haru’s virgin flesh. Haru turned his eyes away in misery, screaming out shrill around the gag when Rurik began to move, his whole body rippling with the effort to shove his engorged self into the tiny, dry hole of his slave’s anus. The strain was great upon him and he levered his body up into a push-up position below his prostrate Mainstream slave before the rush towards climax began. Pure lust thrilled through Rurik’s veins as his hips began to move, pistoning in and out of Haru, faster and faster, harder and deeper like some insidious machine. This wasn’t making love. This wasn’t even sex. This was out and out fucking.

Frozen as he was beneath the groaning, grunting Deviant, Haru could only watch as if from another world as his body was violated, rocked for and aft on Rurik’s shaft like some sort of sacrifice to a hedonist god. He couldn’t even find it within him to whimper or to cry at his situation. No. Everything was cold now. Cold and numb. The violet-eyed singer could vaguely feel the pain wrenching through his body with every stroke and he was minimally aware of how the sheets bunched beneath his body everytime Mr. Maksim’s hips pounded up mercilessly against his own. Despite the fact that he could feel every so slightly, Haru’s sense of time was skewed greatly, his violation lasting forever and not at all in the bleak corners of his wounded psyche. It seemed to surreal to be true and yet it went on so unmercifully that it seemed to be an eternity until at last, with a final cry of triumph, Rurik spilled his blistering essence into the wounded cavities he occupied.

Haru dared to turn his face towards his captor and so too did Rurik deem the same…and it was in this instant that they knew their folly. The very moment that softest pastel lavender met deepest ruby red, the world stood still once more. All of time seemed to cease in its very existance as the smugness of victory fled the sanguine orbs of Maksim upon viewing the utterly serene despair of Haru’s own eyes. Something touched Rurik then…something from long in his past that he had never quite been able to forget…

*A voice, usually so full of teasing delight, now full of despair and resignation filled Rurik’s ears, “Protect him, Ru. Do it for me? I need this promise more than I have ever needed your touch in my whole life.” Dark violet eyes beseeched him from the confines of a photograph of happier times…*

Rurik let out a choked sob and pulled out of Haru with a swiftness that wounded the boy once more, “Oh god…oh god what have I done?”

The blonde singer could only watch dimly as his suddenly leery, utterly remorseful attacker drew swiftly across the room, yanking on a robe absently out of habit although his hands seemed much more inclined to hide his own face from the world. It seemed that for once the powerful, unflappable Deviant was quite out of his element, fidgeting like mad and pacing like a condemned man. He looked very near the fringes of a nervous breakdown but Haru was too weak to comprehend what this could possibly mean. Those who might very well be bleeding to death usually don’t have the mental capacity to ponder such greater things. As his vision began to swim, he was aware of a shaking hand brushing the hair from his face and the slam of the bedroom door.


A/N: Ha! Finally finished this little bastard. Sorry it took so long, but my inspiration kind of flew out the window in the midst of college hassle…besides I promised myself that this one would be longer than 50KB and I achieved my goal! *sighs* I know the sex scene is short, but this story isn’t about the sex…the sex just happens to be a part of it. Review, and I might be inclined to get the next chapter up quickly!