Enigma Nocturne

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Part Seven.


Jore’s face reddened and he nodded slightly, and Mr. Nairicks patted his head. “I’ve only let you down from there because I trust you not to run. I know you are smarter than that. You know what would happen to you if you were to try to escape.”

Jore swallowed, and nodded again. “Yes, sir.”

“Will you risk wounding my trust, Jordan?” Jore’s captor asked, putting a slight emphasis on the more violent verb.
Jore shivered as he caught the implications. “No… definitely not, sir.”
The Headmaster nodded thoughtfully. “And will you do as I say?”
Jore stared at the cold, concrete floor. “Yes, sir.”
Mr. Nairicks paused, then commanded, “Call me Headmaster.”
“Yes, Headmaster,” Jore answered quietly.
“Actually, I don’t like how that sounds… hmm.” He thought for a moment, then said, “Look at me.”
Jore looked up into Mr. Nairicks’ steel eyes. They weren’t devoid of emotion now; an eerie, hollow light shown in them, which Jore couldn’t place… or maybe he just didn’t want to.
“Call me… Master,” the Headmaster commanded softly. Jore flinched as the light glinted in his captor’s eyes.

“Yes, Master.”

Mr. Nairicks smiled, and Jore turned his head away, chills running down his spine. Part of him was terrified, and knew that this was very bad. But along with his fear, he also felt a sense of happiness at being the recipient of the Headmaster’s praise; being the one that caused that smile. But his mind was a jumble of so many feelings… so many and thoughts, emotions, and fears… and there was a new sense in the mix now. A sense of solidity… a light in the confused dark. In a way, the authoritative figure of the Headmaster in Jore’s mind soothed him. It was something to hold onto, something that, even if it meant more painful, scarring experiences, might sort out his emotions. The attraction he felt was there, undeniably, and it was strong. And although Jore hated himself for it, right now he needed to be controlled, because in that way he would have some control over himself; even if only in the darkest parts of his mind.

Mr. Nairicks knelt before his prisoner, and Jore flinched and looked up in fear as he felt a hand slide around his tender ribcage gently. The Headmaster leaned down close to him, and suddenly Jore was helpless to resist as he was pulled upward slightly and Mr. Nairicks’ lips closed over his.
The kiss was surprisingly gentle, and Jore was thankful for that for a fleeting moment. But it was cold, and Jore tried not to whimper as the Headmaster’s tongue brushed against his. Then the kiss became slightly forceful, Mr. Nairicks was demanding more, and Jore timidly opened his mouth slightly wider, and felt the Headmaster taking advantage of it.

It didn’t hurt, but the cold of Mr. Nairicks lips, and even his breath as he finally pulled away, were chilling. Jore panted quietly and cursed in his mind. He was still naked, and that kiss hadn’t exactly been a cold shower, despite its temperature. As soon as Jore felt the Headmaster’s arm release him as the captor stood back up, Jore dropped back from his knees to sitting on his side, and leaned over his lap to hide himself.

“Don’t be embarrassed, Jordan,” Mr. Nairicks urged softly. He paused, and then Jore was surprised to see the Headmaster sit on his knees on the concrete floor and rest a light hand on Jore’s shoulder. “This must all be frightening and confusing, Jordan, but I assure you that I’m not going to hurt you.”

Jore highly doubted that his torturer’s words were true, but he decided to go along with the ruse… his other options had long vanished. “Really?” He asked hopefully, and looked up slightly.
Mr. Nairicks’ soft expression flickered to a frown for a moment at the fact that Jore hadn’t called him Master, but then the smile returned. “Yes, my pet, I wouldn’t lie to you,” he said convincingly, patting Jore’s shoulder nicely.

Jore shuddered at what his new Master called him. And he didn’t believe his words… he was an abusive psychopath. And no doubt a sociopath. Nothing he said could be believed… but especially now, Jore so wished that it could.

“I know what you’re thinking, pet,” the Headmaster said, and put on a look of sad disappointment. “You don’t believe me. That’s too bad.”
Jore felt himself falling for this game. But he couldn’t, not now. He had planned to go along with it, pretend he believed his torturer, but inside he would know the truth. He would keep that strength. “No, Master,” he said, glancing up at his captor. “I …I believe you.”
“Really, pet?” Mr. Nairicks said, putting on a hopeful smile. For a moment, he almost looked human.
“Really, Master,” Jore said, and forced himself to smile just slightly. Then he was suddenly pushed to the ground, and he felt a cool hand on his thigh and another on his chest. The Master was smiling warmly, lying next to his pet, slightly over him. Jore felt the panic of helplessness start to edge into his mind, but then, strangely, his Master’s voice calmed him.

“It’s alright, my pet, I won’t hurt you. Please, let me help you,” he said, his hand petting Jore’s thigh.
Jore remembered that only minutes ago, his Master had cast away his pleas for help and laughed at him, his voice dripping in uncaring darkness.
Was this time any different? Was this fake actually the ‘real’ Headmaster?
“May I, pet…?” Mr. Nairicks asked, and Jore was shocked.
“W-what?” Jore whispered, amazed. The Headmaster’s hand on his chest petted him comfortingly, and the hand on his thigh was inching upwards. Jore’s body was starting to ache.

“May I pleasure you, my pet?”
Jore’s mind raced at the question. His Master was asking him for… permission? Of course he didn’t want those cold hands touching him! It sickened him. It was terrible… it was…
Suddenly, Jore felt like he wasn’t as sickened as he thought… and he realized couldn’t deny himself anymore. This fake Headmaster’s actions were… very… stimulating. Jore was caving in to his desire… But what choice did he have?

“Um… yes, Master,” Jore said, and hoped he wouldn’t regret it.
“Wonderful, pet,” The fake Headmaster said softly, and his hand slid up to Jore’s arousal. Jore gasped and closed his eyes as an only slightly cold hand closed around him and caressed him, moving perfectly. Jore had no space in his mind to wonder how his new Master knew how to pleasure him so well. Mr. Nairicks fingers added in teasing nuances and touched him just right, and soon Jore found himself gasping and squirming in pleasure.

And then, suddenly, he felt great fear… fear that he would be denied again, fear of a second rejection… of not being able to release this immense tension. Would this fake Headmaster turn the tables on him again, right at the crucial moment?
“What are you waiting for, my pet?” the Headmaster asked in a whisper, his breath cascading over Jore’s neck, followed by a few kisses.

“Master… I… I…” Jore began between gasps, but he couldn’t get the words out.
“Oh, my dear pet,” Mr. Nairicks said tenderly. “You’re scared that I won’t let you.”
Jore nodded frantically. Yes, he was scared. He was terrified, and he couldn’t take another period of deprivation.

But then something in Jore told him that that wasn’t the thing he had to tell his Master. There was something else. Something the sane part of his mind was denying.

The Headmaster kissed his cheek. “I know you’re ready, pet, why won’t you…?”
And then Jore suddenly realized what it was. He couldn’t finish… not without his Master’s permission. He realized that all this time, he had been kidding himself. He had no power. None. And in this moment, a part of him was profoundly sickened as it realized that the rest of him didn’t care in the least. And maybe even liked it that way. And so he heard himself beg.
“M-master… I have to… please, can I… can I…?”

Mr. Nairicks leaned over him more, and kissed his lips tenderly. “Yes, pet, do it now, for me.”
“M-master…!” Jore’s broken voice choked out as his back arched, and he was thrown into the most powerful completion he had ever experienced. His Master’s lips kissed his gently and calmed him, and then Jore was returning the tender kiss before he realized it. As Mr. Nairicks broke away, Jore opened his eyes slightly and panted, totally exhausted. He watched as his Master lifted up the hand he had used, and licked one of his fingers, an action which made Jore shudder, his flushed face growing even more red. His master smiled, and Jore was too tired to wonder if the expression was fake anymore.

Jore smiled back slightly, and then he blinked in surprise as the Headmaster’s hand slid under his nude form and picked him up effortlessly, bride-style, and walked towards one of the bookshelves. Jore’s tired mind only vaguely wondered what was going on, and he wasn’t very alarmed when Mr. Nairicks pulled a book away from the wall, something clicked, and then the whole bookcase slid sideways silently, revealing a black-tinted glass door. Jore was slightly shocked, and got a little scared as the Headmaster opened the door to a space of pitch-black darkness, and then stepped through it. Jore glanced over his Master’s shoulder as he closed the door behind him and the faint light from the other room was shut out as the bookcase slid back into place.

The room was initially surprisingly warm, but entirely devoid of light, and Jore started to feel more than a little scared as his Master walked further away from the door.
“Pet, I can feel you shivering,” Mr. Nairicks said quietly. “Now, don’t be scared. I promise you… you’re the first person, besides myself, to ever be in this room.”
Jore wondered what was going on. “Where am I, Master?”

The Headmaster hummed softly and stopped walking, then turned, and Jore felt himself being lowered, then he was lying on a soft surface. He opened his mouth to say something as his Master’s hands began to pull away, but then the sudden lack of contact from those powerful hands sent a sharp shard of fear into his mind. He instantly started breathing faster, and he curled into a ball. Was he alone now in the darkness? What was happening?

“Master… I-I’m scared,” he whispered into the blackness, and prayed that he would be answered.
“I’m right here, pet,” the Headmaster’s voice said from behind him.

Jore turned in the direction of his Master’s voice.
“Where… where…?” he asked frantically, finding that he was lost in despair without that knowledge.
“You’re lying on my bed, in my private chambers. I’m right here beside you,” the Master said, and Jore felt a soft, heavy blanket cover him. It smelled like his Master. Jore buried his face in it and inhaled, all of his fear melting away. He was warm, safe, and content.

Soon, Jore’s breathing became more even, and then he was in a deep, comfortable sleep.


The Headmaster smiled in the darkness and listened as his prisoner’s breathing steadied.
“Get some rest, Jordan,” he whispered. “You’re going need it tomorrow.”

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