When Remy ended the kiss, I gave a tiny whimper. Smiling cheerfully, he said, "Mon choit. My pet. Did you miss me?"

I blinked and unbelievably, I nodded.

He brushed my lips again. "Shall we celebrate my return den?" I nodded again.

"Turn around, cher." I looked at him nervously, wondering if he was going to take me here. But he smiled and said, "Go on, mon petite. I only want to look at you, my prize."

I inhaled nervously and turned around. Why wasn't I fighting him? I couldn't feel the warmth anymore. The power. He'd withdrawn it. But I didn't fight. Alex. It was Alex, I realized. I had to protect him. I had to stay and obey and make sure he survived.

When I'd turned away from him, Remy took my buttocks in his hand and began to examine my ass. He massaged it thoroughly, running a finger along the crack, pushing in at the tight puckered opening. I gasped and tried not to step away. My cheeks clenched down on his fingers. Then he withdrew the finger and slapped me hard on the right cheek. Startled, I began to step away, but he caught my shoulder.

"Did I tell you to move?" Remy growled. I stopped.

Swinging me around to face him, he said, "You're mine, Scott. You'll do only what I ask. You may not like it now, but in time, cher, you will."

Remy took my hand, once again turning the charm on me. Then he led me through the palace to his suite of rooms. I stayed under his influence until we reached his bedroom. This kept him in control. I might have tried something, had I been thinking clearly. I might have been able to kill him as we walked through the castle, up and up, staircase after staircase, down a corridor, a turn, then another and another until we reached the very top where he resided. The place was a virtual maze. I might have bolted, getting lost in the hallways and rooms, trying to escape out of fear and loathing. At that moment I didn't loath him. I was under his spell. Which ensured he needed no escort. This was his time alone with me.

Finally, at the very pinnacle of his citadel, we reached his private suite of rooms. An elaborately carved wooden door marked the entrance. Dark cherry wood with angels and saints in bas relief. A throw back to his Catholic heritage, I imagined. I gazed at it in fascination, completely lost in the sensation of his power, as he punched a private code into a tiny key pad near the handle of the door. When he took my hand again I started in confusion and looked down as if burned by his touch. Remy smiled and I was lost in that smile. His red eyes seemed to glow, entrancing me deeper into the warmth he projected, so tender, so loving.

He said nothing, just led me through the doorway down a long dimly lit hallway. We immediately passed a slave room, where a small retinue of housekeeping slaves stayed to keep Remy's living quarters in order and to wait on his mundane needs when he was in residence. Just past this room large exquisite paintings and tapestries lined the walls. Renaissance paintings and religious themes, ancient pastels of meadows and forests, women and children laughing and playing along the shores of small lakes. Murals of days long past. Old works that must have been worth the cost of a small country. It was a wonder I noticed this art work at all, I was so far gone in his power.

We past three more doorways open to view. One was a small bedroom and I blinked when I thought I saw toys on the floor. I shook my head in disbelief, but then we were passed the room and I lost the thought as we moved along swiftly. There was what might have been a guest bedroom elegantly decorated in soft warm colors. A study was next with large oak bookshelves going up to the ceiling, almost encircling the room. An ornate desk sat just opposite the door. And I had a chance to see a globe encased in an iron stand. I wondered fleetingly if it was a map of this world and whether I'd be able to examine it more closely.

Then we were through a small sitting area with antique chairs and a small wooden table covered with marble. A dark maroon and navy blue couch sat against one wall. Intricate gold stitching detailed the fabric. Candles were burning in iron hangings on the wall and a Tiffany electric lamp stood behind the two chairs giving off a low glow, soft and graceful.

The door to his personal bedroom stood at the end of sitting room and I shuddered nervously as he opened it guiding me through. His powers had diminished. Remy, it appeared to me, felt safe enough now to let it wane. I was here without a fight. Not exactly sure why, I turned my head slightly as we went over the threshold to see two burly guards coming up the hallway. Then the door closed behind me with an ominous click.

Just inside the doorway, Remy stopped me, allowing me to take in my surroundings. I stood on the cool polished marble floor. A slight chill went through me.

"Home, cher." He said in a low husky voice promising pleasure beyond my wildest dreams. I tried to ignore it and looked around at the decor. To my left was a king sized four poster bed made of cherry oak with a heavy brocade canopy. Thick roccoco fabric in burgundy, forest green and dark blue draped down at all four wooden posts and was neatly tied with gold braiding. At the head of the bed was a carved board, celtic in design, a stunning pattern. Two iron rings were attached to the headboard. Iron rings were also screwed into the four posts on the inner sides and down at the foot of the bed very close
to the floor. A priceless plush Persian carpet lay at the end of the bed, its colors complementing the bedspread and canopy.

Another Persian rug, just as exquisite, ran before Remy and I almost to the large window. Two antique sitting chairs, similar in design to the ones in the hallway sitting area, sat in the middle of the room facing the window. They were covered in silk navy blue fabric with elaborate gold stitching. Heavy burgundy curtains shut out the daylight and all around the room candles burned in delicately worked iron holders, the atmosphere of the room like that of a Shakespearean castle adorned for a night of passion. As if to emphasize the antiquated environment the overhead electrical lights were low.

Turning my head to the right side of the rectangular room I examined the three mahogany couches covered in silk burgundy fabric with more of the intricate gold stitching. They sat in a U-shape in front of a large marble lined fireplace. The mantel was worked in soft natural oak. A few priceless, I assumed, antique statuettes and vases sat along its edge. Another soft Persian rug lay in front of the fireplace as a fire roared in the dark mouth of the angle. Between the couches sat a cherry oak coffee table with small drawers lining the sides, iron rings used as handles. On the right side of the fireplace was a door. And along the wall, perpendicular to the door stood a huge ornate armoire.

After a few minutes, when Remy felt I'd had a long enough look around, he ran a hand over my spine and across my ass and pushed me forward toward the window. I was surprised by this action. I'd expected him to lead me right over to the bed, throw me onto it and fuck me there and then. Obviously I never really knew the man. I certainly didn't know him now. He was a complete mystery to me. He acted almost as a lover showing me his home for the first time, wanting to impress.

Remy guided me across the softest rug I'd ever had the privilege to walk on. I felt as if my feet sank an inch or two into the plushness. Contrasting the coolness of the marble it set my senses tingling. An added effect for slaves brought here, something to enhance the nervousness they already were experiencing?

As we approached the window, Remy stepped away to pull open the thick curtains. Immediately I brought my hand up to block the fiercely setting sun from my squinting eyes. It was brilliant. Possibly the most gorgeous sunset I'd ever seen in my life. And with my own eyes. No ruby quartz glasses to veil the colors in reds and pinks. The sight was incredible. The window
looked out over a city that seemed to be set ablaze. Yellows, oranges, amber's all bathed the buildings in an inferno. Windows sparkled and winked as the golden star slid below the horizon. The sky above shone rosy at the edges of the orb dueling with the reds and purples across the few scattered clouds. Yellow rays of light shot up through those clouds like the true voice of God. And closer to me the sky was a deeper blue, growing darker with every minute as the sun disappeared behind the city.

Remy stepped behind me with a lovely grin and placed his hands on my buttocks, massaging them gently with his fingers. I shivered as my muscles tightened. Was this where he would take me, in front of the city bathed in the setting sun? In spite of the nervous anticipation I felt as he touched me, I kept my eyes locked on the breathtaking view, not wanting to miss a moment.

"Manifique." Remy whispered, his breath warm and inviting in my ear drawing another shudder. "Almost enough to rival your beauty, eh cher?" Pulling me close, he wrapped his long arms tightly around my waist taking the earlobe in his teeth and wetting it with his tongue. Then letting it go he blew gently. If not for the ring I would have cum then furiously. Remy stretched himself
taut along my back resting his chin on my right shoulder. We stood there in silence watching the sun escape down behind the buildings until lights began to flicker in the windows below. How many slaves were pleasuring their masters, maybe enjoying this view, I had to wonder.

As the last of the setting sun turned into an tiny eerie green arch and the sky turned nearly pitch in front of us, Remy sighed as if in sadness at the loss and turned me around to face him. He pressed his lips to mine and backed away to look at me closely, as if he almost couldn't believe I was here and I was his and I would obey. I watched him back for  several minutes as his eyes
trailed slowly down my nude form. Then, unable to stop myself, I turned my head to look at the bed with a dreadful expectation. Remy saw the movement and looked to where my gaze went. With a sly smile he looked back at me.
"Soon enough, cher." Then he laughed. "You t'ink I'm just gonna throw you on de bed and fuck you thoroughly, eh?"

I turned back to meet his eyes, my look saying everything my lips would not.

His smile deepened. "I wouldn't be so crass, Scott. I want to savor you. I want to make love to you. And I want you to enjoy it. I want you to know that you loved being taken by another man and dat you loved being possessed by Remy Lebeau."

I felt my jaw tremble just a little and I clenched my teeth tightly together to stop the shaking. But Remy noticed the action and ran his fingertips across my jaw line.

"Relax. I could never hurt you." I almost laughed, but then he added, "Unless you disobey me." His voice was low and as sensual as silk across my bare skin with no hint of the threat in his tone. His fingers burned along the edge of my chin as I flushed, part in anger at the threat, part in fear at the certainty of sex this night, and part in arousal as he touched me.

"Remy...I don't..." My head snapped back at the force of his hand striking across my face. I stood frozen in shock, eyes wide, anxious and furious.

"I own you, Scott. I didn't go t'rough de trouble of bringing you here for us to be friends. You'll address me properly. You'll call me Master. And you'll speak only when I permit it. Understand?" Remy's voice was razor-sharp, brooking no argument. His eyes seemed to glow more fiercely, narrowed into slits. Swallowing, I considered fighting him, my rage rising at his warning.
I wasn't thinking very clearly, believing somehow that I could resist him. As far as hand-to-hand combat skills I was certain we were equally matched, though he was the more agile. But then I caught myself, reining in my anger as I realized he held the advantage with his kinetic mutation. I had to honestly question whether he'd use it against me. If he couldn't have me willingly, would he kill me instead? How deep did his obsession with me run? Of course he could take me willingly enough by turning on that damn charm of his. It was how he'd fucked Alex.

I straightened and nodded once, sharply. He had me, if not at his complete mercy, then very close to it. "Yes Master." The word rolled like acid off my tongue, bitter to the taste. Remy looked at me warily for a minute, taking in my reaction, measuring my acceptance, judging the tone of my answer. Was there a hint of sarcasm or disrespect there?

"D'ccord." He said at last, pulling me into his arms, his hands holding my ass firmly against him, his lips touching my throat running up from the hollow to the jugular with just the tip of his tongue. Then he began to suck furiously, making me gasp as my knees weakened. He was marking me as his own. I could feel the purpling of my skin begin as Remy's lips left the mark to
plunder my mouth. His tongue was insistent as it pushed forward demanding entrance. And I relinquished control then, opening to a bruising kiss that took my breath away. Suddenly I realized that for all his words of ownership he was trying to seduce me. There was an air of romance about his stance, his touch, his kiss. I shuddered and almost giggled at how romantic the scene
was. Next he'd be bringing me flowers and candy and asking me to the prom.

Finally, Remy broke the kiss with a pat to my face and taking my hand, led me over to the fireplace. When he ordered me to kneel I dropped to the rug without argument, but slowly, still some defiance in my manner. As I looked up at him, Remy gazed thoughtfully down at me. I thought he was about to say something, but then he moved to sit on one of the couches. Placing his elbows on his knees and leaning forward, he rubbed his face wearily and muttered under his breath. I suppressed a surge of sympathy, thinking with contradictory delight "I must be a handful for him." The corners of my mouth curled up into a tight smile that vanished the moment he leaned back into the couch, stretched his arms across the top and kicked his feet up onto the
coffee table.

We sat in silence for a long time and I wondered what exactly we were waiting for. Remy's eyes had closed and I felt certain he was asleep. I breathed a small sigh of relief. Maybe he'd sleep there all night and forget about me. I watched him closely as his facial muscles relaxed, thinking he really was a handsome man. His long silky auburn hair hung down the back of the couch
giving me full view of his profile. He had a thin somewhat hawkish nose and high aristocratic cheek bones, soft pliable lips and a sharp angled chin. I'd heard him referred to as the prince of thieves or the prince of New Orleans. I could believe him to be royalty for all his being raised in the streets, an orphan and pick-pocket. Remy was a shade shorter than me, not much, but
sitting back like that he seemed taller, longer. It was his slender build I imagine. He had a powerful body, but thin. Angular, but not bony. He was dressed in a regal purple, gold and black topcoat embroidered with a swirling paisley design. Loose black pants fit well into plain black boots that went up to his knees. His arousal was evident even underneath all that heavy  clothing. I looked up into red on black eyes.

"Enjoying de view?"

My head whipped away, embarrassed to be caught admiring him so openly. Remy chuckled and was about to say something else when the door to his room opened quietly and a young blond haired boy stepped shyly into the room. He closed the door just as quietly.

"Henri!" Remy voiced with delight. The boy smiled and came around to stand in front of him.

"My Lord." Henri said with an oddly reserved dignity for boy his age. I guessed him to be about nine or ten. He wore a navy blue tunic without embellishment, black pants and boots. A cute little boy, he had bleach blond hair and bright attentive blue eyes. "Cute as a button," Jean would have said.

Without another word from Remy, Henri began to tug at the Cajun's boot, slipping it off with little difficulty and placing it next to the table. Then he did the same with the other boot. Remy stood, but as the boy began to undo his pants, he looked over at me and scowled. Pushing the boy gently away he stepped in front of me and cracked me once again across the face.

"I'm no pedophile, hein!" Had my expression been that obvious? Apparently so. Remy cursed at me in French. Then he said, "Got a lot of nerve to judge me, homme, kneeling dere naked wit' a collar an' a cock ring on. 'Specially when Henri is fully clothed." I dropped my head somewhat ashamed, but mostly angry. What did he expect? Young male sex slaves running around his palace. Seemed reasonable to me he might have a taste for young boys.

Remy bent down, digging his fingers into my chin and lifting it to look at me. He was furious. "Not dat I need to explain it to a slave," His tone was cold putting all the emphasis on the word slave, "but Henri is the illegitimate son of one of my courtiers. He's learning how to be a valet.  Wit' my recommendation he'll be able to get a position in any of the homes of de wealthy. A free man. You're in no position to judge." He let go of my jaw roughly and stood up, still glaring at me.

I bit the inside of my cheek, drawing blood to keep from screaming back at him that I was no slave. That he'd taken me from my home, stripped me and collared me, forced me into this perverse role and was planning on raping me tonight no matter what he called it. I had every right to judge him. And to hate him. But it would get me nowhere. I gritted my teeth, biting back the
rage and reached up to the fly of his trousers intending to give the sign of submission.

But Remy stopped me, understanding my intent. "Not until you mean it, mon cher." How could he say that? I'd never really mean it. I'd never really submit to him, not in my head, not in my heart.

I dropped my hand and my head and waited for him to act. A moment later I felt his fingers against my forehead pushing it back. At the same time he said, "Look at me, Scott." I tilted my head to look up at him keeping my expression neutral. His fingers worked through my hair, brushing it lightly, his gesture warm and tender. "No more fighting, eh?"

As if we'd actually been fighting, I thought laughing to myself. If we had it'd been a wholly one sided argument with Remy as the winner hands down.

"Let's make this a pleasant evening, neh?" Remy continued brightly. "A night to remember. It's like our honeymoon, non?" I just looked at him, a slight clench of my jaw the only sign of my hatred. There he went again comparing our relationship to a marriage, as if it were something sacred and pure.

Remy cocked his head slightly to the left and hardened his look. He knew I was angry. The question was whether he would ignore it for the moment or try to break my anger out of me, perhaps turn it into fear. He sighed. I wasn't quite as broken as he'd thought. Bending down, he smoothed the hair from my brow and gave me a quick chaste kiss. Then he stepped back over to Henri, allowing the boy to finish undressing him. Remy would ignore my resistance for now.

Lowering my face, I watched him from the corner of my eye. Now naked he stretched his tight lean form languidly and raised his arms high above his head. Turning away from me as Henri went to the armoire, Remy twisted his head popping the bones. Then he placed his hands on the back of his hips and cracked the joints of his spine. His fingers sat just below the dimples of
his rear. Lord, what a nice ass he had. Round and smooth. An image leapt into my head of me cupping those twin orbs with my hands, stoking the soft silky flesh and running my tongue along the crack of his ass while he writhed and moaned. I shuddered inwardly at the vision and looked away, not wanting to know what other images would spring to mind when he turned around.

I closed my eyes and focused my thoughts on other things. My wife, Jean. How beautiful she looked in the mornings when I woke before her. The sun streaming through the window would catch her hair causing it to sparkle. Her face would be smooth from rest and free of worry. I could have watched her forever like that, still not quite believing she loved me, the skinny freak with the ruby red glasses. That wouldn't work. So I went through the list of X-men enemies and their powers. A little better. But Remy could now be included on that list. Okay, mutants with horribly disfiguring powers. That did the trick. I felt a hand on my shoulder and looked up. Remy was clothed in a purple satin robe tied loosely around his slender hips. "C'mon, cher. I
need a bath."
 
 

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