Heavy metal cuffs ground into his wrists, the sweat weakening the skin even more. Hector would have huge, bright red gashes around his wrists and neck. Isaac would command his fairy type Innocent Devil, a creature he forged only for this purpose, to heal Hector of most, but not all injuries by the end of the day. He liked to see his prisoner's body permanently marked, decorated with the signs of ownership.

Having been bound like this, attached to the wall and on his feet for many hours, Hector was in a weary, simple minded state. He'd long ago abandoned any hopes of being fed, and the hunger pangs become no more than an occasional reminder that he did still have a stomach. Every physical injury ached until a new one was given. In time he lost track of everything that had been done to him, and only felt the pain of the very freshest wound.

Over the hours, he kept thinking back to the battle that lead him here. It couldn't have been that long ago, Hector knew, but as time passed so slowly in the dungeon, Hector thought of every second before being captured as an entirely separate life.

He'd started with the lust for revenge. He already had nothing to live for; his wife was dead, at his current captor's hands, no less. Even when his quest lead to many other consequences and discoveries, still he could not shake off that very simple, very basic need to find and mutilate the one that had caused him such pain. His hatred was tangible, but like a fire that gives off no comforting heat, it was an agony, no matter how constant.

Even the vicious wounds sustained from Isaac's spear during the fight meant nothing to him. Just a few seconds into the confrontation and Hector realized, at the back of his mind, that he was no match for Isaac. He was completely unprepared, slow and clumsy as a ghoul to Isaac's confident and well rehearsed attacks.

But Hector didn't care; he thought that perhaps luck would be on his side. Maybe the sheer force of his hatred would be enough to give him an edge. It was this hatred that kept him from giving in to the sweet temptation of suicide, after all.

Or, even better, he would be killed. Simple as that, everything over with one final stab of the spear. It could have been so easy to let it happen. If not Isaac, than his demonic familiar would have granted him release with just one well aimed blast. How many times had he thrown himself to the ground to escape the creature's deadly attacks?

He had not counted on Isaac sparing his life, but he realized later, hanging limply from shackles, that he should have expected it. Has Isaac ever shown such mercy to anyone, or anything, else? After forsaking Dracula, Hector should have known that he was no longer considered anything of any importance to Isaac. The only thing sacred, if such a word could be used, to Isaac was his loyalty to Dracula.

"Perhaps you should have trained some more," Isaac had sneered, after a railing, inhuman laugh. Hector was face down in a pile of whipped up dirt and dust, and a puddle of his own blood. The tip of Isaac's blade had gouged out one of his eyes, torn his clothes, sliced through skin and arteries, and yet Hector had keep coming, propelled only by the blackest hatred. He could not ignore the pain, but used it to help push him forward, telling himself over and over that this nightmare would be over very soon. Whether or not he took Isaac's life, he would soon be reunited with Rosalee, for even if he survived, he fully intended on killing himself right afterwards. Someone else could deal with Dracula's curse.

It was a swipe at one of the tendons in Hector's leg that finally fell him. Finally the pain was just too much, and he was no longer able to even stand. His remaining eye had strained upwards to see the vague, fuzzy shapes of Isaac's legs before him, but that chilling laugh was perfectly clear.

It was a high pitched, exuberant burst of noise that always seemed just about to go out of control. During his time as one of Dracula's generals, it was a constant companion. Right next to his ear, or perhaps as a faint echo in the middle of the night, but it was always there. It was there when Hector watched Rosalee consumed by flames, and it was there at his moment of defeat.

***

A sharp slap brought Hector back to consciousness, and he was woefully confused. He didn't remember falling asleep, or much of anything from the past few minutes.

"Well, I'm terribly sorry!" Isaac jeered, irritation in his lilac eyes. "Am I boring you?" He drove a hearty scream from Hector, driving a dagger deep into the other's gut.

Isaac had only been there a short while; most of the day Hector had spent waiting, chained up. A lowly and silent Innocent Devil would come in now and then to clean Hector, but it allowed the blood and sweat to glisten and curdle upon the man's pale skin, just as it would allow Hector a taste of just enough food and water to keep him alive, but no more.

When Isaac had returned, Hector had felt his heart race with dread, but he was also relieved. A break in the monotony, or something more? Hector liked to fantasize about Isaac letting his guard down, maybe by turning his back after untying Hector. But his fantasies never went too far before his mind would go back to torturous memories.

By now he was used to it, but Hector still shuddered with revulsion when Isaac brought the blade to his lips and licked it clean, his eyes fixed to the prisoner. Blood stained Isaac's lips in patches, and some of the color sat in specks on his teeth. With only a few torches to illuminate the dungeon, all that blood looked black, except when an occasional drop caught a ray of light. Then it shone with a magnificent, bright red, matching Isaac's hair.

One more lingering smirk and Isaac bent to drag his tongue over the fresh wound, resting his fingers on Hector's chest. The leather of his glove felt cold on his moist, hot skin. Hector gasped, then moaned as Isaac's tongue at first stroked, then penetrated the wound. Imagining that Isaac could possibly touch an organ, or at the very least, bits of torn muscles, Hector fought the urge to vomit. He had thrown up on Isaac's boots, his hands, even on his belly, but never had he defiled his tormentor's hair.

But Isaac didn't stop, and Hector had to turn his head and try to breathe in deeply to chase away the nausea. When he sucked in a breath, he gently pushed against Isaac's face, driving that tongue in even deeper. His rival's teeth scraped along the frayed edges of the wound at first, but now they clamped on loose skin, pulling and grinding. The idea of Isaac eating him, or even just pretending to, was too much for Hector. That ghastly image, the pain, and the fetid air of the dungeon all conspired to make him vomit over Isaac's head.

Since his last meal was nothing more than a mouthful of dry, stale bread, Hector mostly dry heaved, and what little he brought up was oily yellow bile. It was still enough to interrupt Isaac, who stood and glared at Hector, eyes narrowing. Hector's chest quivered, his breath coming out in small whines. He was far too exhausted to waste a thought on dignity; only the most basic of emotions were left. Fear, pain, and something else he wasn't sure of.

Isaac then split his lips into a ghoulish, blood soaked smile. It wasn't the blood, but some other detail that instantly reminded Hector of Dracula. Not for the first time Hector wished he'd been captured by Dracula instead. Not that he expected any mercy, but at least he didn't hate him quite so fiercely.

Isaac made a slight motion with one hand and Hector flinched. He trembled slightly as Isaac laughed at his cowardice. But it took too much energy to feel shame. With a low, throaty moan of a laugh in his lips, Isaac leaned closer, so Hector could smell the blood in his breath and the bile in his hair. Isaac's knee ground between Hector's bound legs, forcing a whimper from him. Torchlight glinted off Isaac's dagger as he waved it back and forth in front of Hector's face. He chuckled and showed his blood stained teeth at Hector's fearful reactions; with an obedient fairy at Isaac's beck and call, he really could do anything he wanted to Hector. Hector whined from the stress alone of expecting his face to be maimed at any second.

But Isaac flung the knife over his shoulder and smirked with a slight wag of the head. Isaac had a whole language of facial expressions and subtle body movements, and yet Hector had never learned them all. He could appear to be in a jovial mood and yet think nothing of burying the head of his spear deep into a villager's body. Even Hector was not free from his violent tendencies while they had served under the same lord. Of course, since Hector was under Dracula's protection at that time, Isaac never did anything too serious to him.

But Hector had no such protection anymore. He had no allies, no friends, no one to even know where he was.

Isaac shoved his fingers around the back of Hector's head and pulled him closer to his face. His bloodied tongue snaked in even before their lips met, and his free hand traveled up and down Hector's bare torso. Hector's skin crawled, and he shook as Isaac's hand slid lower. Even though this kiss was less of a kiss and more Isaac trying to rip Hector's lips from his face, it was the first time their mouths had ever met since he was brought here.

Even when they had served Dracula together, they had been sexual. It was an unsatisfying joke of a relationship, about as personal and loving as a condescending to nod to someone in passing. But they were both men who found what little physical comfort they could in each other.

Hector knew to expect more of the same as Isaac's prisoner, only far worse, of course. He was not shocked when he was taken by force that first night, not even repulsed to orally service his captor. He was so used to such acts with Isaac he'd grown weary of them.

And yet Hector was now panting and trembling with a desperate need as Isaac's breath washed down his neck. He greedily licked up his own blood from Isaac's tongue and lips when he had the chance. He didn't cringe when Isaac stroked his neck, but whined for more. His fear of Isaac did not diminish; he fully expected Isaac to do something evil to him very soon. But he had not felt a lust so strong before, and wondered briefly is his exhaustion what was the cause.

Teeth scraped across his lips and clacked against his own. They bit down on Hector's lips and crunched and pulled, but a tongue would drive inside before too much damage was done. Hector felt more overtaken, more subjugated by this savage kiss than by anything else Isaac had done to him.

When Isaac pulled his lips away, Hector gaped, longing for more. He told himself that as long as Isaac kissed him, the more time he had to plan his escape. He even allowed himself to admit that he was desperate for even the slightest bit of tenderness from another person, but he would not even think that he could possibly want such tenderness from Isaac.

Isaac had snapped his fingers for his fairy to close up the wound on Hector's belly. Hector didn't even realize how close to death he had been in those few frantic seconds, bleeding his life away all over Isaac's hips. He kept his eyes fixed on Isaac the entire time, but not to catch him letting his guard down.

Isaac slapped the fairy away and pressed himself back onto his prisoner's body. The leather of his pants chafed painfully against Hector's cock, but he pushed himself back anyway. Grunting, Isaac rubbed his own erection against Hector's, with only the tight material in the way. Grasping Hector by the neck, Isaac rubbed himself harder against Hector, biting his lip and snarling with pleasure. Hector had never been able to insult Isaac by remaining soft during such molestation, but he had managed to at least appear disinterested. When they had been fellow generals, their idea of sex was one taking what he warted from the other, with no regard to the other's needs. Even Hector was guilty of it. This time it was one sided just because Isaac had certain advantages over Hector. It wouldn't have made much difference if Hector were dead.

But ever since that kiss, Hector's lust was growing, drowning out any other feeling or thought. He squeezed his eyes shut and hissed, already despising himself, "Isaac...please....please..."

Isaac didn't slow, but he did make a curious sound in answer. The two had barely exchanged a handful of words to each other since the capture.

"Let me..." Hector gnashed his teeth, trying to will himself to give this up. He tried to focus on the ache of his body, or even torment himself with his grief for Rosalee, but nothing worked. He opened his eyes and breathed, "Let me come. Please!"

Isaac stopped and stared at Hector for a moment, a blank look on his face. Hector's ragged breathing paused, waiting. Half expecting a cruel punishment for saying that. He could not decipher the smug look he got in response. But that was no reason for Hector to relax; Isaac's sadism did not always depend on his mood.

"Do you know why you haven't yet?" he asked sweetly, cocking his head. Hector knew it was because he simply was never given the opportunity. The rare times his hands weren't bound, he was wearing an iron belt that prevented him to even touch himself. But of course that wasn't the kind of answer Isaac was looking for, so Hector remained quiet, his hips writhing.

Isaac slapped his hand between his captive's legs and squeezed. Isaac's touch was never what one would call gentle, but the sudden pain shocked Hector into a loud gasp. Isaac pulled on Hector's cock and squeezed so hard Hector writhed against the wall, as if to crawl away. But as terrible as the pain was, the arousal was worse. Hector could no longer differentiate between pleasure and pain; he both wanted this to stop and wanted more.

"I haven't told you to," Isaac said, then finally relaxed his grip. Hector shuddered and felt his body melt into Isaac's grip. The muscles at the base of his thighs tightened as he tried to spread his bound legs. He let out a loud moan as Isaac's gloved hand slid up to the head. Tears burned in his eyes.

"And I take obedience very, very seriously," he whispered, pulling ever harder, leaning his face closer. Hector kept his face turned away as it contorted into a desperate grimace. "And you wouldn't dare disobey me, now would you?"

"No," Hector hissed. He'd by now gotten over having to say shameful things to appease Isaac. His past with this servant of Dracula had taught him that while Isaac was dangerous and unstable, he was still vain, and that can always be manipulated. If Isaac wanted to hear pretty words, Hector would tell them; he didn't have to mean them.

Isaac stroked him, running his fingers up and down in a tight, firm grip, and cackled in Hector's ear. "And I don't see how you reaching your climax benefits me in any way."

"I don't...I..." Hector attempted speech, if only to try to control himself. He felt dizzy and his muscles started to convulse. His breath shortened, and it took every ounce of will to prevent himself.

Isaac only stroked him harder, and snarled, "In fact I see no benefit in you having this at all." He stopped stroking to squeeze at the base. Hector's head drooped as far as the neck shackle would allow, the sweaty top of his head brushing across the heavy iron collar at Isaac's neck. The tiny chains tinkled musically.

"Please..." He chomped down on his tongue hard enough to make it bleed. Anything to distract his body from what it desperately needed. He frowned and whispered, "Master."

Isaac chuckled and let go to lift Hector's chin. "Now that is nice," he cooed. "Even if it is just a pathetic trick."

Hector bit his lip, but could only hold back the sobs for a second more. No matter what he'd say or do, Isaac would find some way to throw it back in his face, he knew. Now the faint hope for some kind of pleasure would be for nothing.

"You want it so bad you're weeping?" Isaac licked his lips and watched Hector a moment, while Hector battled with the surge of emotions brewing inside him. He was still painfully aroused, suffering a need far more immediate and painful than any hunger or injury pain. He would not know release on his own, but even just one more touch from Isaac, just one more faint touch...

Hector sobbed not only from that, but at his hatred at himself for showing Isaac yet another vulnerability. Now there really wasn't anything left safe from him.

But even as he berated himself, Isaac was unlocking the shackles. No matter what Isaac had in store, Hector only cared that he could at least get the chance to move his aching limbs. He fell into Isaac's arms and had to be dragged away from the wall. Isaac tossed him like a pile of rags and ordered him to his knees. With great effort, Hector obeyed.

But he did not expect Isaac to summon Abel, his human-like Innocent Devil. It seemed to Hector a mindless creature, nothing like a man except in its freakishly familiar appearance. Its eyes were blank and cold, but its claws were like razors.

The thing floated to Isaac's side and glowered menacingly at Hector. He then gave orders to Abel in a low voice. Hector watched in weary confusion until the demon came for him and easily wrestled him to the ground. Within seconds Abel was sitting on the ground with Hector pressed against it, back to it. Abel pressed its claws to Hector's throat and pulled up and back, forcing Hector to look up at a grinning Isaac. The devil lifted its feet over Hector's stretched out legs, slammed them on the ground between them, and then pushed outward, spreading Hector's legs even farther. The claws at Hector's throat slithered upwards to force into his mouth. They had a disturbingly strange taste amongst the fresh blood.

Hector was about to speak when Abel slid Hector's body on top of its own. With surprising strength, Abel lifted Hector just enough to force him back down on the devil's cock. Hector burst out with a gargling scream, just as surprised as hurt; Hector had many of his own Devils, but he'd never seen anything like that on any of them. Leave it to Isaac to be the one to find it first.

Strange as it was, Hector was still unable to escape it. The devil pounded up into him as if he were a rag doll. Abel was no bigger than Isaac, but it seemed to have ridges or some kind of growths on its appendage that ripped Hector apart from the inside.

"Stop!" Isaac barked, and Abel obeyed immediately. It held Hector upright, slipping its hand from Hector's mouth to grip his hair tight. Hector quivered and moaned as Isaac approached him, agonizing from the damaging object inside him and the fact that his erection was no less desperate.

"It's far more fun to watch you scream in pain, Hector," he sneered, and lifted his foot over Hector's groin, lowering it slowly. When Hector writhed against it, Isaac pressed down harder for a second then released. "Give him what he wants, Abel," he said.

"No!" Hector yelled as Abel took hold of his cock. He winced and fought to get the words out. "No! Isaac, please...from you...please!"

Isaac crossed his arms and smirked. "Is my Abel no good enough for you?" He crouched to meet Hector eye to weeping eye. "Why do you want it from me?"

Hector groaned and struggled against Abel, who continued roughly squeezing the human, since it had not been told to do otherwise by its master yet. "I-I don't...just...please, please!" Even if Hector could speak clearly, he wouldn't have a coherent answer. He wasn't sure himself why he needed Isaac's hand, and no other, on his cock.

"Enough," he snapped to Abel, who withdrew its claw. Isaac crept closer and flashed his teeth, now licked clean of blood. "Begging me to touch you," he whispered. "Just like old times."

As desperate as he was, Hector could not resist arguing. "I never--"

"No, you didn't beg me back then. You didn't have to." Isaac laughed a low, slow noise and traced a finger up Hector's cheek. "But you do know, don't you? You're not my Lord's favorite anymore. You have to earn what you want."

"That's not my fault," Hector hissed. Even breathing was agony, as every movement caused his flesh to scrape against the jagged cock inside him. "I never wanted--"

"O please, you're killing the mood," Isaac sneered, waving a hand dismissively. "You're dead to him now anyway. Well, worse than dead actually, but none of that interests me in the slightest." Hector saw the briefest glimmer of some other emotion flash over Isaac's face, but then it passed, replaced by a cold, toothy grin. Isaac crawled closer to Hector, and as Abel lay back, so did Hector. But for the pain of Abel inside him, Hector could easily forget the devil was even there.

"What will you do for me if I allow you to come?" he said.

Hector stammered, fighting the incredibly awkward position his body was in. It was too painful to lean back any farther, but he felt repelled by Isaac's menacing, challenging look. He did still open his legs further, however. "A-anything," he whispered. "What more can you take?"

Isaac chuckled with a self-assure smugness. "Then tell me you forgive me," he said in a mocking tone. One hand floated to Hector's cock, but the fingers just barely danced on the skin.

"For-forgive you?"

"For that ugly incident with that witch."

Hector grunted and felt his face burn up with a sudden surge of hatred. The light, teasing touches were torture; his body spasmed with violent pleasure at Isaac's touch, no matter what he had said. He kept his mouth shut, not even knowing what he could possibly say that wouldn't get him in trouble.

Isaac withdrew his hand and pouted his lips, making a fakely sorrowful face. "I don't want you to hate me for it," he whined, and then laughed sharply. He took hold of Hector's neck, pushing him ever so slightly, but enough to force Hector harder down against Abel. "Go on. Tell me."

Hector winced, teeth gnashing. Isaac listened to him grunt for a moment then let go, prompting Hector to yelp, "I forgive you!" The black hatred could wait; the throbbing in his cock could not. Far too many nights he had been forced to spend chained up in that dungeon, waiting for the painful arousal to subside by itself.

"For what?" Isaac asked with a dart of the tongue over his lip.

Hector met his eyes and didn't bother to hide his loathing. That only made Isaac laugh as he dragged his fingertips along the inside of Hector's thigh. Some heat radiated from Isaac's gloved hand, and was like a caress. Even Abel seemed to be conspiring against him as well; the creature sat up, forcing Hector to lean his back against the monster's torso, closing him in.

Brave hatred and defiance were playthings for Isaac. Just one more soft stroke of the finger and Hector was in tears again, ready to say anything. "For—for what you did t-to...Rosalee..." he whispered through gritted teeth, tears rolling down both cheeks. He sickened himself, but at that moment all that mattered was Isaac's hand around his cock.

"Tell me again," Isaac lilted.

Hector forced it out quick and clear, "I forgive you for-for what you did to Rosalee." Hector sagged against Abel, desperately wishing for release and death in the same breath.

"Pathetic," Isaac sneered, leaning close enough to brush his forehead against the other's. "You disgust me, Hector. I never though you could go any lower, but you just did." Isaac slowly licked a runaway tear from Hector's face. "I have heard the most pitiful and disgusting pleas for mercy from other men, but those cries were for their lives. You, however..." He shook his head and took off one glove. Hector knew that Isaac was in no position to judge him for this. But that didn't make him hate himself any less, especially since he knew he would do it again, and again. As often as Isaac wanted.

Isaac took hold of Hector's cock with his bare hand. The naked flesh was warm, soft, moist. Hector squirmed and writhed under Isaac's hold, oblivious of the pain from Abel. He even lay back on Abel, as if the demon were nothing more than furniture, spreading his legs, throwing his head back.

He had been achingly close before, but he was able to hold off for a moment. He leaned closer to Isaac, inviting him to a kiss that would send him over the edge for sure. Isaac smiled a tiny, cheeky smile and leaned closer as well. But his lips went past Hector's and to his ear instead, where he snarled, "I killed your whore and I'll kill you, Hector. You never should have betrayed your master. No one crosses Lord Dracula."

He gripped Hector by the hair with his free hand, and stroked harder with the other. Hector was disturbed by his words, but was getting closer and closer. Perhaps the exhilarating pleasure emboldened him, but he dared to whisper back, "You have him to yourself now."

Isaac let out a vicious, hateful laugh and snapped Hector's head to the side. "You have no idea the Hell I went through when you abandoned us! He blamed me for it, he thought I'd killed you!" Hector stole a glance at Isaac when he paused to see violent emotion in his eyes. "I was getting closer to him, Hector, but you ruined that when you left. You caused more grief than you'll ever know! You have no idea what pain is, what loss is!" He shook Hector's head by the hair and hissed so hard through gritted teeth that he was foaming at the mouth. "I only wish I had more to take away from you. If I could bring that filthy witch back just to kill her again, I would!"

Every cruel word was only bringing Hector closer. Every powerful emotion that raced through his head worked together to amplify the intense sensation from Isaac's fingers. Hector grabbed Isaac by the shoulders, and his captor didn't make any move to correct him.

"But death is too good for you," Isaac continued. "No, you will beg me for death, and you'll want it far, far more than you want something as stupid as this."

He snarled more to Hector, but he stopped listening. Every other sensation was drowned out as he felt himself get closer. He pressed his face against Isaac's and felt the brush of the other's lips on his ear rather than hear the vicious curses. His moan was loud enough to interrupt Isaac's tirade when he finally came. He shook against Isaac for a few seconds, drooling over his shoulder, gyrating against the other's hand to make it last.

For a moment Hector was in blissful oblivion. He surrendered himself to the perfectly empty feeling that followed, unable to hear or see or feel anything else. Very slowly he woke back up, and felt his stomach sink at the grim look on Isaac's face. Isaac was holding his hand at chest level, as if he could not stand to have it near him. It was covered with Hector's ejaculate.

"I did not tell you to come," he said at last.

Hector could only stare stupidly back. He had thought...it didn't matter, he was wrong. And if what Isaac had said earlier was no empty threat...

"What are you just sitting there for?" Isaac snapped. "Clean this off me!"

Hector went to take Isaac's hand on his own, but the redhead slapped him hard across the face. "Do not touch me, whore," he snarled, passionate disgust in his voice.

Ears ringing from the slap, Hector shakily went back to Isaac's hand and started licking. He half expected to have accidentally done something wrong again, but Isaac did nothing until Hector was finished.

"Disgusting creature," Isaac hissed, standing up. He wiped his hand on his hip and made small nod, which signaled Abel to pull Hector off him. Hector groaned with pain as that sharp object slid and ripped its way out of him. He could not see whatever it was when he turned back to look at Abel, however. The only evidence he had that such an appendage existed was the pool of blood on the floor beneath him.

He started to stand when Isaac gestured him to, but Isaac pulled him up by the hair anyway and held him close. "You dare disobey me--"

"I thought it--"

Isaac slammed Hector back first into the wall. "And now you dare interrupt me," he raged. "I will teach you to fear me, Hector--"

Isaac's fairy was at his ear then, and though Hector strained to hear, it seemed to him that she was making no sound at all. Whatever she said, it caused the color to drain from Isaac's face. It took him a second to regain his composure, but he still shook slightly even as he tried to appear menacing to Hector. "I have business to attend to," he barked, shoving Hector into Abel's arms. The Innocent Devil dragged Hector back to the shackles on the wall and locked him in.

Isaac hurried over to Hector, jabbed a finger in his face and snarled, "Don't make a sound, slave! I will be back shortly to deal with you." He then rushed up the slimy stone stairs of the dungeon as Abel extinguished the torches. With the slam of the heavy iron door, Hector was plunged back into silence and darkness.

He spent the next hour crying softly until he passed out.