Marquis

The year is seventeen ninety-five, Paris France. The rich live comfortably as the poor die young with much applaud by the narcissistic affluent. Those who are lucky enough to have money in there purses, enjoy the high life with no negativity at all. They live with smiles on their faces and alcohol in their stomachs, day upon day of feasts to feed their gluttonous hunger. Whatever they wish they had, all their deepest desires are meet with interest. This is but a story of one such man among the ranks of this elite populace, a marquis a prince and a complete beast.

A sadist was what he was. But it has to be said he hated that word it was an insulting understatement. He could not think of a high enough definition that could be used to describe what he truly was capable of. He was the living embodiment of Dr Jekyl and Mr. Hyde. One side of him was the aristocratic wealthy socialite, to who was known to everyone. A man whose face was easily recognized and identified throughout upper-class nobility. A man that was feared as he was noticed, the type of individual another person crosses the street to avoid, on the slight chance of unintentionally making eye contact with.

He was the heir to a linage of royalty, a crownless prince. A fact that he kept in mind constantly, and made sure it was fresh on the minds of those around him. Small of height so therefore underestimated, an incidence he used to his benefit. He liked to be in situations where others thought they had the upper hand, in arguments and debates on all things wrong and unjust in the world. He believed in nothing in the world, no religion no governments not even the widely accepted concept of love. Religion was for the weak, those who needed to know there was a higher place, a cause for their miserable existence. A hoax of an unreachable afterlife.

He was wealthy, wealthy beyond any comprehension. Money he had and money he used, to buy himself anything and all he wanted to attain. A gold coin here and there can buy a man anything, secrecy; company anything a man would crave for. With riches came power, power to walk where he pleased and power to go where he so wished. He spent his days doing as he delighted, conversing and debating with his peers or simply those he could tolerate being in the presence of. People knew him, but there is a difference between knowing of someone and truly knowing them.

He would never let anyone, no matter who they arto hto his world, into his head and divulge his inner sanctum of secrets. He couldn\'t care lesswhatwhat people thought but nor did he wish to be locked up in an asylum, which would be imminent with the knowledge of his secret life. Trouble had a way of finding people stalking and beating them senseless, he however stalked trouble itself finding and grasping all he could muster, ripping at it until he reached its source.


It was known true that he was stern and diligent man. A male who gives of
A false sense of security, a friendliness to get what he wants luring others in and then without warning his whole personality changes in a blink of an eye. One minute he could be alone at a gathering sipping polity at a tall glass of merlot, to smile at a passerby gesturing them with his eyes and fluid expression. The next minute he would be seen walking away laughing to himself leaving his acquaintance in tears.

All said and done, he was respected as he was feared, people came to him with care in there stroll when ever a problem occurred that was beyond there control. If he helped or not was completely up to him if it was worth it to him was the question, if it snapped at his attention. This made him a beast among men, just how much of a beast was bottled up inside him, and this nobody knew, at least anyone alive that is.

The day he shared with those who wanted to share themselves with him, but the night, the night was his. He owned the night. This man, this well known Marquis he had needs he had desires and these he let overpower him, take him over posses him. The black shroud of night was when he submitted to his urges, all of them of the sexual Varity. Now sex at this day and age is known to be ravenous, but what this marquis instigates and initiates in would be classed as inhuman unwholesome and ungodly.

When he succumbs to that clawing instinct he cares not for ramifications all he heeds is to feed that intuition. By moonlight he hunts by shadows he stalks the helpless and weary. His methods vary depending on his needs, alone he could walk hour after hour, though the dank polluted infested streets finding nothing that calls out his name, returning with disappointment to his illustrious château.


His libido had no equal nor did his sexuality have preference. He had no qualms with taking the virginity of a young ripe girl or that of a shy modest male. It made him grin counting in his head how many virgins he had \"deflowered\" one of his favorite games was to tease and taunt males who were so sure of there unwavering sexuality, only to have them bent over and pleading for more as their pillaged entrances bleed before him.

Pain was his friend; pain was the only thing he was ever intimate with. He caused it he made it flow like a river, sending chills of hurt throughout his desired victim. Night after night did he challenge his originality, his gift for pleasurable pain. The pleasure was his, pain however was theirs, just the way he liked it. Not to say that he could not tolerate nor dismiss pain upon his self. Whatever pleased or alit his curiosity he tried and tried with a passion. Nothing absolutely nothing was taboo in his mind.

He once enticed a teenage boy with alcohol hot food and a warm bed, only to sodomize him brutally for hours on end as a servant woman lashed his own exposed back with a horsewhip. Never yielding to his climax, reveling in the pain, feeling his back splice open and his blood pour down his skin. He remembers the night as clear as any.

The night was murky and dingy, dark polluted puddles reflected the somber negativity absorbed by every foot that trod into the mess. One man walked alone and fearlessoughough pestilence that inhabited the cobbled streets. His goal was to satisfy his plaguing desires any which way he could. He sauntered down the streets with an arrogant spark in his eyes scanning for prospects, on and on he walked trying to find the perfect victim.


As he was starting to question his faith for the night, his gaze court a vision of a small huddled boy quivering with cold in an alley. Walking slowly not to scare the child, he carefully made his way towards the male.

\"You must be freezing my boy, wont you come inside with me and warm your cold bones up?\" He spoke, the words rolling of his tongue as if said a million times prior.

The boy who was wrapped up in torn rags jumped and scuttled back at the stranger before him.

\"Who…who are you?\" He inquired with fear on his tongue.

The middle aged man before him squatted, his eyes level with the boys a lying smile grew upon his face, a ploy to comfort the lad.

\"My name is Vegeta\" he spoke as confident as ever when he mentioned his own name.

\"And what my I ask is your name boy?\" he added inquisitively.

\"Gohan\" the boy quietly revealed feeling more at ease.

The marquis Vegeta nodded with acceptance before speaking again.

\"Well…Gohan, what of my offer will you accompany me to a warm dwelling and food?\" He asks already knowing the answer.

\"Yes, thank you\" He replies standing to his feet, revealing his entire self.

Vegeta sighed with delight under his breath seeing the evidently muscular male before his eyes, as he himself rose to his feet. Reassuring the boy withirm irm smile he gestured to the inn across the paved road. He was pleased with this selection this night, his plans were being created and unfurled even as they walked.

The two entered the establishment, which was filled to the brim with vagabonds and lowlifes. Numerous haunting eyes were on the marquis and his flashy mannerisms, as he sat with his new underprivileged companion. Gohan felt out of place, not having a single shilling to rub together. He felt strangely comforted and reassured by the expression on Vegeta’s face.

“Barkeep, Food wine” Vegeta ordered with authority.

Gohan was taken by the way this man commanded in such an environment. He had a way with words and confidence that he himself had never seen. Vegeta’s attention returned to his dinner escort seeing him bedazzled and anxious even in such a dive. The cogs of his imagination turned and clicked as his eyes locked to the small shy figure. As the food and wine arrived on large plates and 5 liter pints. Gohan’s eyes shot open and his mannerre fre forgotten, as he begun to stuff his face with as much food as his small mouth could contain, before washing it down with the scarlet wine.

Vegeta seemed to laugh on cue watching Gohan eat and eat drinking more of the wine. It was obvious that it was taking affect on the male as Gohan grinned and slurred his speech eventually passing out into a deep bowl of broth.

Gohan awoke with a clench of his eyes, his vision slowly becoming clearer to his new surroundings. He felt cold he felt pain. The alcohol in his system was fading, decreasing the anesthetic affect on his body. The position he was in was unnatural awkward and tortuous, his body slumped backwards tried to a fallen wooden chair, his legs parted as wide apart as physically possible. His face pressed hard against the cold stone floor as his naked backside is perched upwards towards the ceiling.

Tapping of heels can be heard louder coming cloto tto the bound and nude Gohan. The room was dark to dark to see anything let alone the figure that was coming from behind him. a maniacal subtle laugh begins to echo throughout the room as small flames flicker to life.

The clicking of heels continuesder der with each step until the figure is standing at Gohan’s head.

“Wha..whats going on?” mutters Gohan regaining more of his coherency.

“Shhh, be still and quiet my boy, I wouldn’t want to resort to drastic measures” speaks Vegeta polity as he kneels at the boys head.

“What are you doing to me, why am I bound?” asks Gohan with plea in his tone as he struggles in the bondage.

“I wont tell you again boy, this is my final warning do not anger me” the marquis warns placing a suitcase down beside the boy.

An audible echoed whimper flows from Gohan’s lips as he tries in vto eto escape. With that Vegeta shakes his head with obvious disappointment, slowly opening the case before them both. As the bound case exposes its contents louder cries and pleas emit from Gohan. Inside were bladed implements of assorted size and length, scalpels cleavers and saws. Tools of amputation, medical in nature but cruel and painful in prae. e.

Vegeta kneels at the fallen head of his captive taking a leather strap from the case, before wrapping it around the boys head uncurling and holding it in place to the chair.

“I did tell you not to speak a word, now here not unlike life there are ramifications for your disobeying” proclaims the domineering male taking a hold of a sleek scalpel with one hand, as his other gently caress the tear soaked cheek of the boy.

Without warning Vegeta pulls open Gohan’s mouth taking a hold of his tongue, and with one quick movement he cuts it clean out with the scalpel. Wiping it clean with precision he places its back, reveling in the muttered screams. He smirks pleased with himself looking at the pool of blood now flowing from his mouth.

“Hmmm, blood how delicious what beauty the texture” he speaks to himself dippins fis fingers in the forming pool, before tapping the scarlet tipped finger on his tongue.


“Mmmm, that is something to be savored indeed” he complements before resting a silver goblet on the jaw of Gohan, seeing it fill ever so with the scarlet ambrosia.

As the chalice fills, Vegeta strolls to the back end of the crying youth inspecting his firm, appealing backside. Running his palm and fingers teasingly over and between his ass, he laughs to himself as his plans escalate. He parts his sweaty cheeks, before sniffing the aroma from his explorative finger. He knows no limits as he inserts his finger back between and into the small hole.

“My, my you are a tight one, I will enjoy this very much” he grins with unheard personal applause, as he rises to his feet.

He reaches into his pocket pulling out a length of hooked chains, which he wraps around the waist and the chair of the boy. Taking a hold of the two sharp hooks on either end, he inserts one into and through Gohan’s ass cheek before doing the same to the other side. Pulling them violently apart sending gushes of bloodweenween his ruptured flesh.

Wordless shed tears bellow from the boy he he fears the next demonic step. Vegeta’s attention is affixed to the crimson trail between Gohan’s ravaged backside. The demented marquis places his hands upon the hips of the boy, digging his long sharp nails into his flesh, before running his tongue over the moist blood lapping at his tight flavorful anus.

Licking his lips clear of the wine like liquid, his brows raise seeing Gohan’s manhood harden and grow. “My, my we have ourselves a little masochist, and a virgin. This is like Christmas” he speaks, as he tickles the purple head. The prince’s imagination flares, reaching over to the ignored case pulling out a large cleaver.

Vegeta stands placing a single palm on the boy’s stomach pulling upward, revealing more of his lengthy cock, at the same time as digging the menacing hooks deeper into his flesh. With perfectionism he severs the enlarged organ off at the base of his scrotam. Dropping him back down he holds the penis in his mouth by a strip of flesh. Gohan screams in silence, but yet Vegeta drowns in the volume. The marquis takes gentle care of the amputated member holding it delicately in his hand, stroking the length with a perverse nature.

He caresses the lifeless shaft with his professional tongue; the blood and veins begin to stain his flawless hand. He notices a bloody testicle rolling from its fleshy walls, before taking it in his thumb and forefinger and placing it into his mouth. He rolls it around in his mouth like a hard candy, liking its shape with his tongue and pushing it against his teeth. “I treat for later” he proclaims putting the shaft to one side as he chews upon the testicle.

Swallowing the tender bloody bullock, Vegeta leans down and takes the overflowing Goblet. Bringing it to his parched lips he sips, as if it were a vintage distillation. He sighs with pure unbridled pleasure as the bouquet of blood runs down his throat. He paces around the boy contemplating his next move, having a mental orgasm at the copious blood on the floor. His eyes are always going over the ripped bleeding ass before him, he waits patiently buying his time for a final act of degeneracy.

“You belong to me, if you live through this night or not is irrelevant, you are my property” Vegeta states, pulling one more long knife from his collection.

Gohan’s pain is unbearable; his eyes flutter to remain open as his wounds flow his life onto the lifelmoldmoldy stones. Almost on instinct Vegeta starts to carve into the flesh of the boys back, deeply and methodical. The word “Mine” starts to take bloody shape in bold capital letters. With this Gohan passes out, his mind shuts off as his heart slows, the last thing he hears and comprehends is Vegeta’s pants dropping around his ankles.