Nathaniel learns that not everything is about pain. WARNING!!! This story contains depiction of male/male consensual BDSM and male/male consensual slash. If you're not 18 (or 21 in some places) GO AWAY! If you don't like the idea of two guys getting it on, GO AWAY!! If you belong to either of the above categories and you read it anyway, it's your own fault, and I take no responsibility for any repurcussions. If you're scarred for life from reading this-don't send me your therapy bill. I won't pay it. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the sound of harsh, panting breaths and the gentle clinking creak of the chains as Nathaniel swayed slightly, black spots dancing at the edges of his vision. Five days he'd been hanging by his wrists from the ceiling in this dungeon-like place, the silver  manacles digging burning teeth into his flesh in a searing, icy pain that shot up his arms, making him shake at the painful pleasure. But, the chains alone weren't enough. They never were anymore. So, he'd begged without a thought to pride, because he had none. Begged for more. And they had given it to him. His master had seen to it. He could feel the stickiness of blood down his back, clinging stubbornly to his bare buttocks and the backs of his thighs, his calves, and his feet where they arched on tip-toe on the cold concrete floor. His toes were the only part of him that could reach the floor at all, the weight of his body centered on his arms in the chains yet another way to intensify his painful pleasure. His toes stuck to the floor slightly when he attempted to move, blood dried in a puddle of tar-like brownish black, the scent only adding to the exquisite torture he was experiencing. First, his captors had used a cane on him, making him dance on his toes in joyful agony, his  moans echoing in the dimly lit basement, head thrown back in tormented ecstasy. But, even the sharp bite of the cane wasn't enough to fulfill him anymore. No, to experience the ultimate pleasure, he must feel more pain. More begging had gotten him a cat of nine tails, each leather strap tipped with a bit of razor sharp silver that burnt his flesh at every strike, the agony jolting him until he writhed limply, his knees giving out under the fiery siege of pain even as he cried out in near-bliss and screamed for more. His throat was parched and hoarse from screaming and lack of water, but it only served to heighten his senses, attuning him to every sound because he couldn't make any noise himself. He was dimly aware that he might've injured his larynx, if the coppery taste of blood in the back of his throat was any indication, but he didn't care. He was far beyond caring for anything but the next bout of exquisite torture. The anticipation was wonderful, despite the feeling of his beast clawing under his skin, aching to be free. The drugs they'd given him would prevent the change until the full moon. So, his beast thrashed irritably beneath his skin, making his heart throb painfully in his chest, his skin heating almost unbearably, and then came the pain that took his breath away and left him stripped naked of everything but his barest foundations. His clothes had been taken upon his arrival, but simple nudity wasn't the same. No, Nathaniel had to feel as if his soul, his very essence was laid bare. And the only way to accomplish that feeling of utter helpless abandon was to ride the heights of agony. There were nine torturers that came and went at odd hours, never the same one twice in a row, and never in any predictable pattern or schedule. Every nuance of his captivity was perfectly coordinated to leave him defenseless and at their mercy. It was the only way he could feel whole. The two women never touched him with their hands, instead giving him sharp caresses with silver knives and white-hot branding irons, smiling as he thrashed in the chains, howling to the ceiling, every nerve screaming. Nathaniel had no idea if it was day or night, nor did he care. He existed for nothing outside of this dungeon and the tortures it unleashed upon him. He had no identity outside of the pain. It was what broke him down, shattered him, and rebuilt him like a phoenix rising from the flames. The pain was Nathaniel, and he was the pain. The five men who came with whips and chains, and any other instrument of torture they could find, always touched him. They helped ground him with gentle words and soothing caresses, keeping him sane. They understood what the pain was to Nathaniel, but they also knew how to temper the teasing edge of death with the soft breath of life. For one to appreciate danger, they must be reminded occasionally what safety was, after all. Pain was nothing without pleasure. Life nothing without death. Nathaniel's favorite, his master, and the one who could give him the most pleasure, along with the most heart-stopping pain, was called Amante. He was a vampire who had been turned when his face still held the softness of childhood, but hinted at the sharp definition of becoming a man. Amante spoke to Nathaniel occasionally, and in his more aware moments, the wereleopard understood that he was given information about the youthful vampire that no one else possessed. Amante knew that Nathaniel would never repeat anything he said while in the dungeon. The wereleopard understood only too well that what was said or done to a pet while in chains never left his lips once the shackles were removed. It was the price a pet paid for the care and treatment of his master. So, Nathaniel knew that Amante had been sixteen when he was turned, and that he had woken in the snow in Gaul his first night as a vampire, naked and shivering like a newborn babe. And Amante knew that Nathaniel would keep the information to himself. Just like Amante would not speak of the way Nathaniel's body arched in pleasure when he was taken dry, and the vampire would never tell anyone that the wereleopard would plead for more pain even as he slipped into unconsciousness. Nathaniel let out a soft whimper as his legs refused to support him, five days without food or water having weakened him to the point that the blood loss had sapped his ability to stand upright. He jerked in surprised pain, moaning, as a cold hand dug into one of the lash marks on his back, running the length of the wound and coaxing his breath into short gasps as he felt himself harden anew. Cool lips pressed lightly against his neck, and Nathaniel's head turned slightly, baring a smooth column of flesh to the vampire behind him. He felt the hard press of fangs, but Amante only flicked his tongue out to lave his skin, tracing the wereleopard's fluttering pulse as a cold hand slid down Nathaniel's stomach to stroke him lightly. "It has been five days and nights, mon chat," Amante said softly, his lips brushing Nathaniel's ear as he spoke. "The time for pain is over, youngling. You have now earned your pleasure." Nathaniel whimpered in loss as Amante released his shaft and moved away, sagging dejectedly in the chains, the bite of the silver doing nothing to improve his feeling of abandonment. "Give the cub a warm bath. He is nearly as cold as I," Amante's voice drifted to Nathaniel dimly, piercing the haze of rejection he was feeling. "Once you've restored the feeling to his limbs, give him some broth and water, then bring him to my chambers. I will care for him myself until his time has come to leave us," the vampire said. "Of course, your lordship," a soft, feminine voice demurred. Collapsing bonelessly as the chains were released from him, Nathaniel moaned in the afterglow of torture, his body throbbing like it was one gaping wound. Giving himself over to the darkness that tore at his vision ruthlessly, Nathaniel knew that he would wake up in Amante's bed, so he did not fight. * * * * * Freshly bathed and fed, Nathaniel purred softly at the feeling of silk sheets sliding over his body as he rolled over in the massive bed, his hair falling around his face like a waterfall of wine-red satin as he faced the door. Amante stood framed in the doorway, hair the color of midnight falling straight to his waist, shining softly in the candlelight. "It is good to see some color in your cheeks again, mon chat," Amante said, moving to the bed with soundless steps. "I worry for you, Natani," he said, the pet name caressing Nathaniel like a lover's hand. "Why?" Nathaniel asked, reaching out and running a hand lightly over Amante's bare chest, tracing the soft planes of muscle and bone with relish, delighting in the coolness of the vampiric flesh. Amante caught Nathaniel's hand and kissed it lightly. "Because, mon chat, you have no limits," he said, crawling gracefully onto the bed to hover over Nathaniel, not touching, but so close that they shared the air. "I must exercise all of my control, because you have none. And I worry that you will one day find yourself with one who has no control." Nathaniel smiled slightly. "And you want to protect me?" Amante chuckled. "Yes, I find that I do, strangely enough. When we first met, I gloried that I had found someone who craved pain as I crave blood. Someone who would take every blow and beg for more…And now, four years later, I find that I no longer wish to cause you such pain. I find that I would rather hold you to me with gentleness than with agony. I wish that I could show you pleasure for its own sake, not tempered by pain." Nathaniel frowned. "Can you?" Amante smiled. "Ouí, mon chat," he said, lips hovering over Nathaniel's. "I could make you writhe in such pleasure that you would beg God to release you from your skin for being unable to stand it." Nathaniel's lilac eyes darkened in arousal. "Show me," he whispered, one hand rising to clutch at Amante's bare shoulder, trembling. The vampire smiled and put one hand lightly in the middle of Nathaniel's bare chest, nudging him back onto the silk sheets, his other hand pulling the cover away from the wereleopard's naked form, eyes the color of pure emerald roving over the golden-hued flesh lightly, lingering nowhere, but seeing everything. Laying passively, Nathaniel mewled in pleasure as Amante's hand slid oh-so-lightly over his chest, a feather-light touch that merely hinted at things to come. Straddling Nathaniel's hips, Amante gave him a reassuring smile, leaning down to bestow a gentle kiss on the wereleopard's lips, deepening it slowly as Nathaniel began to respond, unconsciously arching his body against the vampire's. With a soft sigh, Amante shifted to the side, drawing Nathaniel with him so that they lay face to face, their bodies forming an unbroken line, hips rocking against each other gently, hands flowing down smooth, unblemished skin in a never-ending quest to explore all that there was to discover. Nathaniel let out a breathy moan as Amante's lips trailed over his neck, tongue caressing his burning flesh soothingly as the vampire's hand tightened gently on his waist, bringing their lower bodies tighter together as they slid against each other slowly, their rhythm teasing passion into a slow burn of mutual desire. His pupils dilated, Nathaniel groaned as he felt the first touch of oil-slickened fingers pushing against his rear, and he slid his leg over Amante's hip loosely, leaving himself open and vulnerable to whatever the vampire wished to do to him. Amante dipped his head to claim Nathaniel's lips once more. "You trust so completely," he murmured, his lips brushing Nathaniel's in a silken caress. Nathaniel gave a soft sigh of pleasure and arched toward Amante in abandon, utterly pliant as his master replaced his fingers with his marblesque shaft, sliding into him slowly even as Nathaniel whimpered in need for more. Their bodies joined completely, Amante ran a hand lightly down Nathaniel's back as he began a slow rhythm, coaxing the wine-haired leopard to give in to the freedom offered by  letting go of his need for pain. Reluctantly, Nathaniel gave himself over to the slow burn of pleasure, rocking against Amante in a state of perpetual near-bliss, tears prickling in his eyes as his master murmured gentle assurances and whispered endearments. His beast stretching and rolling beneath his skin, satisfied and feeling safe, Nathaniel slid his arm around Amante's back so that they touched every place possible, his soft breathy moans and whimpers slightly muffled against his lover's neck as the pleasure began to swell subtly with every stroke of Amante's body inside of his. Nathaniel's breath caught in his throat, and cool fingertips tilted his face upward, soft velvety lips brushing against his for a moment. "Do you feel it, Natani?" Amante whispered softly. "Yes," Nathaniel breathed, his eyes slightly wide as he felt the slight tightening in his body that meant he wouldn't last much longer. "Shh…let yourself go, mon chat," Amante murmured, trailing his lips down Nathaniel's neck once again, teasing the skin lightly with tongue and teeth, swallowing a gasp of his own as he felt Nathaniel stiffen, his body clamping down on Amante's shaft like a vice. Closing his eyes in bliss, Amante gripped Nathaniel's buttocks, holding him against his body tightly as the pleasure washed over them both, and sank his fangs quickly and yet gently into Nathaniel's vein, heightening both of their pleasure as his mind caressed the wereleopard's, the link between blood, mind, and body making them both shudder, jerking in each other's arms, muscles spasming in ecstasy as they both spent their seed. Easing away from Nathaniel's mind, Amante licked the puncture wounds like a cat with cream until it quit seeping blood, then kissed Nathaniel, sharing the taste of his blood with him. Not relinquishing his hold on the wereleopard, Amante smiled contentedly. "Do you see, mon chat? Not all is pain. You do not have to be broken to be rebuilt." Nathaniel purred, his beast settling content within him as he snuggled into the vampire's slightly warmer embrace, oddly satisfied that the change in temperature was the result of his blood flowing sluggishly through Amante's veins. "I see…But you may have to show me again." Amante chuckled softly. "Ouí, mon chat. Until you cannot bear anymore."