TITLE: "Dark Desires"

Author: Andi

RATING: NC-17. WARNING: Contains Graphic M/M SEX, BDSM, Rape.

PAIRING: Phileas/Passepartout/Count Rimini.

FEEDBACK: Yes, to andigoth2000@yahoo.com

Flames will be extinguished by the mental fountain o' inspiration.

DISCLAIMERS: I don't own any of these hot guys. I personally can't see anyone WANTING to own a slimeball like Rimini, but to each his own. Though I DO have first dibs on PPT's clone! Suing me would only get you approximately 10$ in change & a lot of REALLY strange books, indie movies, and obscure CDs that no-one listens to but me. So, it's not worth your time.

NOTES: I was worried about posting this for fear of offending people, but was urged to post by the wondrous Denise, an awesome beta reader! Thanx DV! Part II coming SOON.........

 SPOILERS: They abound. For Eyes of Lazarus, Black Glove of Melchizedek, Rocket To the Moon, Crusader in the Crypt, In the Beginning, & Strange Death of Professor Marechal. You have been warned!

DARK DESIRES

By Andi

I don't know why I'm here.

What the hell am I doing?

It's a dark alley in the dead of night. I should be at home, asleep, with Passepartout curled into my arms.

Have I somehow been *drawn* here?

What ---

Is someone there?

Yes. At the end of the street. I can almost see them.......

*Rimini.* What ---

Oh God......*no.* NOOOOOOOO -----

******

I awaken slowly, not knowing where I am. I can't open my eyes --- sensation of blazing light scorching my irises if I dare to even squint.

The hell with it. I open my eyes anyway, to be confronted with a room full of blazing candles.

I can't move. Dear God. My hands are bound above my head, the leather thongs cutting into my wrists. My ankles are also bound, one to each post at the foot of the bed I'm lying on, my legs spread wide, my body stretched taut.

I'm naked. *Why* am I naked?

I can't speak. I slowly realize there's a leather gag in my mouth, tied tightly between my lips, something that feels suspiciously like a penis pressing down on my tongue, preventing me from making any sound louder than a stifled whimper.

*Ah, Mr. Phileas Fogg. You are awake at last.*

Was that voice in my head? Or was it spoken aloud? I can't tell.

*I have no need to speak aloud, Mr. Fogg. I have such a strong connection to you.*

Rimini's face swims into my clouded vision. I blink to clear my vision, and the visage of the dreadful creature becomes clearer. He's leaning over me, smiling, his fangs extending over his lips. Fiend.

What does he intend to do to me?

Rimini smiles slowly. *I have many delights in store for you this night, my lovely Mr. Fogg.*

In spite of myself, I feel the strength drain from my body. What does he mean by that? Why has brought me here, tied and gagged me, stripped me naked? WHAT IS GOING TO BE DONE TO ME?

I'm afraid.

*Good. I need to feel your fear, Mr. Fogg. I need to feel your pain.*

Pain? No .... please, no .... don't hurt me. I struggle against my bonds, whimpering as the cords dig into the tender skin of my wrists. Please don't hurt me.

Rimini runs his hand over my chest, soothing my agitated body. *You will feel the height of pleasure and the depths of pain on this night, my lovely one. We will -both- feel pleasure tonight. I have been waiting for your body for a long time, Mr. Fogg. Your loveliness does not disappoint me.*

His touch feels strange. I open my eyes and look down at my body. I realize that Rimini has shaved off all my body hair; I'm smooth from the crotch up.

*The better to feel your skin, my lovely.* Rimini trails his long, inhuman fingers down my now-smooth chest, one fingertip teasing my nipple. *Such a beautiful body. I will enjoy you thoroughly, Mr. Fogg.*

I squirm under Rimini's fingers. The soft finger pad stroking my nipple is sending incredible sensations through my body straight down to my cock. In spite of my fear and revulsion at being touched by this infernal creature, I feel myself hardening at his touch.

No! I can't stand the thought of this .... this .... abomination seeing the most intimate part of me aroused. I *cannot* let him excite me.

But my traitorous body has other ideas. My cock doesn't seem to differentiate between Rimini's touch and the touch of any other lover trying to arouse my passions. It's already jutting into the air, getting harder by the second.

*Ah, Mr. Fogg. Or should I say Phileas? You -do- want me. Your mind may resist, but your body is truthful.*

Again, that horrible smile, letting me see his evil fangs. For one terrible, fleeting moment, I imagine what those fangs could do to the more sensitive areas of my body. Rimini's smile widens. I *know* he hears my thoughts, as loud and clear as if I had screamed them aloud.

*Yes, dear Phileas, the more tender areas of your body -could- be savaged. But I will not do
that. Not ..... the first time.*

The first time? Dear God, no. He can't be planning .... to keep me in this infernal place, draining me, torturing me .... fucking me. No .... oh please, no .....

*You will be kept here as long as I wish for it to be so, Phileas. Now that I have control of your mind, you cannot escape me. You will be mine completely .... in body and soul, soon enough.*

For the first time I realize that Rimini is also naked. If I wasn't caught in such a desperate situation, I would admire the smooth muscles, the golden skin, the well-toned body. He *is* a very attractive man, as Rebecca said. If only he wasn't going to use that body to do God know what to mine.

Rimini moves his stroking fingers down to my rock-hard cock, caressing, teasing, arousing me even further. He curls his fingers around the shaft, and I moan against the gag, trying to pump my hips up against his hand, but restrained by the cords tying my spread legs to the bed. It's maddening, this not being able to move my body .....

Rimini laughs softly. *Frustrating, isn't it, Phileas? So aroused .... and no release in sight .... Do not worry, you will find release soon enough, my lovely.*

Rimini rubs his fingers across the tip of my weeping cock, thoroughly coating his fingers with clear, sticky fluid. He brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them, closing his eyes, obviously savoring the taste of me on his tongue. It's sexual and horrible at the same time.

He licks his lips and reaches between my legs again, this time fisting the throbbin shaft, fisting me almost painfully. He kneels by the bed, his face near mine.

*I have waited an eternity for this.*

With one fluid movement, he's on the bed .... kneeling between my spread legs. His head dives into my groin, taking my throbbing length into his mouth and sucking hard. I gasp, finally having the friction against my flesh that I've been yearning for. Oh God, so good .....

I can't help myself. The warm wetness of his hot mouth sucking my cock is more than I can stand. His tongue presses against the exquisitely sensitive ridge on the underside of my cock, then circles the flesh just under the head, prodding, caressing, moving to the tip of my cock, driving hard into the slit. I scream against my gag and come, struggling helplessly at my bonds, unable to voice my pleasure.

He keeps sucking until the last spasms have passed, finally letting my cock slip out of his mouth. He runs his tongue over the sensitive skin of my now-smooth groin, making me squirm under his searching mouth. It's a new sensation .... and a not entirely unpleasant one.

*And now, my dear Phileas --- now -you- will pleasure -me.- In the same manner.*

My eyes fasten on Rimini's crotch. Christ, his cock is *HUGE*, the head nearly twice the size of mine. My God, there is *no way* THAT will fit into my mouth. I shake my head, refusing. Rimini's eyes darken, not with passion, but with anger.

*You -will- pleasure me. I demand it.*

No! A thousand times, no!

*You have no choice.*

Rimini's hands are fumbling with the buckle behind my head that holds the leather gag so tightly in my mouth. The strap is loosened, and he pulls the gag out of my mouth. I see that there is some sort of leather phallus in the middle of the leather strip between my lips that had been pressing down on my tongue, forcing me to swallow convulsively every few moments. No wonder the gag had been so horribly uncomfortable.

I clamp my lips firmly closed. *No.* I will not.

*Open your mouth.*

No!

*OPEN YOUR MOUTH!*

NO, damn you! Nothing you can do to me will make me suck ..... THAT. I will not. I *cannot.*

*Do you realize what I can do to those you love?*

His inner voice is like the crack of a shot inside my head.

*I can easily kill your cousin, your handsome young friend Verne ..... even your French manservant, the man you love beyond all reasoning. I can kill them all. Without even trying. Unless you open your mouth to me. -Now.-*

I give up the struggle. What is the use? He's right. He can kill them all .... easily .... Rebecca, Jules, and my beloved Passepartout .... and not care. My cousin, my best friend, and the man I love more than life itself. And, besides, maybe if> I let him rape my mouth, he'll lose interest in any other parts of me .... particularly my arse.

I open my mouth.

Rimini thrusts himself into my mouth, hard. I gag as I feel his cock hit the back of my throat, then just as quickly pull out again, only to ram itself back into my mouth a moment later. He keeps thrusting into my open mouth, not giving me a chance to do anything other than gasp a deep breath between each thrust.

With a grunt, Rimini thrusts into my mouth one last time --- and stays there. My God, he's enormous. My jaw aches from the pressure of keeping my mouth open this wide. I close my eyes, praying this will be over soon ......

*Suck me, Phileas. Now.*

I obey the order. His psychic connection with me must be growing stronger as we become more intimate. It's getting harder for me to disobey him. I swirl my tongue around the enormous head, hearing him hiss with pleasure. I patiently work my tongue around every inch of the throbbing flesh filling my mouth, until he comes.

Rimini's seed fills my mouth, shoots down my throat. I swallow convulsively, managing to get most of the vile taste out of my mouth --- until Rimini pulls out halfway and continues to spasm in my mouth. I am forced to roll his semen around on my tongue like a fine wine before swallowing the last of it.

Rimini lies on top of me for a few moments, then retrieves the gag from the table beside the bed and shoves it between my lips again. The leather phallus pushing between my lips is almost a relief after the huge cock that has just raped my mouth. He buckles the gag behind my head, drawing the strap as tightly as it will go. I moan, once again reduced to an inarticulate, helpless prisoner.

Which is not altogether unpleasant. It is, in a way, rather exciting to be lying here, bound and gagged, helpless to defend myself, not knowing what delights/tortures my body will experience.

Rimini stands up, goes to the bottom of the bed. He unties the cords binding my ankles, but I still can't move. His mental power is holding me immobile. I'm no more than a helpless puppet to him. He looks up at me, and grins, letting me see his fang teeth once again.

Dear God, what is he going to do to me now?

He turns me over in one smooth movement.

No. Oh God, no. Not that. Anything but that.

I've never been penetrated by another man in my entire life. Rebecca has always thought it rather humorous that in my time in the Secret Service, I got away with never having to let another man shag me. She always ends her observations with "And they are probably rather sad about that. A very tempting arse you have indeed, Phileas." Ha.

My arse might be tempting, but it is entirely virginal. And I want it to stay that way.

I marvel at the fact that Passepartout lets me penetrate his arse, night after night after night. I know it feels good to him --- but I can't imagine having another man, not even my beloved Passepartout,> drive his cock into my arse hole. I can't believe that it wouldn't hurt like hell. Try as I may with Passepartout, I cannot bring myself to countenance anyone doing that to me. Not even my lover.

And now it looks as though the choice has been taken away from me. I am about to be penetrated, whether I like it or not.

I cannot imagine what Rimini's huge cock will do to my arse hole. That .... thing .... will tear me apart. I have a terrible momentary image of being torn irreparably, bleeding to death while Rimini rapes me over and over again.

I moan and struggle against my bonds with all my --- sad to say, feeble --- strength. It's no use. The bonds are cruelly tight. I only succeed in scraping my wrists raw.

*Spread your legs for me, Phileas.* Rimini's mental voice is soft, caressing. A lover's voice.

I can't help myself. The mental command is too strong for me. I spread my legs as wide as I can, exposing the most intimate parts of myself to the loathsome creature's sight.

Rimini begins to stroke my inner thighs, his fingers surprisingly soft and gentle on my tender skin. He works his way up to my buttocks, until his hands alternate between cupping my cheeks and caressing them. He slips his fingers into the crack of my arse, chuckling when I moan with pleasure in spite of myself.

I feel his fingers spreading my arse cheeks. Then a soft finger pad stroking over the quivering bud between my buttocks, again surprisingly gentle. No pain, just soft, gentle fingertips, caressing, stroking, arousing me to fever pitch.

His fingers feel slick. Has he oiled them? No matter. So soft .... mmmmmmm .....

Without warning, Rimini presses one finger against my arse hole, pushing it a little way inside me. I yelp against my gag, trying to pull away from his finger, but not having anywhere to go, other than grinding my crotch into the mattress.

The finger pulls out. It's a strange feeling .... being opened. As thought all my defenses are crumbling ....

*You have no defenses against me, Phileas. You are completely helpless. You are mine, to do with as I desire.*

I want to cry. He's right. I'm nothing but a helpless toy for him to play with. My pain, my pleasure .... none of it means anything to him. He can use me and discard me at his whim. And there is nothing that I can do to stop it.

I feel another finger working its way slowly into my arse hole, along with the first. Rimini scissors his fingers, widening me, opening me. I know he's preparing me for the granite column between his legs.

I'm afraid. No, not afraid. I'm terrified.

Rimini pulls his fingers out of me. In the next moment, I feel warm breath against my buttocks. What the hell --- ??

And then he's licking me.

Oh God, his tongue .... now I know what it must feel like for Passepartout when I tongue him from behind. Ohhhhhhhhhh .... don't stop. Please, don't stop. So soft .... so wet .... ohhhhhhh .... tongue .... lips .... mouth .....

Then his tongue enters me.

I realize I'm pushing my arse back against Rimini's face. His long, strong, inhuman tongue is pushing into me, tasting me in places no-one has ever been. His tongue finds my prostate, strokes it, again and again, until I'm nearly insensate with the intense pleasure.

I grind my crotch into the mattress under me as Rimini's tongue fucks my arse. Within moments, I come, my muscles tightening around his tongue, only making him thrust that damned inhuman appendage deeper inside me. When my spasms have stopped, he withdraws it and climbs off the bed.

I almost sob with relief. So, maybe he isn't going to rape my arse after all. Or --- horrible thought --- maybe he's saving that for another time? Letting me lie here, helpless, contemplating what is still to come?

*No, Phileas. I have something else planned for you.*

Rimini turns me over onto my back, spreading my legs and tying my ankles to the bedposts again. He runs his hands up my legs to my crotch, pushing his fingers between my buttocks again, stroking my hot, throbbing hole.

I moan and thrust my body back against his fingers. Two of the digits push inside me, sending a wave of pleasure through my body. I lift myself up, then push down again, fucking myself on Rimini's fingers.

*Yes, Phileas, take your pleasure. I know that you were not satisfied by our recent encounter.*

I can't stop myself. I move my body up and down on his fingers, wanting his fingers inside my arse, fucking myself as hard as I can. My cock is throbbing again, and Rimini bends his head to lick the clear fluid oozing from the tip.

That is too much for me. I come, moaning into the gag, my body twisting and jerking between the bedposts. The force of my third orgasm of the night brings tears to my eyes.

Rimini waits until my body has spent itself, until my chest stops its heaving. He moves his hand over my smoothness, his fingers tweaking my nipples.

*And now, for the grande denouement of the evening.*

He reaches for a bellpull beside the bed. In a moment, the door opens, and two of Rimini's vampire minions enter the room, dragging a naked, struggling man between them. The dim illumination of the now- nearly-extinguished candles makes it hard to see the man, but I can tell he is gagged with the same sort of the leather strip that silences me, and bound at the wrists.

I squint. He looks familiar .....

An icy wave of fear rushes over me. No. It can't be. Dear God, no.

The minions untie the man's hands, raising his arms above his head and tightening a pair of leather cuffs suspended from the ceiling around his wrists. They pull a rope attached to the cuffs, pulling the man's arms above his head until he's slightly off-balance.

He raises his head, his eyes widening when he sees me lying on the bed, obviously as helpless as he is.

It's Passepartout.

My love. My life. The one person I would have had remain untouched by the sordidness of my life. The one person I would give my life to have Rimini not know about .... and he's here, in this horrible place, naked, helpless. A captive for Rimini to taunt me with.

Rimini looks at Passepartout, smiles. My lover's face drains of all colour, seeing the evil fang teeth jutting below Rimini's bottom lip. He knows what Rimini will more than likely do to him. To both of us.

*I think we should let your lover join our privileged little circle, don't you think, Phileas? Hmmmmmm? It would be a shame for him not know our thoughts.*

Rimini advances toward Passepartout, baring his fangs.

NOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Rimini grabs Passepartout's curly hair and forces his head back. I see the gleaming fangs sink into my lover's throat.

Passepartout moans against his gag, tried to struggle, but it's useless. The way he's bound, his hands above his head, he can barely move, let alone marshal the strength to fight Rimini.

Rimini only drinks for a few seconds. Then he moves away from Passepartout, pressing his fingers against my valet's neck to stop the flow of blood. Passepartout's eyes are closed; he's obviously dazed by the sudden attack.

Rimini's eyes move between his two helpless captives, a smile quirking the corners of his lips.

Then he opens the psychic link between all three of us.

I realize what he intends to do. He's going to let Passepartout feel everything he does to me, and let me feel everything he does to Passepartout. Raping both of us, at the same time.

Bastard. Evil fucker.

*M-Master?*

It's all right, Passepartout. He hasn't hurt me.

*H-how ...?*

*Ah. A communication already. Excellent.*

Passepartout is crying, tears streaming down his cheeks. Rimini brushes the diamond-bright tears away, his touch almost gentle. I can feel his fingers on Passepartout's skin as if he were touching *me.*

*Ah. So handsome. I can see why Phileas has taken you as a lover. As would I. You are a very beautiful man .... Jean.*

A blush slowly spreads across Passepartout's face. Jean. I never call him Jean. I always call him Passepartout, even in our most intimate moments. And this *monster* has the balls to call him Jean.

Rimini encircles Passepartout's slender waist with one arm. Passepartout --- Jean, I must remember to call him Jean --- tries to pull away, but in his position, it's almost impossible. Rimini laughs softly, and lets his fingers move up to my lover's smooth chest, his fingers squeezing one rosy nipple.

GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF HIM!

*My, my, Phileas. Share and share alike.*

Rimini's soft mental laughter cuts through me. I can't even caress Passepartout in front of Rebecca and Jules, much less in public --- and here is this loathsome creature touching him intimately. My blood boils. I struggle wildly, twisting my body against my bonds.

*Master! No .... stop .... you will hurt yourself!*

There is such distress on Passepartout's face that I stop struggling.

Don't touch him!

*Oh, I will do much more than touch him. I will do whatever I please to him.*

Rimini turns Passepartout so that his back is to me. He puts one hand between Passepartout's buttocks, spreading his arse cheeks and stroking his finger across his arse hole, as he had been doing to me just --- moments? hours? --- ago.

In the position I'm lying in, I have a clear, unobstructed view of Passepartout's arse --- and what those long, slim fingers are doing to it.

"Mmmmmmmffffff!" The only sound I can make.

"Mmmmmmmmmppppppfffffff!" Passepartout answers me, his voice a terrified whimper.

*As you think so highly of your virginity, I will not take you, Phileas. However, since we both -know- that Passepartout has been penetrated before, many times, I have no compunction about taking -him-. And you will -watch-. You will watch every moment of Passepartout's suffering.*

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Leave him alone!

Only a mental gasp from Passepartout.

Rimini doesn't give either of us much time. He moves behind Passepartout, thrusting his enormous cock into my lover.

Passepartout's mental scream seems to go on and on forever, echoing inside my head. I can *feel* his pain, the thrusting, the tearing, the excruciating pain as Rimini's huge cock drives into his arse again and again.

It's infinitely worse than anything Rimini could have done to me. And he knows it. With the mental link he's established between all three of us, by raping Passepartout, he's also raped me, more cruelly than he could have if he had taken me by force.

I feel Rimini come inside Passepartout. My lover screams against his gag again as Rimini's seed fills him, as every spasm pours more bitter fluid into his raw body. Rimini finally withdraws, and I see a trickle of blood moving down Passepartout's thigh. There is blood smeared on Rimini's cock as well.

You bastard. I'll kill you for this.

*How can you kill me, Phileas? I am already dead, as you well know.*

He kneels in front of Passepartout, taking my lover's rigid, jutting cock deeply into his mouth. I feel his tongue moving over the sensitive flesh of Passepartout's manhood, curling around the shaft, sucking, bringing him to orgasm within a few short moments.

Rimini gets to his feet, walking over to a chair where he's apparently left his clothes. He begins to dress, watching both of us. Passepartout is sobbing softly, his body shaking. I lay there and watch Rimini, a thousand thoughts of how I would like to rip him into tiny pieces running through my head at lightning speed.

*Ah, Phileas, you know you cannot kill me. I know your thoughts, my love. You are aroused as well as repulsed by my touch. What was done to you tonight is only the beginning. You and Passepartout both still have much to learn from me.*

He steps over to the bed, and loosens the cords that bind my wrists. Not much, but enough for me to loosen them completely if I work at them long enough.

Aloud he says, "And I bid you both a good night, mes cheries."

And then he's gone.

I work patiently to free my wrists from the tight leather cords. After what seems like an eternity, they fall away. I sit up, ignoring the protests of my bruised body, and untie my ankles.

I nearly fall off the four-poster bed in my haste to get to Passepartout. I quickly unfasten the cuffs that hold his wrists above his head. He collapses into my arms, his face against my shoulder, his arms going around my waist, pressing my close to him.

"M-M-Master ....." His voice is a broken whisper.

I feel horrible. Poor Passepartout has endured so much more than I have this night --- or has he? Physically, at least. I shudder to think of the pain he must be suffering.

"Let's get you home, Passepartout." That is all I can think of to say.

I shrug into my clothes and wrap a blanket around my trembling lover. I find that Rimini has left a carriage --- how very kind of him, to provide transportation for his victims, I think sarcastically --- and within the hour, we are back at Savile Row.

And now it is morning, and I cannot sleep.

It is not only the pain of my raw and abused body that keeps me awake.

It is my bruised and battered mind.

Was he right?

Did his touch, his mouth, his cock, arouse me as much as he obviously believes?

Yes. Damn him to hell, the answer is yes.

And it *will* happen again. Of that I have no doubt.

I can only wait. With a mixture of dread, fear ---

And overwhelming desire.

******

Another sleepless night.

I don't know what I'm feeling --- terror, anticipation .... arousal?

Yes, definitely arousal. The mere thought of Rimini's hands stroking my body again already has me hard.

Damn him damn him damn him to hell. And while I'm at it, I may as well damn *myself* --- for being utterly unable to resist him.

After what that monster did to Passepartout, why can't I hate him? WHY?

I *DO* hate him. But .... I also desire him. And the fiend *knows* it.

He has such control over my mind .... and, apparently, my body as well.

Rimini has unleashed a new sensation in my mind, as much as the physical sensations he's forced my body to endure.

I know what it is. Something I never thought I would feel. Shame.

**** **** ****

It's been four nights. Four long, sleepless, soul-searching nights.

Four nights of my body burning for his touch, four nights of being so painfully aroused by the mere thought of him that the slightest touch can send me over the edge.

I can't go to Passepartout. It's impossible for me to even consider making love to him. Not
with the thoughts of Rimini's hands, his mouth, his cock still in my head. That deranged monster has already done enough damage to my beloved. I will not let him touch Passepartout again.

Jean. That .... creature .... called him Jean. Something I cannot bring myself to do, even in our most intimate moments. Damn.

And Passepartout --- Jean, dammit! Jean! --- does't need me for sex. Not after what Rimini did to him. He needs .... comfort. And I feel so guilty --- holding him, caressing him, letting him sleep in my arms --- when all the while my body is burning for the touch of the creature who raped him.

I've tried to satisfy myself with my own hands, imagining it's Rimini who touches me .... but it isn't the same. No-one --- not even Passepartout --- has been able to arouse me as much as he does.

The marks on my throat are growing fainter.

But the desire for him is growing stronger.

It's too hot. I can't sleep. Maybe if I go downstairs .... have a drink ....

Ah. Better. Damned nightshirt. The air is cool against my naked skin .... but it doesn't cool the heat of my desire, scorching me from within.

I open the door to Passepartout's room, just a crack, just to make sure he's all right. He is sleeping soundly, safely. Sweet Passe --- Jean. My Jean.

Downstairs, the air is cooler. I get a half- full bottle of sherry from the liquor cabinet. Ah. Well, maybe *this* will send me to sleep ....

The image of Rimini and I together slams into my brain with a ferocity that makes me gasp.

My cheeks burn with shame as the memory of my wanton actions returns to me with crushing force.

Rimini's inhumanly long, slim fingers thrusting into my arse .... and me pumping myself up and down on those fingers, fucking myself on his hand.

I choke. Another memory crashes into my head.

Rimini's monstrous cock in my mouth --- and me sucking at it, feeling his release down my throat, tasting him on my tongue.

*Why* am I remembering this so vividly *now*?

Suddenly I'm pushed back on the couch cushions. Unable to move. Unable to speak. Almost unable to breathe.

He's here. On top of me.

*Ah, Phileas. So lovely to see you again so soon. And naked, too. You must have been waiting for me, hmmmmmm?*

I can't move, can't think. This is what I've spent four agonizing days waiting for .... longing for .... dreading ....

*Open your mind, Phileas. You cannot hide your desires from me.*

I feel his mind probing into mine, uncovering the shameful desire for him that I've tried so hard to hide .... even from myself. It's almost as much of a violation as if he'd pushed his cock into me.

But he's right. I can't hide from him. Even if my thoughts don't betray me, my body will.

He will know just how much I want him .... the instant he touches me.

The fiend strokes my cheek, bending over me, his breath warm against my face. I can't look away from his eyes, boring into mine.

He knows. He knows I want him.

*Yes, beautiful Phileas. And I want -you.-*

He takes me into his arms and covers my mouth with his, his long tongue pushing between my lips. His tongue is stroking mine, probing my mouth in time with his hands stroking my body. I'm helpless to stop this.

I don't want it to stop.

Rimini enfolds me in his arms and carries me to the fur rug in front of the fire. Instantly, a fire springs up in the grate --- another talent of his, I suppose, he'll never have to carry matches --- and throws light over the room.

The same rug that Passepartout and I first made love on.

Passepartout!

*Do not worry, dear Phileas. Jean will not know what is happening here tonight.*

Don't hurt him!

*I will not touch Jean. I give you my word. It is not Jean I want. It is you.*

To my utter disgust, a single tear rolls down my cheek.

*Jean will not wake. He will never know that I have been here. And he will not be harmed.*

Thank you.

*You have little to thank me for, Phileas. I mean to make you suffer .... terribly .... over the coming time.*

Weeks? Years? My lifetime?

*As long as I want you.*

A chill sweeps through my body. I can't stand this. It's only been four days, and the suffering is already nearly unbearable.

*Not that kind of suffering, my beauty.*

I realize what he means. Physical suffering. Pain.

No. Please, no. Don't hurt me.

*In time, you will welcome the pain, Phileas. It will be a release.*

I try to shake my head, to negate the horrible words. I can't move.

I realize that the bonds, the gag, were just an added visual stimulation for Rimini. The power of his mind is holding me as helpless now as I was when I was bound and gagged on his bed.

Rimini chuckles and cups my chin in his hand, forcing me to look into his eyes.

*Yes, lovely one, I enjoy seeing you helpless. Lips as tempting as yours -should- be gagged.*

He reaches for his cravat, long fingers pulling the knot loose. I know what he's going to do with it. He reaches into his breast pocket, pulling out a silken handkerchief embroidered with his initials.

AR.

Rimini releases his mental hold on me just enough to let me struggle against him as his hands move over my face, stuffing the handkerchief into my mouth. Then his fingers are moving against the back of my head as he ties the cravat tightly between my lips.

The mental pressure is suddenly gone. I still can't move, but I no longer feel the pressure against my vocal cords, silencing me.

No, this time I'm silenced physically. It's not as uncomfortable as the leather gag he used on me before, but still .... constricting.

"Mmmmmmfffff!" The only sound I can make.

I still can't move.

*Now, Phileas. Did you think I would release you completely? Don't be ridiculous.*

Well? What happens now?

*Hmmmmmm. Do not be so eager, my beautiful one. All in good time. Some rope, if you please.*

A length of leather cord is in his hand. I blink. Where the hell did that come from? Can he .... call in objects from thin air?

Apparently he can. Rimini rolls me over on my stomach and binds my wrists at the small of my back. At least he can't bind my legs.

Rimini is cupping my arse cheeks, his hands warm, caressing. The mental grip is still holding me in place, unable to move.

*Spread your legs for me, Phileas.*

I have no choice but to obey. I spread my legs wide, torn between desire and terror.

I feel Rimini's fingers stroking the backs of my legs, his hands working their way up to my buttocks. He uses his long fingers to spread my arse cheeks apart, brushing one digit across the tender opening between my buttocks, arousing me unbearably.

Go on, put it in. *Put it in!*

He laughs softly.

*No, my sweet. This is what I meant when I said you would suffer.*

And he keeps stroking me, for what seems like forever. What starts as pleasure quickly becomes excruciating. I can't .... no .... unnhhhhhh ....

After what feels like eternity, he turns me over. I can't stop my body from arching upward, toward his hands, his mouth.

*How does it feel, Phileas? How does it feel to be betrayed by your own body? How does it feel to know that your body desires me as much as your mind hates me?*

Please .... no more .... I can't stand it ....

*Hmmmmm......let us make the connection a bit stronger.*

Rimini pulls my head back, exposing my throat. His gleaming fangs descend toward me.

If I wasn't gagged, I would scream.

Mentally, I'm shrieking.

His fangs dig into my throat. At first, it feels as though my skin is burning, melting in the intense heat. Then an icy coolness spreads through me, and I can feel the blood being sucked out of my body.

It's not entirely unpleasant.

In fact, what blood is left in my body seems to be going straight to my cock. It's pulsing with vivid life, leaking freely at the tip. I feel as though I'll explode at the slightest touch.

I have never been so thoroughly aroused in my life. Every pore of my body is throbbing, radiating desire.

Is it Rimini's touch --- or that fact that he's sucking my life out of me that is arousing me to a fever pitch?

Abruptly, he stops. I moan against my gag as the incredible sensations fade, warmth again returning to my body.

The psychic connection between us is stronger than ever. I can almost feel him breathing.

*Now, you will feel my pleasure --- and I yours.*

I realize what this means. I will be able to feel Rimini's pleasure when he takes me. Oh dear God.

I will, in effect, be making love to myself.

*That is correct, dear Phileas. You will feel my pleasure --- and your own pain.*

Fiend. Monster. Pervert.

*And your lover, Phileas. Do not forget to add that title to the list.*

Rimini fishes about in his jacket pocket for a moment, finally withdrawing two small silver clamps. What the hell are *those* for --- ?

I find out.

He clamps one to each of my nipples. I wince as a quicksilver pain flashes through my body, and is just as quickly gone.

Without a word, Rimini lowers his mouth to my crotch. He spreads my legs even wider with his
hands, his long fingers stroking my inner thighs.

He pushes my knees up against my chest.

No. He can't. Not here.

*No, Phileas. Not yet. You have a while to wait before .... being deflowered.*

His hand moves down between my buttocks again. In the position I'm in, he has easy access. The damnable stroking against my arse hole begins again, but now his fingers are harder, rougher.

After a few minutes, it starts to hurt.

And, God help me, I want those fingers inside me.

*Patience, my beauty. Patience.*

Rimini strokes my arse hole until I'm open, throbbing. One finger presses against me, slips inside. Then another. Ohhhhhhhhh ....

His fingers rake against my prostate. God .... a third fingers slips into me. It hurts.

*Satisfy yourself, Phileas. Now.*

I can't help myself. With the connection between us made so much stronger by him drinking more of my blood, I'm completly helpless to disobey any command Rimini gives me.

I pump my arse on his fingers, fucking myself as hard as I can.

Rimini's other hand moves to my chest, and flickers across my nipples.

A commingling of pleasure and pain bursts into my consciousness. The silver clamps seem to dig into my nipples, while at the same time waves of pleasure rush through my body, radiating from my chest.

Unnnhhhhhhhhhh.

I'm right on the verge. Only another few thrusts ---

Then Rimini's fingers are gone. I'm left hanging, my cock jutting painfully into thin air, my body thrusting against nothing.

Rimini hauls me to my knees, moving behind me and pressing my body against his. His fingers move teasingly over my rigid cock, then are just as quickly gone. Damn.

*Bend over.*

I obey, pressing my hot cheek into the soft fur. I feel Rimini spreading my legs, spreading my cheeks. Again.

His fingers are cupping my balls. Stroking, caressing, tugging.

Warm breath.

Then, his tongue against my arse hole.

And inside.

*Do not move, Phileas. Be still.*

I have no choice but to obey.

This is too much. His tongue, soft and warm, stroking my prostate .... his hands still cupping my balls, stroking the exquisitely sensitive knot on each testicle, stopping when he knows I'm nearing climax. I can't stand it.

He pulls his tongue out of me, licking and kissing around the tender hole. Then his lips move down, taking my balls between his lips, sucking, tonguing. My God. So good ....

He moves back to my hole, finding me slightly open, pushing his long, strong tongue inside, then pulling it out again, teasing me. Fucking my arse hole with his tongue.

What would it feel like to have a cock there?

*You will discover the answer to that, Phileas. Patience. Soon you will be fulfilled.*

No! I don't want that .... thing .... inside me. I'd rather die.

*You -do- want it. And you shall have it.*

NO!

*Do you think you can stop me? You are my plaything, Phileas. A pretty toy for me to use and discard at my pleasure.*

He's right.

God help me, I *do* want it.

I've never been so afraid in my life.

His tongue is still working at my arse hole. It's beginning to hurt. As though he senses my discomfort, Rimini takes his mouth away. I groan against my gag as the warm tongue leaves my hole, torn between pain and pleasure.

Rimini pulls my body back against him again, his hands stroking my stomach.

*So smooth .... much better. I shall have to shave you again soon. Only this time, you shall be awake to savor the experience.*

I shudder. That's one experience I don't wish to have.

*Ah, but you will. I will make it rather .... pleasurable.*

I bet you will.

*Do you doubt my ability to give you pleasure?*

No. Not at all. I know only too well how much he can pleasure me.

But I also realize how painful he can make it, if he chooses to.

*Ah. Pleasure or pain. Or both.*

In one swift movement, he removes the small silver clamps from my nipples, dropping them to the floor with a soft "clink."

Then his fingers are rubbing my nipples.

The most excruciating pain mixed with the most exquisite pleasure sears through my body. My nipples have been so sensitized by the clamps that any touch is painful/pleasurable at the same time. I nearly double over, but Rimini's arms keep me from moving.

He keeps rubbing my nipples, knowing full well what I'm feeling. He can feel it himself.

It feels incredible.

It hurts.

Pleasure and pain. With the pleasure --- just barely --- winning out.

He's still rubbing my nipples.

Bastard.

Rimini lowers me to the floor. He brushes his lips gently across my nipples, sending a last rush of sensation through me.

He hasn't touched the hardness between my thighs. Almost as if he's intended to ignore my desperate need of release.

*That is what I mean by suffering, Phileas. No release. Not tonight.*

What?

He laughs softly.

*It is much worse than being taken, no?*

Yes.

I realize my face is wet. I'm crying.

Please! I can't bear this.

*No. Not yet. You will suffer first.*

Rimini leans over me, reaching behind my back and loosening the leather cords enough for me to free my hands. But not yet. I still can't move.

*Good night, my beautiful angel. I have enjoyed you greatly tonight. As I will on many more nights to come.*

Wait! When? Where?

*When you do not expect it.*

He presses a last kiss against my nipple.

He's gone.

I pull my hands free of the cords and sit up, my bruised body aching in rather uncomfortable places. I can't believe he's left me like this.

Without thinking, my hands move between my legs. I'm stroking my aching cock with both hands, desperate for release.

No. Wait.

As if in a dream, I move one hand to my arse hole. I gasp against my gag as I push one finger into myself.

The sensation is incredible. I never thought that touching myself could bring such pleasure.

I slip another finger inside, and move my other hand on my throbbing cock, squeezing, pumping.

I move my fingers in and out of my arse hole in time with my pumping hand.

Within moments, I come, the force of my orgasm making me sob against the cloth in my mouth.

I lay on the rug for what seems to me like a lifetime. Finally, I roll over on my stomach and raise my hands to the back of my head, pulling at the knotted gag. I loosen it and pull it out of my mouth, flinging it across the floor.

Despite myself, a sob breaks out of me. Then another.

Then I'm crying, deep racking sobs that I can't hold back.

I sit up and double over, pressing my burning face against my knees.

Is this what he intended? That I would be *forced* to fuck myself?

Yes.

Sadistic. Cruel. Monstrous.

And my lover. God. As much as I hate to say it, Rimini *is* my lover, as much as Passepartout is.

Even more so. Rimini has allowed me to explore a dark side of myself that I never knew existed.

He will be back. He *will* take me?

Was that a threat or a promise?

The voice is dark with desire in the back of my mind --- but I hear it as clearly as if his lips brushed my ear.

*A promise.*

God help me.

I am beyond help.

***********

I stay where I am for a long time, my face pressed against my knees, waiting for my sobs to subside. I can't stop crying.

How can I live like this?

A shriek tears through the still air.

PASSEPARTOUT!

I get to my feet, ignoring the aches of my bruised body, and rush up the stairs to Passepartout's door. My hand freezes on the doorknob.

What will I find inside?

If that monster has hurt Passepartout ....

What will I do? Kill him? Ha.

There is nothing I *can* do.

I open the door.

Passepartout is sitting up in bed, his hands covering his face. He seems to be all right, thank God. Just frightened. Maybe he was dreaming.

I cross the room and take my lover in my arms. He's trembling, his body shaking in violent spasms.

"Jean? What is it? What's happened? Are you all right?"

Jean. I called him Jean. And it seemed to come to me so naturally.

He turns his face into my shoulder and doesn't speak. I can feel his tears, wet against my skin. After a moment, his arms go around me, hugging me to him.

"M-Master .... h-he ...." He can barely speak.

He? Rimini?

Does my lover *know* what has just taken place downstairs?

"Ssssshhhhhhhhh, Jean .... it's all right. I won't let anything happen to you." Empty promises. He knows as well as I do that I cannot stop Rimini if he chooses to take Passepartout again.

I push my lover back against the cool pillows. Hopefully, I can comfort him enough to send him back to sleep.

Then I see the two livid puncture wounds on his throat, crimson against his pale flesh.

He *promised.* He said Jean would never know he was here .... he *said* that my love wouldn't be harmed.

I should have known better than to trust him.

I press my fingers against the wounds on Jean's throat, as if that could make them disappear. I can feel his pulse throbbing beneath his skin. Or is that the bite marks, throbbing with a life of their own?

"He was here. He hurt you." My voice is flat, expressionless.

Passepartout turns his face away from me. I feel a flicker in the back of my mind, slowly growing stronger.

Shame.

Am *I* feeling what Passe --- Jean is feeling? Is the psychic link Rimini established between all of us growing stronger each time the monster feeds? It must be. For, God help me, I am anything *but* ashamed of what has happened between myself and Rimini.

No. My feelings are guilt .... and desire.

Guilt that my traitorous body should feel such pleasure at the hands of the sadistic fiend who raped my lover so brutally .... and desire burning in me to feel that pleasure again.

"Y-yes .... he was here. He .... bite me." Jean raises trembling fingers to his throat, gingerly touching the livid wounds. "I couldn't call to you .... I couldn't breathe ...."

He dissolves into helpless sobs. I gather him into my arms, stroking his back, murmuring soft words into the silken softness of his hair.

"It's all right, Jean .... ssshhhhhhh .... it's all right .... you are safe with me."

Ha. As if either of us can ever be safe as long as Rimini is around. That psychic link can lead him to us no matter where we go, no matter where we try to hide.

I lie down beside Jean, and we snuggle against each other until his sobs subside. Within the coments, I hear his quiet, regular breathing, and I know he's fallen asleep in the comfort of my arms.

His head is resting against my shoulder. He fits so well against me. It feels entirely natural for him to be sleeping like this, his naked body pressed against mine.

I look down at him. So many times I've watched him sleep like this ....

Like the first time we made love, after coming back from the fight that finally destroyed that damned glove.

Passepartout doesn't think I know what happened to him in that fight. I do.

I felt such satisfaction in seeing that evil Chinese bugger die such a terrible death --- justice for what he did to my beloved Jean.

The thought of another man *daring* to touch my love in the way he did .... no. I won't think about that. It's over, and he's gone. And that was the first night Jean and I were together.

Then when my father's remains disappeared .... Jean came to me in my room at Shillingworth Magna, and held me for hours while I cried out my pain, and my guilt at never having made amends with him. I shudder to think what my emotional condition would have been had he not been with me.

We did not make love that night. He would not allow me to assuage my grief by using his body, which was probably for the best. But his love .... his patience .... his understanding helped me get through a very difficult time.

It touched my heart when he cried along with me. My sweet Jean. He is so incredibly sensitive to the feelings of those he loves.

For one horrible moment at Marechal's castle, I thought I had lost him forever.

I will never forget the moment when I hauled myself into the frozen Aurora, to see Passepartout covered with frost. For one heart-stopping, horrifying moment, I thought he was dead.

I wanted to die too. I wanted to jump from the Aurora and break every bone in my body.

It would not have been a worse pain than losing the man I love.

I made love to him over and over again that night. I let him sleep for an hour or so, and then awakened him and slipped inside him again and again. I couldn't stop touching him, fucking him .... I had to know that he was alive, and safe.

Poor Passepartout. He was so sore the next day. He was a bit miffed about that. He refused to let me make love to him for nearly a week --- the longest I have gone without the pleasure of his body since we became lovers.

The worst was that damnable card game.

I should have known better than to place that wager. I was stupid enough to think that I could not lose.

I lost. I lost everything.

But I could not bring myself to care about the loss of the Aurora --- even of my family home. What were they compared to the loss of the love of my life?

They meant nothing. Passepartout meant .... everything.

It was such a relief to find that I had been cheated --- that I could take back my lover *and* my property.

No. The worst was not the card game.

The worst was discovering the whip welts that had been seared across Passepartout's back. It was a good thing we were safely back home when I saw them. Otherwise, every servant in that castle would have been *dead.* I have never been so enraged in my entire life.

That was another night that I made love to him several times.

But the memories of our intimacies cannot begin to compare with the sweetness of being here, now, and holding him in my arms, feeling his body against mine, the warmth of him, the softness of his skin, the beat of his heart.

I would die without this.

************

I must have dozed off.

Passe --- Jean --- is still asleep in my arms.

God, he is so beautiful. How did I ever live without him in my life?

I think I first realized I loved him when he was possessed by the spirit of Lazarus. When that oily Dr. Draco as good as kidnapped him and kept him in that terrible place.

I nearly fainted when Jules and I entered that room and saw what Draco had done to Passepartout. I could barely focus on freeing him from the chains; I only wanted to tear Draco limb from limb. He had said he would take care of Jean; he had not said that his concept of "care" included what I --- and any sane person --- would consider to be torture.

I wanted so badly to go to him then, after we had returned from dispatching Lazarus for good; but I didn't dare. I thought he would be horrified, repulsed that I desired him.

I was so wrong.

It saddens me to think of all the time I have wasted that I could have been with him.

Ah, no matter. We are together *now.* And forever.

Passepartout stirs in my arms. Is it the intensity of my thoughts that has shaken him awake?

His eyelids flutter open, and he gives me a rather sleepy smile.

My breath catches in my throat. God, he is *so* beautiful. Seeing him like this, knowing that he is mine --- heart, body and soul --- and knowing that he loves me, is almost painful.

What have I done to deserve such love, such loyalty? And from someone as rare and wonderful as my sweet Jean?

Nothing. I have done nothing to deserve him. Like everything else in my life, he was given to me. He has fallen into my arms too easily.

I have always been a selfish bastard, but I am profoundly grateful for having Jean in my life.

"Master?" His voice is soft, sleepy, a little confused. "What is wrong? Is morning yet?"

"Nothing is wrong, Passe --- Jean. Go back to sleep."

"You are calling me Jean." He smiles, and my heart melts. "You have never called me Jean."

I trace his beautiful lips with the tip of my finger. "I am calling you Jean now."

His smile fades. "H-he called me Jean too."

I cannot bear to see the fear in his eyes. Fucking Rimini. That .... monstrous abomination. I can deal with what he has done to me .... but I will *not* allow him to terrorize my beloved Jean any further. Not while there is still breath in my body.

I wrap my arms more securely around him, his body trembling against mine. If only I could erase the evil memory .... but I can't. All I can do is comfort him as best I can.

"Sssshhhhhhh, Jean. It's over. He will not hurt you again. I won't allow it."

"You cannot stop him, M-Master."

I know, Jean. I know.

I draw back and look deep into his eyes --- those beautiful, dark chocolate eyes that have never ceased to mesmerize me from the first time I saw him.

"I will protect you from him as long as I am alive, my Jean. No-one will ever hurt you again, as long as I can possibly prevent it. I promise you that."

A promise to him --- and to myself. For I could not live with myself knowing that I had let my shameful desire for that foul creature touch the man I love with all my heart.

"I know you will, Master. And I will protect you too."

I feel a rush of emotion --- love? desire? fear? all of them, mixed together --- that grows stronger as it pushes to the forefront of my mind. Is this what Passepartout is feeling now?

It must be. And what I am feeling as well.

It seems that the link between us allows us to experience the emotions of the other, even when Rimini's presence is not manifest. I can't tell what Jean is thinking --- but I *can* assimilate his feelings.

It's strange, yet heady, exciting. It's as though my lover's emotions are laid bare before me.

And mine before him.

Oh God. Can he *feel* my desire for Rimini's touch?

Or does he assume that desire is for *him*?

I *do* want Jean. I *DO*. I have wanted him from the moment I laid eyes on him.

But is my desire for Rimini stronger? Is my heart's intense love for Passepartout strong enough to overcome my traitorous body's lust for the fiend who has, in a sense, violated both of us?

I suppose we will find out eventually.

I know Rimini will be back. He has unfinished business with me. And he will use Jean to strike at me, in any way he can. My promises to protect Jean are as empty as my heart would be without him.

I pull Jean even tighter against me, burying my face in his soft dark hair. As though he can sense my distress, his arms tighten around my waist, and we lie entwined in each other's arms.

How long do we lie together, feeling nothing but each other, hearing our hearts beat, listening to the rhythm of each other's breathing? I don't know. It seems like forever. It's not long enough.

Finally, Passepartout looks up at me. His eyes meet mine .... and I am profoundly moved by the depth of love I see in them. He loves me. I don't know why, but he does.

And I love him.

I can't resist kissing that beautiful mouth .... those soft, full lips that have tantalized me from the first moment our eyes met, so long ago on the night of that fateful card game, when our lives --- our destinies --- became linked.

Mmmmmmmmm .... heaven could not be any more than this. His mouth, his eyes, the warmth of his body .... and he is mine. Mine to hold, mine to kiss .... mine to love.

I can feel him hardening against me. Just as I am hardening at his touch, his kiss.

How could I ever have thought that Rimini had the power to arouse me like this? The desire I've felt for him is nothing compared to the love I feel for Jean.

Love versus desire. I know which one I would rather have.

I let my hand move down Passepartout's slim body to gently cup his buttocks with one hand. He gasps, pulls away.

How could I be so infernally stupid? He must still be in terrible pain.

"Jean, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you .... I'm so sorry."

"Is all r-right, Master. Is not so bad now. Y-you can touch me, I d-do not mind." His voice is trembling as much as his body.

How could I have forgotten so quickly what a terrible violation he suffered? I feel horrible. After just swearing to protect my lover, the first thing I do is cause him more pain.

I am just as much of a monster as Rimini. A hot wave of shame at what I have inadvertently done to Passepartout washes over me.

"No, Master. You are nothing like .... him. Do not feel badly .... is not your fault."

He felt that?

Jean nods at me solemnly. I *am* an idiot. If I can feel his emotions, of course the link will allow him to feel mine as well. And he has always been so sensitive to the feelings of those he loves .... maybe the psychic link Rimini created has caused that sensitivity to intensify.

"I love you." Oh, the intensity of those softly whispered words.

Which one of us said them?

It does not matter. We both *feel* them.

I kiss him again, harder, my mouth slanting over his, our tongues probing each other's mouths. Bliss.

But that is as far as this goes ... at least for tonight. Neither of our abused bodies is ready for anything more .... meaningful. That will come later, when we have both recovered from the dreadful experiences of the past few days.

*If* we recover.

We break away from our embrace, reluctantly. Our bodies are both too aroused by this physical closeness. I know that if I do not disentangle my body from Jean's, I may throw caution to the winds and let my desires override my good intentions.

I lie on my back, looking at him, admiring the smooth skin, the well-defined muscles .... and the thick hardness between his legs. I love Jean's cock. It's beautiful, large and thick, but not too long to deep throat. He has the most perfect cock I have ever seen.

I can't resist reaching out, stroking gently down the shaft with my fingertips, caressing the sensitive ridge on the underside, my fingers ever so softly circling the pink glans, rubbing against the oozing slit at the tip. Oh God, he's beautiful.

The skin of his cock is so soft, so sensitive .... but there's steel underneath the deceptive softness. He's rigid, throbbing, his breath coming in little gasps.

Nothing to be done now but stroke him to completion. Which I am only too happy to oblige him with.

I feel his fingers wrapping around the shaft of my own cock, and move closer to him until our hips are touching. His hand moves up and down on> me, stroking, pumping. Ahhhhh .... so good.

Which of us comes first? I don't know.

We lie there, basking in the warm afterglow of our lovemaking. It feels so good just to have him beside me, his hand stroking up my body, over my stomach, my chest.

My hand is moving over him as well, fingers caressing his sensitive, hard little nipples. I can't help smiling. Jean is so responsive, even after we have just made love.

He smiles shyly. "I like this."

"What? Us being together?"

"Well, yes, that .... and this." He taps my chest with a slender finger. "Being able to feel your skin."

Hmmmmm. If he likes it .... maybe I should reconsider keeping the chest hair off. It could be an interesting proposition ....

*I like it as well.*

I can't move. My body is frozen, my vocal cords unable to utter a sound. I can only move my eyes to the side to look at Jean.

He's apparently unable to move too, judging from the look of panic on his face.

Rimini.

*Yes, my beauty. I have decided that I could not let the evening go by without paying the two of you a visit .... especially as you have entertained me so beautifully already.*

*He saw?* Passepartout's mental voice. The monster must have opened the link between all three of us.

*Apparently.* Amazing how my mental voice can be as dry and sarcastic as my actual words would have been, could I speak.

*Yes, mes cheries, I saw. And I approve. It was a lovely performance.*

*Fuck you, Rimini! Get out of our heads!* I throw the words at him.

*No, my beautiful Phileas. I believe it is -I- who will be fucking -you-.* His gaze moves to Passepartout, moving insolently up and down my lover's body. *I have enjoyed Jean immensely. Perhaps I will again.*

*NOOOOOOOOO!* My mental shriek is deafening even to me.

*Enough of that, Phileas.*

My mental voice is cut off as smoothly as my vocal ability has been extinguished. It's as though Rimini has slapped a gag over my mouth, both mentally and physically.

*Mmmmmmmffffff!* It's the only sound I can make. I can't stand this. It's bad enough not to be able to speak, but to be silenced mentally .... PLEASE! DON'T!

*No, Phileas. I think I will let you suffer for awhile. I find your distress to be rather .... intoxicating.*

*No, please! Let him go!* Passepartout's mental voice, begging, pleading with Rimini. *Do not hurt him, please! I will do anything you want .... anything .... But do not hurt him!*

*Ah, sweet Jean.* Rimini moves closer, bends over my lover, one finger moving down the center of Jean's chest, down to his navel. *This will be an interesting night. -Two- beauties to .... sate my appetite with.*

I can feel Passepartout's overwhelming fear. After what he's already suffered at the whim of this perverted beast, I don't wonder that he's terrified.

What will he do to Jean? To both of us?

*The night is just beginning, my lovelies.*

Dear God, help us.

Please.

Someone .... anyone .... help us.

*There is no help for you.*

He's right.

Oh my God.

*************

END PART 3