Warnings: This fic contains bondage and S&M themes. If that's not your thing, don't read it and then come whining to me. You have been warned.

Author's note: Many, MANY thanks go to D and Ebony for beta-reading (yes, I actually got it beta-ed BEFORE posting. ^_^). This fic received an Honorable Mention in the Boy's Next Door smut contest. ^_^

Domination

Sixth in the Sinners and Saints arc

Omi hesitated outside the door to the club, trying to swallow his fear. He still couldn't quite believe he was doing this. He knew what the others would say if they found out he was here - that he was out of his mind. He gave a half-choked little laugh. Maybe they were right.

Self-consciously he tugged at the hem of his shirt, trying to get it to cover more flesh. He'd picked the lock on Youji's door and raided the playboy's wardrobe earlier that night, after his teammate had left on a date. The pants had all been too big, of course, but the skin-tight crop tops had fit well enough, and were better suited for this than any of Omi's own casual clothes.

Taking a deep breath, he double-checked that his fake ID was secure in the back pocket of his jeans before taking the final few steps to the door. There was nothing in particular to distinguish this warehouse door from any of the others around it, except possibly the graffiti marking it. Of course, as Omi knew from his extensive web searching, the graffiti wasn't as random as it looked. It was actually a sign, telling anyone who knew how to read it what was contained within.

He knocked on the door, doing his best to look like he belonged there. He knew he was going to have to do some fast talking to make his ID stick - regardless of the fact that he'd only altered the age by a few months, he didn't LOOK old enough to be there.

A small window, previously hidden by the colourful spray paint, slid open. A pair of small dark eyes was revealed, and they scanned him from top to bottom in a blatantly sexual look. Omi swallowed again.

"You're new, aren't you?" a husky voice came from the other side of the door. Omi shrugged.

"Everyone was new at one point or another," he replied nonchalantly. "We've all got to start somewhere, ne?"

The man laughed, a harsh wheezing sound. "I like you, kid. Let's see your ID." Omi slipped the card through the slot, and he heard typing on some kind of keyboard. After a long pause, the card came back through, and the door swung open.

"You sure as hell don't look old enough, but your ID checks out," the man, who turned out to be a slightly overweight balding man in his late forties, said. "I hope you're not aiming to be a Dom, though, kid - at least not anytime soon. You don't look tough enough for that sort of fight."

Omi shrugged again. He knew he could probably handle most anyone here in a fight, even a dirty one. After all, he was an assassin with dozens of kills to his credit. He doubted anyone in this place could say the same. But it didn't matter, because he'd come here to give up control, not take it from someone else.

The man patted his bottom as he walked by, and Omi fought hard not to flinch. He was just going to have to get used to this sort of thing. Whoever his Master ended up being, he was certainly going to want to do more than just pinch his ass. The thought made him swallow again, and he very nearly backed out then and there. But he steeled himself - if he could face cold-blooded killers and religious fanatics and psychotic psychics, surely he could deal with this.

And after all - wasn't that exactly the point? He wanted to be controlled, dominated, humiliated. He wanted someone to see all the things that he believed were inside him, and act on them. He wanted someplace where he didn't have to hide behind an ever-cheerful facade. He wanted to forget all about his teammates and his double life. He wanted to give up being sweet innocent Omi, baby of Weiss, forever.

"I don't sleep with boys, and I certainly don't sleep with children."

He forced the remembered voice out of his mind, and moved forward. With two more steps the inner door was swinging shut behind him, and backing out wasn't an option anymore. The lights were dim, with occasional bright strobes here and there. In one corner was a bar serving alcohol of all descriptions. Omi thought he saw someone buying a little bag of white powder from the bartender as well, and his eyes widened slightly. Apparently alcohol wasn't all they served.

The music was loud, but not deafening - you could hear the conversation around you, but not someone speaking ten feet away. He didn't recognize the song, though he was vaguely aware that it was in English, but it had a compulsive, driving beat to it. Over the sound of it, from another room off to the left, Omi thought he could make out the sound of screams and cries.

He was still staring about helplessly, trying to get his bearings, when a woman dressed in leather panties and bra - and very little else - sidled up to him.

"Hey, cutie," she murmured, voice low and husky. "Haven't seen you here before. Who's your Dom, honey, and how come you're not with him?"

Omi had to try twice before he could get his voice to work - the woman's teeth were filed to sharp points, and she had spiked silver piercings through her eyebrows, nose, tongue and lips. He couldn't imagine how she could talk without slicing her lips and tongue to ribbons.

"I-I'm new," he finally managed. "I don't have a Dom yet."

Her dark eyes glittered at him, and she suddenly looked distinctly predatory. "Well, goodness!" she exclaimed, tone falsely light and cheerful. "You shouldn't be wandering around this place alone, sweetheart. The sharks are out in force tonight, and they'd just love to gobble up a sweet little piece like you." From the look on her face, Omi thought he could safely count her among the number of those sharks. He'd never understood the idea of being 'undressed by someone's eyes' before this. He shivered.

"Ooh, are you cold, dear?" the woman cooed at him. "They always keep the barroom too cold for me, too. Why don't you come in where it's warmer?"

Before he could find a way to politely decline, or even really decide if he wanted to decline, she was pushing him gently on the shoulders, directing him towards the entrance to that room where he'd heard the screams coming from. Grasping his courage firmly, Omi let her guide him.

Stepping through the beaded curtain that separated the rooms was like stepping into a different world. The music was slightly muffled here, though the heavy bass beat could be felt through the floor as well as heard. There was a bewildering array of equipment in the room, most of it in use. He recognized some of it from his research on the web - a St. Andrew's cross in the corner, and a spanking bench before him - but most of it was beyond his comprehension.

"See anything you like?" his companion breathed into his ear. Omi fought the blush that instinctively leapt to his cheeks, and shook his head. "Aw, you're shy! I like that." She laughed throatily. "C'mon darling, I'll show you how it all works." And before he quite realized what was happening, she'd latched onto his wrist with a grip as strong as Aya's and was hauling him towards one of the free pieces of equipment, a post with eyelets at intervals along it.

"Lady Elona." A foreign-looking man swept up to them from one side, and Omi heard his new 'friend' curse at the interruption. "Where did you ever find this adorable new toy of yours? And why on earth haven't you got him collared, my dear?"

"Maxim," Elona replied. "How very nice to see you! I wasn't aware you were coming out to this gathering."

"I wouldn't dream of missing one of Darkling's parties," Maxim assured her. "But I do believe you're attempting to change the subject."

"He's new," offered someone passing by in the crowd. "Don't let her fool you, Max, she's got no claim on him. He just wandered in the door a few minutes ago."

Elona's curse this time was much louder, and Maxim's eyes narrowed. "Surely you weren't thinking of keeping this little morsel to yourself, were you, Elona? I'd hate to think of you having to fight for him. After that embarrassing to-do over your last slave..." He trailed off, one eyebrow raised. Omi continued to hold his tongue, sensing that speaking now would only get him in trouble.

Elona's smile was skin-deep only, and the resentment was clear in her eyes. "Well, of course not, Maxim!" she trilled shrilly, making Omi wince. "I was just on my way to take him to Darkling, of course. Host's privilege, and all that." Omi doubted she'd intended to do any such thing.

"Of course you won't mind if I accompany you, then?" Maxim asked smoothly. "I'm rather interested to see who claims this little one. Perhaps I'll put in a bid myself."

"By all means," Elona replied, and they started off again, crosswise to the way she'd been pulling him before. Omi was just beginning to wonder if he might have gotten in over his head, when they passed through another doorway into yet a third realm.

The music was entirely muffled; even the bass beat shut out the moment the door closed behind them. Omi took a second to admire the soundproofing job that would have required. Instead, the soft strains of classical music could be heard, something dark and in a minor tone. Here, the truly powerful of this community gathered, away from the unimportant rabble outside.

Several men and women lounged about on silken chaises and fat satin pillows, their costumes ranging from the mildly astonishing to the outrageously erotic. Beautiful young men and women served them, gliding back and forth silently with trays and pitchers of drink. Some few wore collars, and those served only one or two specific people, and wore outfits that matched or complimented their Masters' in some way. The rest were naked save for the minimum required for 'decency', and were apparently at the mercy of anyone who felt like calling on them.

Omi couldn't help but wince as one man's voice was raised sharply, berating the boy who was serving him. As the boy cowered before the Master's chair, the man produced a riding crop from beside him and dealt three sound blows to the boy's shoulders. The boy made no sound, suffering the punishment in silence, until the Master was clearly finished. At once, he bent to touch his forehead to the floor in a deep bow, and thanked the man profusely for correcting him. Already, welts were rising on the boy's delicate skin.

On a throne-like contraption at the far end of the room sat an imposing man, perhaps six and a half feet in height and with the broadest shoulders Omi had ever seen. He was clearly a gaijin, with long white-blond hair and piercing blue eyes. A black domino mask obscured his patrician features, and lent him an air of mystery and danger. He was dressed in velvets and silks, and he had three slaves attending only him. He watched with supercilious amusement on his face as Elona brought Omi forward, trailed by Maxim and a few other observers they'd picked up along the way.

Elona made a deep curtsey before the throne, and the man nodded regally. "Darkling-sama," she said sweetly, all traces of rebellion erased, "I bring this boy before you. He entered with no protection and claims no Master." The words had the feel of ceremony to them, and the entire thing struck Omi as more than a little pretentious. This wasn't how he'd imagined it happening - not that he was quite sure WHAT he'd expected, but he knew this farce of nobility certainly wasn't it.

The man's sharp blue eyes fixed on his face, and Omi drew back a little under the strength of it, impressed in spite of himself. Regardless of how the others around him posed and prattled, this man held real authority around him like a cloak, and he knew how to exert it to its best effect.

"Boy, come here and let me see you," he intoned, and gestured with his hands. Reluctantly, Omi stepped nearer to him. Darkling reached out to grasp his chin in one long-fingered hand, studying him intently.

"Why have you come here, boy?" he asked, not unkindly. "Were you warned of the nature of this place before entering?"

Omi nodded, uncertain of his voice. When that didn't seem to be enough, he mustered the courage to reply, "Yes, sir. I knew what I was getting into." He was beginning to doubt the truth of his own words, however, as several of the men and women on the pillows and couches leaned forward with interest.

"Did you, now?" Darkling raised a sardonic eyebrow and laughed deeply, the sound dark and rich and reverberating through his whole torso. "I doubt that very much, boy, or you'd not have come here alone. However, since you claim full knowledge, my obligation is satisfied." He released Omi's face and leaned back. "I currently have no room in my harem for an addition, more's the pity. You're a comely little thing. Regardless..." he raised his voice. "Who would claim this boy?"

There was silence for a long moment, and Omi could see each of his potential new Masters sizing one another up. Maxim had mentioned fighting for a slave earlier - had they meant it literally? Would the person to claim him be the one who could physically defeat the other contenders? Was he to have no say in the matter at all?

"We haven't hardly seen him, Darkling-sama," one of the men finally called out. "Who knows if he's worth the fight?"

Several of the others nodded, and Darkling tilted his head consideringly. "So be it," he finally proclaimed. "I declare this one free property until such time as someone steps forward to claim him. You can decide however you like who he leaves with tonight." To Omi he added, "That means you are to obey the orders of anyone who commands you, boy, regardless of their rank or status. Disobey, or displease, and you'll find yourself being tested on more than just your willingness to serve. Do you understand?" Omi nodded, wide-eyed. "Excellent. Go, then. Since Elona brought you in, she may have the pleasure of your first command."

He turned away, having clearly dismissed Omi from his mind as unimportant. The young assassin awkwardly made his way back to Elona's side, feeling the weight of dozens of hungry stares on his shoulders as he moved.

Elona was pouting, but trying to hide it, as he approached her. Omi rather thought she'd been hoping Darkling would declare him to be hers alone. "Fetch me a drink, boy," she snapped with ill humour, gesturing toward a sideboard where several cut-glass bottles resided. "Scotch on the rocks. And do it quickly - you've got a count of thirty."

She began counting backwards from thirty, and Omi quickly scuttled over to the table. This was more along the lines of what he'd been expecting, he decided - orders to serve and the threat of punishment if he disobeyed. He felt himself settling into the role, a weight both pressing on and lifting from his chest. They see that I'm worthless, and treat me accordingly, he thought to himself. I don't have to behave as though I feel I'm important, special. I don't have to pretend I'm worth something.

There had been a time when he had been full of confidence in himself, when he'd known himself to be unique and talented. Wanted. Cared for. But he'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be that sure of himself. He wasn't sure of anything any more, not since that night four months ago...

"Get out. And don't ever try anything like this again."

He repressed the sob by reflex - he'd had enough practice at it since then - and resolutely ignored the memory. He'd promised himself that he wasn't going to think about that any more.

He'd cleaned up after Yo - no, I'm not going to think about him! - after his teammate's indulgences often enough that he managed to find the scotch quickly, pouring a full measure into a glass with ice retrieved from a silver bucket with amazingly steady hands. His eyes widened as he heard Elona skip from thirteen to seven for no reason, and he hastened back to her side.

He got to her just as she reached 'two', and he could see from the look in her eyes that she'd been hoping to catch him out. He handed her the glass with polite deference, and she took it and gulped it back. She made as if to hand the empty glass back to him, but his attention had already been caught by some of the other Doms. She had to put it away herself, sulking.

"Come here, boy," ordered one of the men peremptorily. Omi obeyed the command promptly, coming to stand before the half-reclining man and the slave lounging at his feet. The man looked him over.

"You're wearing far too much," the man stated matter-of-factly. "Can't have the rest of the pets getting ideas. Take it off."

Hesitantly Omi peeled the tight shirt up over his head, holding it uncertainly in one hand. He could feel the faint blush on his cheeks and neck, and he shivered a little in a sudden cool draft, nipples coming erect. The man nodded. "Just drop the shirt, one of the other slaves will take care of it," he said. Omi meekly dropped the shirt on the floor by his feet. "Good. Now the pants."

Omi's blush deepened. The jeans he was wearing were a pair he'd nominally outgrown last summer, and they were skin-tight. Accordingly, he hadn't been able to wear anything beneath them, without the lines being obvious. He stammered a bit.

"D-demo... I don't have any..."

The man sat abruptly upright, looking offended. "Did I give you permission to speak, boy?" he demanded. Omi opened his mouth to answer, then thought better of it and shook his head instead. "Then why did you?"

Omi wasn't sure whether he was supposed to answer the obvious question, or remain silent since he hadn't been given explicit permission to speak. He chose to remain silent, hanging his head meekly.

"The boy's a quick learner," he heard someone comment off to the side.

The man before him grunted. "Off with the pants, now. Then kneel, facing away from me."

Tears of embarrassment sprang to Omi's eyes as he did as he was told. He had to remove his shoes to get the pants off, and the man gestured that he should leave those off as well. Shivering now, whether from cold or humiliation he wasn't sure, he dropped the jeans and knelt facing the center of the room.

"On your hands," the man said, and he leaned forward, a frisson of fear running down his spine.

The sharp 'crack' of the leather paddle against his backside wasn't completely unexpected, but it startled him anyway. The sudden sting was quite painful, and he yelped, jerking way from the source of the pain. Instantly a hand fisted in his hair, yanking his head back and pulling him back into position. Glancing up, he saw that several of the other Masters had gathered around them, and one of them was now holding him by the roots of his hair.

"Don't move," he was commanded, "or you'll get twice as many." Biting his lip, Omi forced himself to hold still. It wasn't as bad as when Hirofumi had beaten him, and it certainly didn't hurt as much as when Nagi had slammed him into the walls of the Esstet citadel, or when said citadel had come crashing down on their heads just a few weeks before. But it was painful nonetheless, and it was an effort not to pull away from the source of the pain.

Ten solid smacks later, the man behind him pulled away, running one hand appreciatively over the smooth skin of Omi's ass. He endured that as well, biting his lip to keep silent. After the first surprised cry, he hadn't made a sound. He could hear murmurs of approval in the crowd around him.

"He'll be interesting to break," one woman commented, lust evident in her voice. "Did you see that control? He's no stranger to pain. I wonder what it would take to make him scream."

"I want to hear him beg," another added eagerly. "He had such a pretty voice - I want to hear him pleading despite himself." More murmurs of agreement, and the hand in his hair twisted painfully, pulling his head up again.

"Face your punishment like a man, boy," the man holding him said, and Omi saw a thin whip being passed to someone behind him. He wanted to protest that he hadn't done anything wrong to deserve another beating, but he knew it was futile.

Panic crowded in with the first painful bite of the leather into his soft flesh, as he realized the whip was tipped with tiny pieces of metal. It stung fiercely, and he could feel blood trickling down his thighs after only a few lashes. He vaguely heard someone issue another command through the sound of blood rushing in his ears, and though he tried, he couldn't make himself concentrate enough to understand it. Laughter, then, and the whip moved up over his back, licking at the skin alongside his spine.

He choked as a rubber ball gag was forced into his mouth, muffling any sound he might attempt to make. A few in the crowd protested at that, and were assured that it would be removed before he started screaming. The protestors subsided, satisfied, and Omi was horrified to feel tears cascading over his cheeks.

This wasn't what he'd wanted. He'd wanted to forget himself, to let someone else control his decisions and his life for a while. But these people were playing for keeps, and it was evident they cared little for what he might want. Blood was flowing freely over his skin now, and pain was a constant fire along his back and rear. Fear joined the panic as he felt something pressing against his bottom, seeking entry into his body, into his most private place.

"I want you to be my first. Please?"

"I don't sleep with children..."

He whined, deep in his throat, the sound high-pitched and frightened. It was all he could produce past the gag, and it was lost in the laughter and exclamations around him. He surged away from the invader, trying to protect himself. Someone slapped him harshly, long fingernails catching in his cheek and digging shallow furrows. That too-large, too-solid presence pushed forward again, pressing painfully against the tight ring of muscle guarding his entrance. His chest tightened with fear as he realized they meant him to take whatever that was with no preparation at all. He was about to be raped, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"Yamete."

The nasal voice was almost too soft to be heard, but some of those around Omi hesitated. The whip paused in its steady biting, and Omi nearly choked on a sob of relief at the cessation of pain. The thing pushing against him was unrelenting however, and he squirmed helplessly to try to evade it.

"Yamete teba!" The command was louder this time, strident and insistent. Omi lurched forward onto his elbows as the hands holding his shoulders and hair abandoned him suddenly. That brought his backside out of range, and he collapsed entirely, crouching on the hard floor, pathetically grateful to whoever had rescued him.

"Darkling-sama said he was free property..." someone said sullenly.

"Until he was claimed," the speaker agreed. "I'm claiming him. Anyone care to challenge me?" Silence reigned, as a few people on the edge of the crowd slipped away, pretending sudden disinterest.

Only now was the sound of the voice itself beginning to register with the shivering assassin, and he was startled to realize that it was familiar. Glancing up, he found himself staring into cat-green eyes framed by flaming orange hair.

"Schuldig..." he tried to say in amazement, but the gag blocked the word from escaping. Everyone around him drew back a few paces, allowing Schuldig to saunter forward within reach of him.

Suddenly Omi was afraid that he'd gone from the frying pan into the fire. Schuldig! The man had taken pleasure in tormenting him since they'd first crossed paths. His actions were responsible for the death of Omi's sister. He had kidnapped Aya-chan, taking her away to be used in the Esstet summoning ceremony. He'd co-opted Sakura-chan, taking over her mind and turning her against Weiss, forcing her to shoot her beloved Aya. And now he had almost complete control of Omi's life in his hands.

Schuldig crouched down next to him, lambent green eyes flicking over his body, assessing the damage. Omi found to his horror that he couldn't stop shaking, couldn't even make himself move enough to remove the gag. He stared into the face of his enemy, and waited for the axe to fall.

*If you've got any idea what's good for you, Weiss - which I'm doubting, considering the fact that you came in here alone - you'll do exactly as I tell you to.*

"He's mine," Schuldig proclaimed aloud, and produced a slender leather strap from a pocket. Leaning forward a bit, he fastened the delicate collar around Omi's throat, pulling it just tight enough to be snug, without choking. Then he reached up and undid the buckle for the gag, catching it neatly in his free hand as it fell away. He tossed it to one of the observers, and laid his hand on Omi's shoulder.

"On your feet, Katzchen," he ordered, his voice oddly gentle. Omi found the strength to move from somewhere, and scrambled to his feet, panting slightly. He was still shaking, teeth chattering loudly in the silence of the room. No one made any move to contest the German's claim on his new toy.

Now that he was standing he could see Nagi behind and to one side of Schuldig. The telekinetic was dressed in gossamer silk, with massive black wings made of real feathers stretching out behind and above him. The tiny leather harness he wore hardly seemed enough to hold the wings aloft and steady, and Omi dizzily wondered how they'd managed the effect.

Baka. He's using his powers to keep them upright, obviously, he berated himself. He felt detached from the situation, as though he was viewing the events from a distance, and he recognized the signs of shock setting in.

"Liebe," Schuldig muttered over his shoulder, and Nagi glided forward to take Omi's other arm. The two of them guided the stumbling boy away from the circle of onlookers, towards another door set into the wall behind the throne. Omi saw Schuldig give Darkling a curt nod as they passed by, and was surprised when Darkling saluted them briefly with a riding crop.

Beyond this door was a small space with lockers and a few comfortable sofas. They lowered Omi to sit on one of these, then Schuldig gestured and Nagi moved to the far side of the room, opening one of the lockers and bringing out two sets of street clothes. Schuldig stood before the Weiss assassin, eyes narrowed and calculating, hands on his hips, looking annoyed.

"What the hell are you doing here, anyway?" he finally barked, startling Omi into looking up from where his hands were clenched over his lap. "If that wasn't the stupidest stunt I've ever seen pulled in my entire life, I don't know what is. What were you thinking, you dumb little shit?"

"I..." Omi floundered, startled. His mind was still working at half speed, fighting to process its way through the night's events. "I didn't think..."

"You're damn right you didn't think!" Schuldig snapped at him. He leaned over and ran a hand lightly down Omi's back, making him wince away as the telepath's fingers came in contact with his wounds. "You're just god damned lucky it was Ducheval who was whipping you - anyone else would have flayed the skin right off you with that thing. These are going to need cleaning eventually, but right now it can wait."

Nagi made his way back to them with an armload of clothing, and Schuldig sorted through them briefly. "Schist. Nagi, let him wear your clothes, and you can have my trench. No way am I sending either of you out there after his stuff right now." Nagi nodded, still silent, and offered the dark bundle in his arms to Omi.

Omi took the offering gratefully, clutching at the dark pants and shirt as though they were a lifeline. Schuldig had already stripped his silk shirt off, and was yanking on a green sweater. "Hurry up," he ordered Omi. "It won't be long before they get curious and come in here. Unless, of course," he smirked at the younger assassin. "You want to go back out there with them?"

Omi shook his head frantically, and scrambled into the clothes, fighting to ignore the fact that two of his enemies were standing less than a meter away from him as he dressed. The pants would have been loose on Nagi's slight frame, which was good, since it meant they just barely fit Omi. The shirt was also tight, but he wasn't complaining. Not at all! It felt good just to be covered again.

When he looked up, Nagi had removed the wings and folded them down into a large, dark bundle. He'd donned an over-sized trench coat - presumably Schuldig's - to cover the scanty outfit he was still wearing. Schuldig was still wearing the same leather pants and was carrying his jeans, apparently unwilling to take the time to change them. The leather would pass on the street, and he'd just look like one more bored twenty-something out clubbing.

"Let's go," he snarled, catching Omi's wrist in his free hand and hauling. Omi trotted along behind him - it was walk or be dragged - still wondering why on earth the Schwartz assassins had rescued him, and trying to decide if that was necessarily a good thing.

Through another door across from the first, and they were outside, on the opposite side of the warehouse from the main entrance. Several expensive-looking cars were parked along the alleyway, and Schuldig's little red sports car fit right in. The wings and jeans were tossed quickly in the trunk, and Omi found himself plopped down in the passenger seat, Nagi climbing in behind him. Schuldig slid into the driver's seat, and then they were moving smoothly away from the club.

There was an awkward silence for several long moments as they drove. Omi huddled into his seat, still flushed and trembling, feeling the blood slowly trickling down over his back and soaking into the denim under his thighs. Fearfully, he wondered what Schuldig planned to do with him now.

"Oh, will you just relax!" the German snapped abruptly, giving Omi an annoyed sideways glance. "I'm not going to eat you, all right? So calm down, you're distracting me." Startled, Omi did his best to obey the order, fighting to clear his mind. He didn't think he was particularly successful at it, though, given the way his hands refused to unclench.

Finally Schuldig slowed the car and pulled over in front of a large park, shutting off the engine and twisting to face his captive. Omi shifted nervously in his seat, eyes wide and heart beating rapidly in his chest. Now what?

"Now you tell me what the hell you thought you were doing in there," Schuldig answered his unvoiced thought, glaring at him.

"I..." Omi was no more able to answer that question now than he had been before. How could he explain the overwhelming misery that had driven him to try to lose himself in that place? "I can't... you don't... it's..."

He gasped at the sudden pressure against his brain, the feeling of weight and fullness, of something beyond himself sharing space in his skull. Ghostly fingers sifted through his mind, bringing to light thoughts and memories Omi would just as soon have left in the dark...

...months of work, weeks of anticipation, at last coming to fruition! Aya-kun was away, and previous experience told that he wouldn't be back until late in the night - Ken-kun was gone for the weekend for a special soccer tournament he was helping coach for the neighbourhood kids - tonight, at long last, he'd have a chance to put his plan into action...

...candles placed just so, the light reflecting off the oil on his skin. Silk and satin sheets a perfect backdrop. He was spread out, naked, feeling wanton and shameless. The only thing missing now was...

...he was there, in the door, framed in the dim light of the hallway. Green eyes wide, shocked...

"You know more than any of the others. You've been with so many people, tried so many things... I can't even imagine. Teach me, please? I want... no, I need to learn!"

...heart bursting in his chest, body tingling, waiting for him to take that final step forward, the step that would make all his dreams and late-night fantasies come true...

"What do you think you're doing?"

...I want you, please, I love you so much, take me, teach me, love me...

"I don't sleep with boys. And I certainly don't sleep with children."

...I'm not a child, please, don't tell me you see me that way... I'm not a child!...

"Get out, and don't ever try anything like this again."

...pain, oh gods the pain, rejection searing through him like a burning meteor. All his plans, all his hopes and dreams... all his love, in ruins around him...

...a child, he thinks I'm a child!...

...not worth his while, why did I ever think he might want me, I'm nothing...

...nothing...

...Youji...

Omi gasped again as he was abruptly released, collapsing back against the leather of the seat. He tasted salt on his lips, and was startled to realize that he was crying, his entire body wracked with sobs so deep they hurt his ribs. He fought to get himself under control, feeling humiliated that his enemies had seen his greatest shame.

"You..." Schuldig's voice was full of disbelief. "You nearly got yourself beaten and raped, because that idiot wouldn't sleep with you?"

Omi drew his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, burying his face in his knees and weeping. He couldn't seem to stop the sobs, couldn't force the painful memories back down where he'd hidden them for four long months. Four long, endlessly lonely months... Other memories rose to join them, memories of the constant subtle degradations at the hands of his oldest teammate. The jokes about the underage girls, the teasing about surfing the net for porn... if he didn't know better, he would have thought that Youji had deliberately set out to remind him of his rejection at every turn. But surely, the other Weiss member wouldn't be so cruel? Surely he hadn't meant to destroy Omi's self-esteem so very thoroughly?

"You can't seriously mean to tell me that you decided to throw yourself to the wolves because of that?" Schuldig continued, oblivious - or uncaring - to his pain. "No one is worth that, boy! No matter what you think you feel for them..."

"Shut up!" Omi finally burst out, unable to contain his misery any longer. "Just shut up! What the hell do you know about it, anyway? You've never loved anyone in your entire life, I bet, so how do you know what is and isn't worth it? How do you know how it feels?"

*I know exactly how it feels, kitten. I'm in your head, remember?*

"It's not the same thing! You can feel it, but you can't understand it! He..." Omi hiccupped, choked on a sob, and continued in a whisper. "He destroyed me that day. And every time I thought I might be able to put myself back together... every time, it fell apart all over again. Getting my memories of the kidnapping back. Finding out who I really was. Ouka's death..." he trailed off, shaking his head. "There's nothing left. Nothing left but a shell, empty of everything except pain. So what does it matter what happens to my body? It's no less than what I obviously deserve."

Schuldig was staring at him, expression somewhere between disbelief and outrage. "You're going to go back, aren't you?" he said, making it more a statement than a question. "If someone doesn't stop you... you're planning to go back there! Or somewhere just as bad..."

Omi was a little surprised to realize that the psychic was right. Despite the shocks of the night, despite the terror - he WAS planning to go back. He couldn't have said exactly why, but he knew it was true. He had gone there to be punished for his inadequacies, and that was what he'd gotten. More than he'd bargained for, yes, but... wasn't that what he deserved, after all?

"Schu..." Nagi's soft voice intruded, the first time Omi had heard him speak that night. Schuldig glanced at him, and they stared at one another for a long moment, communicating silently. Finally the telepath shook his head.

"You're both crazy," he proclaimed wearily. "And I can't believe I'm agreeing to this. You..." He pointed at Omi sternly. "You are not going anywhere near one of those places again..." Omi opened his mouth to object that he'd damn well go anywhere he pleased, but Schuldig cut him off with a sharp gesture. "Shut up and listen. You're not going there again, without me. Understand? You're my slave now, I claimed you and I collared you, and if you show up there without me you'll be weakening my status as well. I don't feel like fighting off a bunch of jerks who think that my losing control of you means that Nagi's up for grabs."

Omi held his tongue, wide-eyed, as Schuldig continued. "You'll obey every command I give you, immediately, no questions asked. You'll also do anything Nagi tells you to, because he's senior to you."

"I won't do anything to betray Weiss to you!" Omi dredged up the courage to say defiantly. Putting himself in dangerous situations was one thing - putting the others in danger because of him was another issue all together.

Schuldig threw back his head and laughed, long and hard. "Mein Gott, haven't you Weiss boys figured it out yet?" He tilted his head, smirking in that superior way of his. "Crawford and I couldn't give a flying fuck what you do. Since Esstet was destroyed, we're on our own now, and we don't have to take orders from anyone. Sure, we were pissed at you for ruining our chance at immortality, but..." he shrugged. "Easy come, easy go, you know? Eternity probably would have gotten boring after a while, anyway. You Weiss are nothing more to us than an amusing diversion, and an occasional annoyance."

Omi gaped at him, flustered. He'd known that the Schwartz psychics held the Weiss assassins in some contempt, but he hadn't realized the full extent of their disregard.

Schuldig sighed. "We could have taken you out a long time ago, if we'd wanted to," he informed Omi. "Nagi alone could wipe the floor with all four of you, and not exert himself enough to break into a sweat. You saw what he did to the Schreient mansion. And he's the one who kept us all alive when the Esstet citadel collapsed. Including the four of you, I might add, though it pissed Brad off to no end."

Omi glanced back at the telekinetic, who nodded. "Why?" he asked, hesitantly. "Why save us then? And why rescue me now? Why are you doing this?"

Schuldig grimaced, then laughed again. "The look on Brad's face when he realized that red-headed bitch had gotten the drop on him was priceless. That alone would have been worth your lives. We don't often get to see him caught off guard. And like I said, Weiss, you're amusing. As for why we saved you tonight..." Schuldig let his lids fall to half-mast, giving him a lazy, sensual look. "Chalk it up to my appreciation of your cute little ass, kitten."

Omi flushed brightly, glancing away. Schuldig laughed at him again, and threw the car in gear. Omi reached up to finger the slim collar at his throat, discovering a small pendant attached. "Will I have to wear this all the time?" he asked nervously. He was trying to imagine how he would explain the sudden presence of a bondage collar to his teammates.

Schuldig shook his head. "Any time you're with me, absolutely. Don't ever take it off in my presence. The rest of the time, you can do what you want with it - just make sure you're carrying it with you at all times. I don't ever want to catch you without it, understand?"

Omi nodded. "Hai. Wakatta." He hesitated. "When do you want me to come with you again?"

Schuldig considered it. "Darkling's parties are only once every two months," he said. "He's the top of the local Dom hierarchy, so his parties are always the best. But... one of Celina's parties is next Thursday, and they're not bad. And it'll be best for me to be seen with you again soon. Can you manage that?"

Omi was torn. In his heart, he knew he'd essentially decided to accept Schuldig's offer, but his common sense was screaming at him. What was he thinking? Giving himself to his enemy like that, voluntarily giving the telepath that much power over him. Could he afford to make that kind of a decision?

Perhaps more relevantly, could he afford NOT to accept Schuldig's protection?

Finally, he nodded slowly. "Hai. Assuming we don't get any missions, which we probably won't. Where... I mean, how will I meet you? You certainly can't pick me up at the shop!"

"There's a park three blocks north of the Koneko," Nagi offered. "You could meet us outside it."

"That's settled, then," Schuldig agreed. They were nearing the vicinity of the Koneko no Sumu now, and he pulled over to the curb. "You'd better get out here. Wouldn't want one of your little friends seeing you riding around with me, now would you?" He smirked again. "Seven o'clock, Thursday night, at the park. And if you're late..." the smirk widened slowly. "I'll just have to teach you some discipline, won't I?"

Omi felt a small thrill run through him, of fear or anticipation he wasn't sure, as he scrambled out of the car. He paused with his hand on the open door as Nagi climbed out of the backseat and took over Omi's place. "Schuldig... this sounds weird, but..."

Schuldig cut him off with a nasal laugh. "Don't thank me, kitten," he said airily. "You've just handed me a whole new way to play with your head, after all!" Nagi slammed the door and Schuldig floored the gas, tearing away from Omi with the engine revving. Omi stood staring after them, dressed in Nagi's clothes, back stinging fiercely, wondering what he'd just gotten himself into.

Omi glanced at the clock for about the thousandth time that hour alone. He'd barely been able to take his eyes off it all day. Thursday - the day of truth. It was six o'clock. One more hour. Just one short hour before he put his life into the hands of his worst enemy, a man who had once delighted in making his life a living hell. Was he crazy?

He shifted nervously, fidgeting with the arrangement on the bench before him. It was a relatively simple piece, but he'd been working on it for more than an hour. His hands were shaking so badly that he was ruining more blossoms than he managed to place. He'd been like this all week, unable to concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes. The more he tried not to think about what he'd agreed to, the more his mind ran in tiny little circles around it. He glanced at the clock again, involuntarily.

"Na, Omi, what's with you anyway?" Ken finally asked him. The older boy was leaning against one wall, watching his teammate shred the flowers to pieces. "You've been fidgeting all afternoon. And you're torturing that poor arrangement."

Omi's eyes widened. Oops! He hadn't realized he'd been so obvious. Better think of some plausible excuse, quick!

"Ah, gomen Ken-kun! It's just... I've got a really big test tomorrow. Midterms, you know. And I haven't had much chance to study lately, so I'm a little nervous. After all, this term is the one the colleges are going to be looking at most closely."

Ken shook his head with a smile. "You'll do fine, Omittchi. I've seen you ace exams after four days with no sleep AND injuries from a mission!" Omi smiled weakly back at him. "But why do you keep watching the clock like that?"

"Er... a bunch of us are supposed to meet tonight, for a study group," he hastily improvised. "They're meeting in about ten minutes, but I told them I had to work until quarter to seven." He'd done his best to get out of late shift for that afternoon, but neither Aya nor Youji had wanted to trade him. It left him precious little time to get to the park, and he wasn't going to be able to change first - and he'd forgotten to ask Schuldig what he should wear, anyway. He'd just have to hope the telepath was bringing something with him.

Ken glanced around the store. It was empty, and had been for a while - most people were at dinner at this hour, and the schoolgirls had left to go home about half an hour before. He shrugged. "No point in you missing study time for an empty shop. Go on - I can clean up and close for the night by myself."

"Hontou ni? You're sure you really don't mind?" Ken shook his head, and Omi beamed at him gratefully. "Arigatou, Ken-kun! Next time we have late shift together, you can go early, okay?" He didn't wait to see Ken's nod, but ducked hastily out of his apron and bounded for the door to the stairs.

Since he now had time to spare, he took a moment for a quick shower, washing away the sweat and dirt of an afternoon's labour. Some people thought working in a flower shop was easy - they'd never had to carry around forty pound bags of potting soil or wrestle with half-grown trees all day. There were times when Omi almost preferred his night job!

Thankfully, despite how they'd stung, the cuts he'd received last week from the whip had all been very shallow. They'd already healed over, even the ones on his cheeks, leaving no trace. It had been a bit of a song and dance to come up with a way to explain them to his teammates in the meantime, though! He still couldn't believe they'd actually bought 'I fell in a rosebush'.

He changed into fresh jeans and a t-shirt, stuffing another pair into his backpack, in case something happened to these. He wasn't planning on having to rely on Nagi's charity this time! To be safe, he threw some textbooks in as well, substantiating his cover story if anyone checked for some reason. He drew the collar from a pocket and put it on, and he was ready to go.

The walk to the park was uneventful, and rather peaceful in its own way. The air had the bite of oncoming winter's chill to it now, but the lingering heat of the sun-warmed sidewalks was enough to keep him from being truly cold. Omi did his best not to think of what might happen that night, because he knew if he dwelt on it for very long, he'd turn tail and run.

Though he was early, Nagi and Schuldig were already waiting for him, leaning against the side of Schuldig's car. A gentle breeze played with their hair and clothes, and the last rays of the setting sun caught Schuldig's orange hair and set it aflame. They actually made a rather pretty picture, Omi mused to himself. Not that he would ever admit it aloud...

*Glad to know you appreciate us, Katzchen,* the mocking voice sounded in his head. *I'd hate to think we were torturing you with our repulsive presence.* Schuldig smirked at him as he drew even with them, and Omi blushed. So much for not admitting it. He really needed to learn to control his thoughts around the telepath.

"Why do you call me that?" he asked curiously.

"Nobody uses their real names in this crowd," Schuldig replied aloud. "Too many powerful identities to be protected. Not all of the assumed names are obvious, but some are, like Darkling's. You'll never catch him at a party without a mask on, either."

Omi blinked. "Oh? Who is he?"

Schuldig laughed. "He's an ambassador. From which country, you don't need to know. At any rate, Katzchen is the name I gave you last time. It fits you."

"What does it mean?"

"Kitten, obviously. Nagi is Liebchen, or sometimes Liebe. I may occasionally refer to you as Katze."

Omi hesitated. "And... what should I call you?"

"Gebieter," Schuldig replied promptly. Omi mouthed the foreign word a few times, rolling it over his tongue to get a feel for it, making sure he had the pronunciation right. "If anyone addresses you other than me or Liebe, let me answer. Don't speak at all unless I tell you to. But if you do end up having to talk, address other Doms as 'Sir' and 'Madam'. Don't ever talk to another sub, except Liebe, for any reason. Understand?"

He nodded, and Schuldig straightened up. "Good. Then let's get going." He moved around to the driver's side and slid in, waiting for Omi and Nagi to both get settled before he started the car.

The butterflies in Omi's stomach seemed to multiply with each mile they covered, until he was sweating and shaking in his seat. Gods, he really was crazy! Schuldig could do anything to him tonight, and he wouldn't be able to do a thing to stop him.

But... he'd rescued him last week, though Omi still didn't really understand why. Despite Schuldig's glib assertions that he'd done it because it gave him a chance to further toy with Weiss, Omi didn't quite believe him. Oh, that was part of the reason, undoubtedly - but his eyes had said there was more to it than that. He'd been truly furious that Omi had gone into that club alone, had seemed disturbed by the thought of Omi left to the Masters' not-so-tender mercies. In fact, he'd been downright protective! Omi couldn't imagine what had prompted that particular reaction in the sarcastic telepath, and he wondered if he'd ever have a chance to find out.

He nearly jumped out of his seat when he felt a soft touch on his shoulder. Glancing back, he saw that Nagi had leaned forward. "Don't think so much about it," the telekinetic advised softly. "You'll only freak yourself out." Omi gulped and tried to follow his advice.

The gathering this time was apparently being held at the host's residence, and Schuldig took them out to one of the more affluent areas of Tokyo. The house he stopped at was really more of a manor, a three-story main building with sprawling wings to either side of it, a circular driveway approaching the entrance, and acres of land spread out around it. In a city as crowded as Tokyo, all that space indicated a great deal of wealth.

Schuldig tossed his keys to a valet after retrieving a large metal case and several bags from the trunk. Omi and Nagi carried the bags, but he kept possession of the case himself as they walked up the wide marble steps to the entrance. Omi glanced at Nagi questioningly, not sure if the ban on speaking was already in effect. Nagi leaned in closer to him.

"It's his equipment. It's the only thing you'll never see a Dom letting a sub carry." Schuldig glanced back over his shoulder - it wasn't a particularly hostile glance, more curious than anything, but Nagi fell silent immediately, looking reproved. Omi thought he saw Schuldig roll his eyes.

*Nagi will take almost anything as a rebuke, even from another sub, so watch yourself with him. And if you need to ask a question, just think it, Katzchen. I'll hear it.*

Omi wasn't certain he liked the idea of Schuldig hanging around inside his head all night. Who knew what he might pick up? Omi had said that he wouldn't betray Weiss to the Schwartz psychics, but if Schuldig was rummaging around inside his mind on a regular basis...

*Baka. I'm not 'rummaging around'; I'm just listening. It's not my fault if you broadcast most of your thoughts louder than a shout.* They'd gone through the door now, and were greeted by a matronly-looking woman in an evening gown. She directed them up the curving staircase to a room on the third floor, where they could change. Schuldig gave her a perfunctory bow, and muttered thanks. They started up the stairs. *And the only thing I'll be listening for is your surface thoughts,* Schuldig continued. *I'm not going to get any information from you that I couldn't pick up from a casual sweep of the four of you, anywhere, any time. So stop feeling guilty.*

I wasn't feeling guilty! Omi protested silently, but Schuldig just laughed at him. Omi winced away from the strange sensation of someone else's laughter in his mind, feeling slightly repulsed by it.

Nagi glanced at him sideways. *You get used to it,* he commented mentally. Omi looked back at him, wide-eyed.

Are you a telepath too? he asked in astonishment. The telekinetic shook his head slightly.

*Schu has us connected through him. It's the way Schwartz always communicates when other people are around. Don't worry, I can only really pick up thoughts you've directed specifically at me, and vice versa.* They had reached the indicated door by this time, and Schuldig was standing before it, waiting. Omi wondered what he was waiting for, then kicked himself as Nagi reached forward and opened the door, letting Schuldig precede him inside. Of course.

At Nagi's nod, Omi shut the door behind him as he entered the room, then stood there hovering uncertainly. It was a small guest bedroom, plain but tasteful, decorated all in creams and tans. Schuldig dropped his case on the bed and retrieved one of the packs from where Nagi had dropped it on the floor, rummaging through it.

"I'm going to get changed quickly and bring my stuff down to the Dungeon," he said, glancing up at the two boys. "Liebchen, you help Katzchen get organized, and let him know what he should expect. Call me when you're ready, and I'll come get you." In moments he had stripped off his jeans and shirt, and was dressed in an outfit of silk, velvet and leather that showed off his admittedly impressive body to its best advantage. Omi blushed and turned away quickly.

*Don't be shy, Katzchen,* Schuldig laughed at him quietly. *You'll be seeing plenty of me soon enough.* Omi blushed harder and refused to turn around, though Schuldig was laughing out loud now, and Nagi was regarding him with an amused look. "Don't be too long," the telepath added aloud, and slipped out the door again, leaving Nagi and Omi alone.

Omi bit his lip and glanced shyly at the other boy from beneath his lashes. Now that the moment had finally arrived, he found himself uncertain and more nervous than ever. "Wh-what do we do now?" he asked, cursing himself for the waver in his voice.

Surprisingly, Nagi gave him a tentative smile of his own. "We get dressed," he replied softly. He hesitated, then reached out to touch Omi's arm. "He won't hurt you, you know. Schuldig is a very good Master. The best I've ever had."

"You..." Omi blinked at him. "You've done this before? With other people, I mean?"

Nagi paled and looked down as though the floor were suddenly fascinating, his hand dropping away again. "All my life. As long as I can remember, anyway. There..." He glanced shyly back up at Omi. "There are some really bad Masters out there," he added in a near-whisper. "People who don't care what you want or how you feel, they just want to have control over something weaker than they are, because it makes them feel powerful." The younger boy took a deep breath and shuddered, and Omi could see the shadow of painful memories flickering through his eyes.

"Then there are the good Masters, the ones that care about their subs," he continued, his voice gaining a bit of strength. "If their sub tells them that they don't like doing something, or don't want to do something any more, their Dom will never order them to do that again. And they don't really hurt you, not the kind of hurt that leaves marks. I'd never had one like that, until Schuldig took me away from Crawford."

Omi stared at him, wide-eyed. "Crawford BEAT you?" he asked, astonished. Nagi nodded as though there was nothing particularly surprising about it.

"Schuldig and I were both his subs." Omi tried to picture Schuldig willingly taking orders from anyone, and failed. Nagi must have seen the expression on his face, because he smiled shyly again. "Schu doesn't really make a good sub, no. But Crawford rescued him, just like he rescued me, so he felt like he owed him. But when I came along... he challenged Crawford for me." There was a kind of surprised awe in his voice - whether because a sub had dared to stand up to a Dom, or because Schuldig had done it for HIM, Omi wasn't sure. "I don't know who was more shocked - me, because he'd done it, or him, when Crawford ceded the challenge without a fight! Sometimes..." he hesitated again, uncertain. "Sometimes, I wonder if Crawford WANTED him to take me. He's never said a word about it to either of us since then."

"Wouldn't Schuldig know?" Omi asked, curious despite himself. And he'd thought the group dynamics in Weiss could get tense sometimes!

Nagi shook his head. "Crawford is the only person in the world Schu can't read. He can block him out at will. It frustrates Schu to no end - that's why he was so delighted to see your friend get the drop on Crawford in the citadel."

*If you two don't stop gossiping and start getting ready, I'm going to come up there and haul you both out naked,* Schuldig said mildly. Omi was surprised to feel a trace of exasperated affection threading its way through the mental contact. *People are starting to wonder why I'm down here without you, so hurry up!*

Nagi dropped his eyes to the floor again, the hint of levity that had been building in his expression disappearing. *Gomen nasai, Gebieter,* he replied meekly. Omi blinked - he was fairly certain that Schuldig had only been teasing them, but Nagi acted as though he'd been caught committing some sort of crime.

Schuldig's mental voice took on a tone of frustrated annoyance. *Oh, for the love of...* Nagi actually flinched as though from a blow, and hung his head further. Instantly, Schuldig's tone changed, to something soft and gentle. *Liebchen, that wasn't meant to be a rebuke. I'm not mad at you, not at all, so calm down. Remember what I said about mental conversations? I will never chastise you mentally. Anything I say telepathically that sounds like a reprimand is sarcasm or teasing, okay?* Omi felt another brush of that warm affection, stronger this time, and clearly directed at Nagi.

*Hai, Gebieter.* Nagi seemed to gain a bit of confidence from Schuldig's words, lifting his head slightly and looking Omi in the eyes again. The Weiss assassin wondered if he'd been meant to overhear that particular conversation. It had sounded very private.

*Oh, I meant you to hear that, never doubt it,* Schuldig replied. His 'voice' was slightly muffled, without that peculiar echo that Omi was coming to associate with multi-way contact. *I wanted you to see what I meant about Nagi reacting to criticism.*

What - what happened to him? He's not like this when we fight.

*That because when he fights you, he's got orders to do so. And believe me, he won't let anything, including his own character flaws, get in the way of carrying out an order. As to why he's like this - well, he's broken. If you think he's bad now, you should have seen him a year ago.* Schuldig gave a mental shrug. *It's what happens to anyone who grows up on the streets who's as pretty as he is. Now, hurry up and get ready, or I really will come up there and drag you out naked!* Omi felt the contact drop away, and he fought a blush.

"I... I guess we'd better start getting dressed," he said aloud. Nagi nodded, and started pulling leather and metal out of one of the bags.

"Take off your clothes," Nagi instructed, and Omi quickly obeyed, rapidly losing the battle against his blush. In moments, he stood before the other boy in nothing but his briefs. Nagi gave him a hint of a smile. "Those too," he said, and Omi gulped, fingers sliding to the elastic waistband. He shed the briefs, and now it was his turn to keep his eyes fixed on the lush carpet.

"Here." Nagi handed him one of the leather pieces, and Omi saw that it was a scandalously small set of briefs. Was this what a 'g-string' was? He certainly couldn't imagine anything smaller! He slipped it on quickly, adjusting himself so that the wider leather patch at the front covered the essentials - barely. The strap settled itself into the crack of his ass, feeling very strange. But the smooth black leather was cool against his sensitive skin, sending little tingles up his spine. He blushed again.

"You won't be expected to do much tonight," Nagi said, rummaging through the other bag. As he spoke, another piece of leather picked itself up from the pile on the bed and floated its way over to Omi, who stifled a giggle at the demonstration. He was beginning to see practical applications of telekinesis that hadn't occurred to him before.

Nagi was winding what looked like a leather and chain harness over his torso, filled with complicated buckles and straps. He continued to speak without looking up, as Omi snagged the drifting article of clothing out of the air where it hovered before him. "You're new, after all, and everyone knows Schuldig hasn't had much time to 'train' you. Which, of course, will just surprise them even more, when you always seem to know exactly what he wants, the way that I do."

"He'll give me orders telepathically," Omi hazarded a guess, looking at the leather in his hands and trying to figure out how it was supposed to go on. Nagi glanced up at him.

"Of course. It never fails to astonish people how I can 'read his mind' to anticipate his orders. Most of them think he's giving me subtle hand signals of some kind, but there's no way you've had time to learn a code that complicated." They shared a hesitant smile over the confusion that would cause. Omi found that he was coming to like the younger assassin.

"The wide parts with the zippers go around your thighs," Nagi added, gesturing to the bundle in Omi's hands. "The belt goes around your waist. They're sort of like the chaps that Western cowboys wear."

"Oh." Omi fiddled with them for a moment. The zippers apparently ran up the inside of his legs, and when he pulled them shut, the leather encased his thighs tightly. If Omi had weighed one pound more, they wouldn't have fit at all. As it was, the leather was thin and supple enough that any touch to it could be felt as though it were to his own skin. He shivered a little, and went to buckle the belt up.

He frowned as he did so. "Uh... I think I have this on wrong," he said. Nagi glanced up from his own work again, and shook his head. "But... but there's no..." he blushed again, hating himself for reacting like such a baby. "There's no front or rear..." Indeed, if not for the g-string, he'd have been hanging bare for the entire world to see, only his thighs actually covered. As it was, the draft on his backside was disconcerting.

"They're supposed to be that way," Nagi replied, as another piece lifted from the bed and made its way towards Omi. "Hang on just a second while I finish this - you're going to need help with that."

He was lacing up a tight pair of leather shorts that fit him like a second skin. The crotch laced up, but there were also laces that went up each side, so that if they were undone, the shorts would fall off completely. Omi had to admit that the outfit was very attractive on him, and his blush deepened as he felt his body respond. He squirmed a little as the sudden swelling put pressure against the tight leather of the g-string, and Nagi smiled at him again.

"You like it?" He asked shyly, twirling to show off the back. He had the graceful, sinuous movements of a cat, and the effect was pure eroticism. Omi shifted in a futile effort to relieve some of his discomfort.

When he didn't answer immediately, the other boy's face became clouded with doubt. Omi realized that Nagi was actually very uncertain of himself, and he hastened to reply. "Yes! You look..." he searched for an appropriate adjective, then gave up and just let a burst of wordless thought and emotion wash through him, hoping that Schuldig would pick it up and send it on to Nagi.

*You're getting the idea, Katzchen,* Schuldig said approvingly, as Nagi visibly brightened, blushing. *Maybe this wasn't such a cock-eyed idea after all - I think you're going to be good for Liebe.* Another brush of that warm affection - this time meant for Omi - and Schuldig withdrew once more.

Nagi approached him, holding out his hands for the unidentifiable bit of leather and metal Omi held. Omi gave it to him readily, curious to see what form it would take when it was on him. The younger boy sorted through the straps for a moment, then lifted the whole thing and pulled it over Omi's head, draping it over his shoulders. "Put your arms through here," he directed, and Omi did as he was told.

There were now two straps going over his shoulders, attached to three rings - two in front, one in the center of his back. The rings were connected laterally by more leather straps, forming a narrow band around his chest. Whether by accident or design - Omi suspected the latter - the two front rings perfectly framed his nipples, which peaked from the touch of the chill metal. There was a strap attached to the bottom of each of the front rings, both of which connected to a metal clip at the front of his shorts, the purpose of which Omi hadn't understood until now. Two more straps went from the ring on his back to more metal loops at the side of his hips.

There was a mirror over the dresser on the other side of the room, and Omi stared at himself in it as Nagi stepped back to check his work. He looked... exotic. Dangerous. Sexy. He was so amazed by the transformation a few simple pieces of leather wrought, that he couldn't even blush.

He felt a sudden burst of lust, attraction, and appreciation, and realized that Nagi was returning his earlier compliment via Schuldig. They met each other's eyes shyly, and then both chuckled softly.

*If you look half as good as the picture Liebe has in his mind, Katzchen, I can't wait to get you down here where I can show you off,* Schuldig purred happily in his mind. *Who knew I was getting such a good deal?*

"Is that it?" he asked Nagi. "Are we ready to go?"

"Not quite," Nagi replied, turning back to the bags on the bed. Omi followed him over, wondering what else was left. He blinked as several sets of silk-lined leather cuffs appeared, each with at least one metal D ring attached to the side. Nagi gestured for him to sit on the bed, then began fastening the cuffs over Omi's wrists and ankles.

"Will I have to obey anyone's orders?" Omi wanted to know. He watched with fascination as Nagi used tiny padlocks to secure the cuffs. He'd made them snug enough that Omi wouldn't be able to slip out of them, but not so tight that they hurt or cut off circulation. He tried not to think about what those cuffs were going to be used for - not because the image disturbed him, but because if he got any more turned on he wasn't going to be able to walk straight.

Nagi shook his head. "No. You only have to obey the orders of anyone who's higher than your own Dom. That's why rank and standing is so important for the Doms... otherwise they can find their slaves co-opted right out from under them."

Omi frowned. "How will I know who's higher than Schuldig?"

"Gebieter," Nagi reminded him. "Better get in the habit. You'll be in real trouble if you don't call him that in public. There isn't anyone higher than Schuldig, except Darkling-sama. And the only reason he hasn't challenged Darkling-sama is because he's never, ever made any attempt to give me orders."

*And because I have no desire to deal with the administrative shit Darkling has to put up with to run this circus freak show,* Schuldig added. *He and I have an agreement - he doesn't try to order Liebe around, and I don't challenge him for the top spot. That agreement will extend to you as well.*

"The others will try to bluff you at first, especially if Gebieter isn't right there with you," Nagi said, the locks on his own cuffs arranging themselves and clicking shut of their own accord. "Don't let them intimidate you, just call for Schu. No matter where he is, he'll hear you."

*And I'll feed them their whips handle first. Though if anyone tries anything after that last demonstration I gave when someone tried to order Liebchen to service them, I'll be surprised.* Omi caught a brief image of the outcome of that particular fight, and felt vaguely queasy. He hoped there wouldn't be any fighting tonight!

"What about safewords and such?" Omi asked. The insistence on establishing safewords and safe-actions was one thing he'd come across again and again in his web research.

Nagi didn't smile this time, but there was genuine amusement in his eyes. "What for?" he asked, shrugging. "Schuldig can tell if you're nearing your limits better than you can." *We're ready, Gebieter,* he added mentally.

"I know," Schuldig said, as the door opened and he strode in, smirking. He paused and cocked one hip, planting his hand on it, as he gave Omi a blatant once-over. The pose drew attention to the wedge of chest bared by the gaping silk shirt. "Not bad, Katzchen. You clean up well. Good work, Liebe," he said to Nagi, and the boy flushed with pleasure. "Let's go," he added, turning to leave once more. Nagi fell into step three paces back and one pace to the left, and Omi instinctively took up position opposite him.

*You two make a very pretty pair, you know,* Schuldig told them as they went down the stairs, his voice laced with smug satisfaction. *Maybe I should see about getting you matching outfits in white and black, or some such. We're going to be the center of attention tonight, that much is certain.* Omi could feel the telepath's glee and anticipation at the thought, and he realized that to Schuldig, this was just one more way of controlling and manipulating people.

*Got it in one, Katzchen. Now, stay behind me, follow Liebchen's lead, and don't look anybody in the eyes. Here we go!* They swept through a large set of double doors, and into another world.

The ballroom they were in was filled, but not crowded, with several areas that had been cordoned off. Those spaces contained more of the equipment Omi had seen at the club, much of which was currently in use. Other people clustered about them, watching, or grouped together to talk. Everywhere he looked there was someone in an outfit more fantastic and unbelievable than the last. The sheer variety of it was distracting, pulling his attention in a thousand directions at once. It was hard to remember to keep his eyes down, because he wanted to make sure he didn't miss a moment of this experience.

Several people were wandering around completely naked - except for their collars, Omi noted. He saw a woman in impossibly high heels, which left her balancing on her tiptoes like a ballerina. One man who wandered by had so many piercings Omi wondered how he got through metal detectors. And he had to wince at where some of those piercings were.

And the sounds! The crack of leather on flesh, and the occasional muffled scream or moaning cry could be heard over the conversations. He wanted to cover his ears to shut them out, but at the same time he was straining to catch a glimpse through the crowd.

There were people in gags, blindfolded people, people in full facemasks, people whose arms or legs were restrained in various and creative ways. He saw all manner of whips and riding crops and paddles. He noticed quickly that there were very few female Doms, though there were many female subs. Relative rank of the various Doms was made clear by the way they interacted with each other, and by the way their slaves behaved towards others around them. Seeing the way some of the other poor subs were tormented, Omi was beginning to grasp just how well Schuldig had been treating him.

*Let's go give our greetings to the hostess, and then we'll settle in for some fun,* Schuldig said, lust and anticipation overlying his words. Omi felt his body react to the emotions, and to the many beautiful people in extremely erotic clothing around him. He winced at the tight restriction of the g-string, and heard Schuldig laughing silently at him.

When the crowd parted and allowed him to see some of what was happening in the roped-off areas, he was surprised at how arousing he found it. He could see that not all of the Doms there were actually doing permanent injury to their subs, and from the look of intense pleasure/pain on the men and women's faces, they were certainly enjoying the heavy slaps against their bottoms.

*Those are the good Doms,* Nagi told him, seeing where his gaze was directed. *That kind of swatting does hurt, but it doesn't injure. And the endorphin rush is incredible. Believe me, it can be extremely pleasurable, if done right - though I had no idea it could be until Schuldig.*

Omi glanced ahead at Schuldig, then lowered his gaze to his Dom's feet, wondering. What would it feel like?

They'd stopped before a raised dais now, and Omi glanced up from beneath his eyelashes, expecting a throne similar to Darkling's. Instead there was a simple, comfortable chair, occupied by the lady who had greeted them at the front door. Two males in their thirties hovered attentively behind her, awaiting her orders.

"Celina, you've put on a lovely party, as always," Schuldig said, making a slight bow. The woman smiled.

"And I see the rumours of your new acquisition are true, Schuldig," the woman returned, making Omi jump a little with surprise.

They call him by name? he wondered. Nagi glanced over at him.

*Why not? Anyone who knows any German at all believes that it's an assumed name, and they're not entirely wrong. It's not as if we have an identity to conceal, not really.*

What does it mean? Omi hadn't been aware that the telepath's name meant anything at all. His knowledge of the language was pretty much limited to 'Weiss' and 'Schwartz'.

*'Schuldig' means 'guilty',* Schuldig told him. The word as he pronounced it sounded quite different from the way Japanese people said his name. *And don't ask why I chose that particular name. I had my reasons, and you damn well don't need to know them.*

Omi had been curious, but the tone of suppressed hostility told him it was a subject better left alone. He filed the information away to think about later.

The entire exchange had taken only seconds, Omi realized, as Celina continued. "He's quite beautiful. I thought the stories exaggerated, but I should have known I could rely on your good taste and exacting standards. Will you be playing with him tonight, or does he still require training?"

Schuldig smirked in a superior manner. "We were just on our way to the equipment, actually. Katzchen here has been a model student, and a very quick learner. Haven't you Katzchen?" *Come up to my side and kneel,* the mental imperative overlaid his spoken words, and Omi quickly obeyed. Schuldig dropped his hand to ruffle his hair.

Celina raised an eyebrow. "Very impressive," she murmured. "I'd heard the tales of how well Liebchen performed with you from the very beginning, of course, but I had discounted them, as well. I must learn not to underestimate you, Schuldig."

His smirk widened. *Up, and back to where you were.* Omi rose gracefully to his feet and took the three steps back that he needed to draw even with Nagi again. He heard onlookers murmur appreciatively.

Schuldig bowed again, receiving a gracious nod from the hostess, and he turned to lead Nagi and Omi away, towards one of the enclosed areas.

Now the butterflies truly hit Omi, as he fought with himself to relax and keep his expression controlled. He felt a faint, ghostly pressure against his fingers, but when he glanced down, there was nothing there. Looking across at Nagi, he realized the other had used his powers to touch him without anyone knowing. He sent a wordless, grateful thought to the other boy, and the reassuring touch came again.

Schuldig waited for Nagi to unclip the chain for him, before moving into the cleared area. Omi followed as Nagi re-clipped the chain behind them, noting that Schuldig's case was already present beside the equipment. They had this area to themselves for the moment, and Omi noticed that people were already gathering outside the chains to watch.

*Schuldig is well known,* Nagi said. *They're impressed by him, so they always crowd around to watch.*

The object before them was a 'spanking bench'. It resembled a padded sawhorse, with a narrow padded strip added halfway down the legs on each side. There were more metal rings attached to the frame in various places, which presumably could be connected to the clips on the cuffs Omi and Nagi wore.

*Liebchen, help him get the harness off, then I want you to stay back out of the way for this scene,* Schuldig told them as he knelt beside the case, sorting through its contents. Nagi moved forward to obey him, unfastening the leather from the clips and sliding it back up over Omi's head. Omi was confused.

Why put it on if you're just going to take it off now? he wondered.

*The harness and shorts are for wandering the floor, not during scenes,* Nagi replied. Omi blinked.

AND the shorts? he repeated, wide-eyed.

*All of it,* Schuldig confirmed. *You've got thirty seconds to get them off, Katzchen. When I turn around, you'd better be wearing the cuffs and collar and nothing else!* There was a hint of smug mischief in his tone. Omi blushed, but dropped his hands to the fastenings as Nagi moved to a spot out of the way on one side. The buckle stuck for a moment, and Omi panicked, but a sharp tug from Nagi's powers got it loose for him. The zippers were a moment's work, and he dropped the shorts and briefs to stand self-consciously in front of the crowd. He fought the urge to use his hands to cover himself, keeping them loose at his sides, his head down to hide the blush.

Schuldig rose and turned, smirking. *Excellent. Now, hold still.* He approached with a filigreed silver chain in his hands, what looked like tiny clips on the ends. Omi knew what those were well enough! His eyes widened further. Nipple clamps?

He squeaked uncertainly. A warning look from Schuldig made him fall silent, and he held rigidly still as the tall German fastened them to his chest.

Omi was surprised at how good they felt, screwed tightly against his nipples. It hurt, yes, but... the pressure was exquisite, just enough to really sensitize the nerves without being truly painful. He shivered slightly, and Schuldig smirked at him and stepped back.

*Now, up on the bench, facing away from me. Straddle it, one knee and one hand on each side.*

Omi clambered up, feeling a little awkward. He felt exposed and vulnerable, with so many people watching him. It made him nervous - but at the same time, it was also turning him on. I had no idea I was an exhibitionist...

*Most people are, to one extent or another,* Schuldig replied to his thought. *And for every exhibitionist, a voyeur is born.* He tilted his head slightly to indicate their avid audience, and Omi stifled a giggle.

The top of the bench was wide enough for him to rest his weight comfortably on it, and he did so, turning his head to one side and laying his cheek against the soft leather. From that position he could see Nagi standing to one side, looking calm and disinterested.

Schuldig had pulled something out of the case and was moving forward. He took one of Omi's feet in a steady hand, and Omi heard a solid 'click' as something locked his foot into place. Glancing back along his body, he could just make out a sliver clip locking the ring on the frame to the ring on his ankle cuff.

Three more clicks as the other cuffs were locked into place, then Schuldig rested his hand gently on Omi's back. *You ready for this?* He asked, surprising Omi again with his concern.

As ready as I'll ever be, I suppose, Omi returned. Schuldig nodded once, and moved away again.

On the side opposite Nagi was a small table with a gas-powered cook-top on it. Several small pots of what seemed to be scented oils and coloured waxes sat upon it, warming. Schuldig reached for one of these, testing the temperature of the liquid with the tip of his baby finger.

*Brace yourself, Katzchen. Make noise if you have to, but the longer you stay quiet, the more impressed they'll be.*

Omi hissed through his teeth as the melted wax was dripped over his back. It was hot enough to be painful for the few seconds until it cooled, but not hot enough to actually burn him. Clenching his fists around the edges of the bench frame, he held still and forced himself to stay silent.

Schuldig dripped the wax all over his back, trailing down to cover his buttocks as well. Omi twitched as the liquid dribbled down into his crack, tickling and burning. The flesh there was more sensitive, and the momentary pain was accordingly sharper. It made him hyper-aware of that part of his body, and he shivered.

Finally the pot was empty, and the wax was cooling in warm puddles on Omi's skin. The German set the pot down, then stood back and waited for it to solidify. Omi kept his breathing even and shallow, cataloguing the new sensations with the skill of someone familiar with injuries. His skin tingled beneath the wax, sensitized by the sudden temperature change. He wondered how Schuldig was planning to get it off - the hair on his body was very light and thin, but it was there, and it would hurt a LOT if he was just going to rip the wax off.

*No fear, Katzchen,* Schuldig smirked at him, bending to pick something up from the case. *I plan to take care of both problems at once.*

Omi's breath hitched slightly as he saw the blade Schuldig had drawn. It was at least eight inches long, wickedly pointed at the tip and with one edge honed to razor sharpness. The telepath tested the edge against the base of his thumb, and nodded, satisfied.

*If you don't think you can stay absolutely still, tell me, and I'll get Liebchen to hold you,* Schuldig told him, his eyes very serious. *I don't want to cut you accidentally if you jerk away from me suddenly.*

Omi debated it. His pride wanted him to insist that he could handle himself just fine, thank you - but the shivering that had already started in his limbs told him it would probably be wise to accept the help that had been offered. Please.

Nagi's power wrapped itself around him like a comforting blanket, with just enough pressure for him to know it was there. He found that although his body was immobilized, he was able to move his head and clench his hands at will. He forced his breathing to steady again, and nodded fractionally. I'm ready. I think.

Nagi gave him the tiniest smile of encouragement, and then he felt the cool, silky metal of the blade against his back. It was a damn good thing Nagi was holding him, because he jumped at the touch, or tried to. The sudden chill on the still-warm skin sent shivers all through his body as Schuldig scraped the blade slowly over his ribs, towards the spine.

Again and again the blade slid over him, each pass sensitizing his skin further. Schuldig was shaving the wax off him, sending it feathering up in little curls, then brushing it off with a gentle hand. Omi couldn't quite stifle a gasp as the blade moved downward over his buttocks, a mere hair's breadth away from slicing into his flesh.

His entire body was tingling now, and there was a certain erotic thrill in knowing that only Schuldig's considerable skill with a blade was keeping him from being cut very badly. He could hear whispers in the crowd, murmurs of appreciation and envy over Schuldig's 'new toy', and they made him flush with pleasure.

Schuldig gave him two gentle taps with the flat of the blade, one on each buttock, and Nagi's power fell away. Omi collapsed bonelessly into the support of the bench, shivering with sensation. Every breath of air over his back felt like the caress of a lover's hand, his nerves were so alive with energy.

He watched, panting slightly, as Schuldig withdrew a cloth-wrapped bundle and laid it on one of the tables. Unrolling it carefully, he revealed an assortment of crops, paddles, and the like, all made of well-maintained leather. Omi gulped and squeezed his eyes shut.

*Don't tense up like that,* Schuldig scolded him. Omi felt something light and thin trailing gently over his back and buttocks, and glanced down to see the telepath holding a thin, flexible rod. *Relax. I'm not going to take this any farther than you can handle, I promise. Just close your eyes, take a deep breath, and let yourself react.*

Omi obeyed, closing his eyes and concentrating on one tight muscle at a time, forcing himself to go lax. The tip of the rod trailing over him evoked more shivers, and sent sparks of heat straight to his groin. He swallowed a moan, pressing down against the padded surface of the bench.

To his surprise, it molded to his shape, cupping around his rapidly swelling erection and pressing back. He moaned again, out loud this time, and shifted, puzzled. A tug on the chain attached to his nipples clued him in - he glanced over to see Nagi with his eyes half-shut, concentrating. Wh-what are you doing?

*He's making sure you enjoy this, Katzchen,* Schuldig purred at him. He switched from teasing Omi's skin with the tip to tapping the length of it lightly against the boy's smooth ass. *More fun for you, and it impresses the hell out of our little audience that you're already getting off on just this.* Omi slid the crowd a surreptitious look, and saw that they were indeed murmuring and nodding to each other.

They really believe that I'm this aroused just from what you've done? he wondered.

Schuldig laughed. *Katzchen, when I'm done with you, you'll be able to come from nothing BUT this.*

He gasped a little as Schuldig landed one harder swat, then immediately returned to the light tapping. The German wasn't concentrating on any one area of Omi's ass; rather, he was making certain to touch on every inch of his skin, even foraying up over his back occasionally, before wandering back down again.

Another solid smack, and this time the tapping was a little less gentle afterwards. Omi swore he could feel every bump and imperfection in the rod on his over-sensitive skin. Again came the stinging swat, and this time it was accompanied by a sharp tug on the chain. Omi's eyes slid shut again, and he leaned into the touch on his crotch, savouring the erotic buildup.

The harder smacks were coming more often now, though they were unpredictable in their rhythm. Each one stung more than the last, and Omi realized that Schuldig was building him up slowly, rather than laying straight into him as he'd expected.

*That's how the good ones do it,* Nagi told him softly, careful not to distract Omi from what was happening to his body. *It's the buildup that makes the difference between pleasure/pain and true hurt. By the time he IS laying into you, you'll be begging for it.*

Omi flushed, and gasped as Schuldig landed an extra hard blow. His body was reacting to the pain now, adrenalin and endorphins rushing through his system to counter-act the effects. It still stung - but oh gods it felt GOOD, spiking the pleasure with each tiny new hurt.

Although Omi couldn't anticipate when the next strike was coming, Nagi never failed to tug on the chain at the exact moment that Schuldig landed the blow, and he realized they must be communicating mentally. The torture to his nipples added an extra dimension to the pleasure, and he was startled to realize that he was moaning almost constantly, and rubbing up against the bench rhythmically.

Schuldig laughed in his head, and turned away. Omi whimpered a protest at the loss of stimulation, and the German laughed harder, though the only expression on his face was the habitual smirk. *Don't worry, Katzchen, I'm not abandoning you,* he said, his voice as much a caress as anything he was doing physically. Omi shivered again. *I'm just upping the ante a little.*

When he turned back, he had a slightly larger, more rigid rod, and he resumed the constant light tapping. Omi could feel this implement more solidly against him, even the taps stinging a little. He leaned back so that his ass was tilted slightly upwards, encouraging that first harder blow. Schuldig laughed again, aloud this time, and obliged him. Omi jumped slightly, the metal clips linking his cuffs to the bench rattling, and moaned again.

His skin felt hot, and he wondered if he looked feverish. Nagi was now caressing his erection with ghostly fingers, making him squirm restlessly against the touch. Each blow added to the heat, turning the tingle into a sting and back again. And again, and again, until the rush in his blood left him so light-headed he thought he might faint.

Just before the darkness consumed his awareness, the swats ceased, the tight fingers clasped about his length falling away. Omi lay panting, nearly overwhelmed by the feelings within him.

Instead of going straight for the next instrument, Schuldig leaned over him, rubbing and caressing his tender skin with gentle fingers. Against the soreness of his ass, that was nearly as painful as the swats in its own way, but Omi leaned eagerly into the touch.

*You're doing well, so well, Katzchen,* Schuldig murmured approvingly. Omi flushed at the praise, and at the accompanying flash of lust and arousal. He was amazed to discover that Schuldig was at least as turned on by this as he was.

*Well, of course I am! Do you have any idea how utterly delicious you look, sprawled out over the bench, pert little bottom thrust up into the air, turning cherry red beneath my hand. And those little gasps and moans of yours, as you squirm from what Liebchen's doing to you...* Schuldig clearly relished the reaction his words had on Omi's body, tightening the already painful erection. *Here, let me show you...*

Omi saw himself, as he would look from above and behind, and the image was everything Schuldig had said and more. "Gebieter!" he gasped, stunned and breathless. He looked... he looked...

*Devastating. Sexy. Hot as fucking hell.* Schuldig's mental 'voice' was raspy with passion, making Omi shiver again. *I could take you here and now, and be finished in about thirty seconds,* the telepath continued, and he draped himself over his pet's back, thrusting lightly against his bottom to demonstrate. Omi moaned loudly as he felt the heat of his Master's erection pressed against him, and pleasure washed over him again.

I can do this, he thought to himself, dizzily. I'm GOOD at this! And Schuldig likes it, finds me arousing... gods, maybe I'm useful for something other than killing after all...

*Never doubt it, Katzchen,* Schuldig scolded him in reply, and Omi was surprised at the ferocity of his tone. *Don't you EVER doubt your own worth. Gott, you're almost as bad as Liebe.* Omi sensed that there was more his Master wanted to say, but Schuldig pulled away from him abruptly, the only remaining contact one hand on his ass.

*Have you had enough? Or do you want me to keep going?*

Omi didn't even have to think about it. "More!" he pleaded aloud, not caring if he was breaking his ordered silence. "Oh, please, more!"

There was a gleam in the deep green of Schuldig's gaze, as his smirk widened. *Never let it be said I don't oblige a polite request,* he teased lightly, and picked up the next implement.

It was a heavy leather paddle, as wide across as both of Omi's fists put side by side. Omi leaned back as far as his restraints would permit, bracing himself for the impact.

And impact it was, crashing down on his already-sore bottom. Distantly he was aware that he likely wasn't going to be able to sit down for weeks, but he didn't care. All that mattered was the pain, and the pleasure caused by the pain, in an un-ending cycle that left him at the mercy of his Master. Schuldig wasn't teasing anymore, and each blow was sharp and defined. He worked with precise control, sometimes striking exactly the same spot on Omi's ass several times in a row; sometimes covering every inch with successive blows, without once overlapping himself.

And Omi was far from quiescent now - he gave a choked scream with each strike, jerking against his cuffs as he rocked forward with the force. Nagi was inside him now, stroking and caressing and filling him in a way that he'd never dreamed of. Each blow was matched by ghostly fingers rubbing against something deep within his body that sent him flying into orbit, his senses spinning dizzily until he wasn't sure which way was up anymore. And through it all, he begged and pleaded for more, harder, faster, more!

Schuldig had planted his free hand in the small of Omi's back, and he had set up a sort of mental feedback loop to the beleaguered assassin. Omi could see himself as Schuldig saw him - writhing and begging and looking, as Schuldig put it, like the 'sexiest fucking thing on the planet'. He could also feel the intense pleasure that consumed the two Schwartz psychics, feel their hunger for him, for his body.

He sobbed, unable to contain the incredibly intense emotions, his or anyone else's. Tears streamed freely down his face as his voice went hoarse from crying out over and over again. All thoughts of Youji, of rejection, of self-doubt had been driven from him, along with everything else - he was a creature of pure feeling now, his body capable of nothing but pleasure and pain. The cupping hand around his erection returned, stroking in time with the paddle and with the probing within him, until his orgasm approached with unstoppable force...

But something stopped it, and he hovered on the edge, sobbing. The feelings kept building, building, long past when he should have exploded, to the point where they were almost painful in and of themselves. Something held him back, pinched him tight around the base of his cock, refused to allow him the release his body was screaming for. He writhed in exquisite agony, unable to force himself over the precipice.

"Oh, please..." he moaned, unable to get out the words he needed to express his distress. His mind was only barely more coherent. Please, please, why? Why are you doing this, what are you doing to me... oh gods, Schuldig, Nagi, PLEASE! I need... I need...

*What do you need, Katzchen?* Schuldig purred at him, and abruptly he pulled away, dropping the hand holding the paddle. Even the cessation of the pain was not enough to tip him over the edge, and he sobbed and cried and yanked fiercely against his restraints.

*Tell me what you need, Katzchen. Tell me out loud, so everyone knows. Don't be shy.*

"Oh gods... I need... I want... I don't know! I... I..." Omi babbled, tears streaming down his cheeks to drip from his chin. His breath was ragged, and he had to force each word around a sob. It was too much, too intense, and all he knew was that he was going to die if he didn't come soon...

Then he cried out, more a shriek than a scream, as the presence within him faded away to nothingness. Now he was empty, his body a hollow, aching cavern, begging to be filled, to be completed again. He wanted, needed that fullness back, needed it like he needed to breathe, like he needed his heart to beat. And still the tight constriction around his cock refused him relief.

And suddenly he knew what he had to ask for. "Fill me..." he begged, arching back towards his Master, offering his body like a sacrifice. "Fill me, take me, fuck me... Gebieter, please, I need you..."

And in reward, he felt Schuldig against him, hot and ready. The leather brushing his thighs showed that he had done no more than unlace the front of his pants to free himself, but Omi found the mixed sensations of smooth skin and smoother leather incredibly erotic. The red-headed German bent over him, hair trailing along his back, mouth lapping at his shoulder, but still refused to enter him, to give him what he needed.

*More, Katzchen,* he commanded, sounding like a starving man who'd been presented with a feast. There was a hunger in his mind, strong enough to match Omi's own. *Give me more. Tell me - no, tell THEM, who you belong to. Tell me what you would do, to get this. To feel my cock inside your body, where you need it. Tell me.*

Omi did so, the words falling off his tongue so quickly they tripped over one another. "Yours, I'm yours, Gebieter, I belong to you, mind, body and soul. I need you, I'll do anything - anything at all. Only tell me, and I'll do it! Only please, please, let me... AH!" He screamed again as Schuldig thrust into him with brutal force. He wasn't prepared, and he expected it to hurt, and it did. But Schuldig hadn't taken him completely dry; he'd slicked himself before entering, and what pain there was couldn't begin to compete with the red-hot streams of pleasure shooting through his body.

Schuldig thrust into him, over and over, Omi's position on the bench ensuring that he hit that magic spot every time, and STILL it wasn't enough. He thrashed about as much as he could, pulling and straining against the bonds that held him, crying jaggedly. Schuldig's pelvis pounded against his abused flesh, spiking the sensations with every thrust. The words he needed to continue begging had deserted him, wrung from his throat by the convulsions wracking his body.

"More..." was all he had the strength to whisper, his voice thin and pitiful. "Oh, please..."

Suddenly there was a warm presence before him, and he looked up through hazy eyes to see that Nagi had moved to stand not more than an inch away from him. From this height, Omi got a close look at the bulge straining against the leather and laces of his shorts, and he moaned at the sight.

*Unlace the shorts, Liebe,* he vaguely heard Schuldig order. Nagi obeyed with haste, fingers flying over the leather thongs so fast Omi wondered that he didn't tangle them. His erection sprang free, hot and solid and dripping and mere centimeters from Omi's mouth. His lips were fastened around it almost before Schuldig's command came, and he felt the German's amusement at his eagerness.

Nagi moaned breathily and leaned into him, hands clenching around the edge of the bench on either side of Omi's face. The Weiss assassin sucked hungrily, choking when he tried to take too much, but not willing to back off. He wanted Nagi to feel as good as he felt, to understand the pleasure/pain that was his entire existence at the moment. He forced himself to open his throat, suppressing his gag reflex by pure will.

*That's it, Katzchen... suck him off. Swallow him whole, if you can... Gott, you two have NO idea how fucking sexy you look like that... oh, fuck...* Schuldig's 'voice' deteriorated, leaking emotions washing over them like tidal waves. Each sweep of lust pushed them higher than the last, until suddenly it was too much - the connection opened fully, and all three of them could see/feel what the others did...

Taking/being taken sucking/being sucked hands tangled in hair/clutching at the bench/clenched over his hips arousal lust pleasure pain even maybe love but it didn't matter because all that mattered was the NEED...

With a stifled cry Nagi lost his concentration, and the constriction that was at the root of Omi's suffering vanished. The sudden relief was palpable to all three, and they screamed as orgasm hit them all at once. Pulsing and streaming and shooting into his mouth/into his body/against the bench, it was impossible, it was overwhelming, it was just too much...

Omi felt himself falling away into blackness, his body unable to sustain the intensity of sensation that was overloading his nerves. He was only vaguely aware of voices above and around him, of a concerned hand brushing the sweaty bangs away from his forehead. There was a touch against his mind, frantic and worried, and from somewhere he mustered enough coherency of thought to acknowledge it before sliding completely into nothingness.

The next thing he was aware of, strong arms had wrapped around him, cradling his body against a warm, solid chest. He was being carried somewhere - where, he didn't really care right now, so long as he didn't lose contact with those two minds that touched his, that belonged to someone, he couldn't remember who right now, but it was important...

The person carrying him settled down onto something - couch, he thought, but he wasn't sure - and someone else, smaller and thinner but just as warm, curled up next to them. Gentle hands stroked over his body, his hair, petting and soothing and calming him.

Slowly, too slowly, he focused on the soft murmurs in his mind. *Katzchen, Katzchen, it's all right, come back. It was too much, I'm sorry, I'm sorry...* and *Omi, please, wake up, it's okay, it's safe, it's over now, Omi...*

"Ge-gebieter?" he croaked, forcing his eyes open. He was being held in Schuldig's arms as the German rocking him back and forth gently, murmuring to him aloud in a meaningless monotone such as he might have used on a frightened animal. Nagi hovered over him on one side, looking concerned and a little frightened. "Where... wh-what... what happened?"

"You passed out," Schuldig informed him shortly. *I'm sorry,* he added mentally, his tone full of sincere apology and laced with the sharp pain of old memories. Omi's eyes widened. He'd never thought to hear those words from the cocksure German!

*We pushed you too far, it was too much for your body to handle. Gott in Himmel! I should have known, I can't believe I didn't see... I'm sorry...*

But... why? Omi asked, confused as to the reason for the effusive apologies. Both psychics blinked at him. Why are you sorry? It was... it was... He didn't have the words to describe the experience and what it had meant to him, but he didn't need to. It was all there, in his mind, and he freely opened up to them, inviting them to see how he felt. The pleasure, the ecstatic knowledge pouring through him at the moment of release that he WAS special, he DID matter...

Schuldig laughed, and if he'd been anyone else Omi would have thought he was choking down tears. "It's okay," Omi said aloud, his voice hoarse and scratchy in his ears. "It was wonderful. Beyond anything I ever imagined. I'm sorry I scared you..."

*Enough apologies for one night, I think,* Schuldig interrupted him wryly. *And enough excitement, too. Let's get you dressed again, Katzchen, and then we'll take you home.*

"But I..." Omi protested before he could stop himself, then subsided, flushing. I don't want to leave yet! He tried to bury the thought deep enough that they wouldn't catch it, but was unsuccessful.

Schuldig eyed him in surprise. "You want to go back out to the party?" he asked in disbelief. "They'll be all over you out there, after that performance..."

"Oh, no!" Omi shook his head, distressed that they had misinterpreted him. That was the last thing he wanted right now! He wanted peace and quiet, and a chance to curl up and cuddle with...

He cut the thought off before it could finish forming, afraid they would think he was being childish or weak. To his surprise, two pairs of warm arms enclosed him securely.

*What is it with you low self-esteem people that makes you all think wanting some human contact after sex is some kind of horrible character flaw?* Schuldig asked them both in exasperation. *I've only JUST got Nagi convinced that it's okay to want to cuddle, and now I have to work on you, too? Schist.* He rolled his eyes, and Omi and Nagi both chuckled weakly.

"How long can you stay?" Nagi asked hesitantly. "If you end up getting in trouble, it'll be harder for you to get away next time..."

"Are you... are you sure you don't mind?" Despite what they said, Omi still wasn't entirely certain of his welcome. The more he saw of the tenderness between Schuldig and Nagi, the more he became aware that he was the intruder on an established relationship. Surely they'd appreciate some time alone together...

Schuldig grasped his chin in strong fingers and wrenched him around to stare into his eyes. *Will you please just STOP it? You're making me dizzy, going in all these circles. We DO want you here, or we wouldn't have said so, all right? And you're not an intruder, you're an addition. Get it through your thick skull!*

Omi couldn't have looked away if he'd wanted to. The intensity in Schuldig's deep green eyes was mesmerizing, drawing him in like quicksand. Another tiny piece of his insecurity melted away before it. "A-all right."

"CAN you stay?" Nagi asked again, the sound of his voice finally allowing Omi to break away from that hypnotizing stare.

"I brought a change of clothes and my school books," Omi replied, grateful for the study excuse that had prompted him to do so. "Ken-kun knows I was planning for a late-night study session, so they won't be surprised if I don't come home. I've done it before. I can go straight to school in the morning - it just means I'll have to catch a bus home from school."

*Good,* Schuldig purred with no little satisfaction. He shifted downwards, pulling the two boys with him, and Omi realized that they'd actually been sitting against the headboard of the bed in the room they'd changed in. *We've got this room for the night if we want it - Celina will make sure no one disturbs us. All we need to do is strip and - thank you, Nagi.* The telekinetic had lifted them all slightly, and stripped them of what clothing they had left, without any of them having to move more than was necessary to free the clothing. *And we can get to sleep. Sound good?*

Omi yawned and nodded, echoed by Nagi on the other side. He drifted to sleep with Schuldig cradled against his back and Nagi spooned against him, one hand wrapped tightly around the pendant on his collar. He was amused to note that Nagi slept much the same way.

Maybe... just maybe... my life will start to mean something after all, he thought contentedly to himself, as sleep claimed him. I'm Schuldig's now, body, mind and soul. And maybe, someday, I'll be able to put my heart back together again, too...

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