NikczemnyAnon - Noble/Griffon (WIP) (3)

“This is getting so shady and sleazy, we’ve long since past the point of dodgy. Devious does not even begin to describe the insidious perversity of what is written here. Calling it depraved would be considered a polite gesture.”

 

 

NM

It was the first day of Spring at the Thorn and Thistle estate. At dawn the master of the house had awoken and prepared for his new arrival. A rather expensive specimen: A Griffon. One seldom finds the means to purchase a Griffon slave, let alone one that was (in youth) considered the runt of the littler: They usually meet a violent end for the Griffons abhor what they perceive as weakness of character in others as well as themselves. For them loyalty, devotion and dependability are perceived as the highest virtues. Those of their kin unfit in their eyes to meet such a standard of disciple are subsequently culled.

 

It was as an emissary visiting the Griffon Kingdoms in trade that he was given the unique opportunity of purchasing one of the castoffs. He is expecting the arrival at any moment now.

 

EL

Soon enough the envoy arrived with its accompanying associates. There was a whole formal spiel over discussions regarding a renegotiated price. A cage on wheels was pushed over to the noble buying this poor unfortunate castoff, the cage was covered by a tarp and the rattling chains and muffled whines could be heard coming from inside.

 

"As agreed, one little runt for your generous offer." The ambassador snapped his claws and the two other Griffons accompanying him pulled the tarp off the cage to exhibit a griffon who was chained by his wrists to the bars of his cage, he wore a shock collar and a blindfold, his beak was held shut by a muzzle suppressing his desperate cries. The griffon was quite small for his age and was squirming around like crazy in his cage

 

“...Oh he'll do just fine.” The nobleman replied after a quick appraisal at a glance.  

 

"His name is Leo, but you can call him whatever you want." the ambassador explained handing the noble the key to the cage along with a leash and the controls to the shock collar. "I do have to warn you. he's an uppity little runt."

 

NM

No sooner had he seen them off (after some drinks and hearty discussion,) the noble cheerfully turned his attention to the tarp covered cage, it had been shifted to one of the tidier cellar chambers. A dungeon would be a suitable term, notwithstanding its intended purpose to contain his new.. ‘pet.’

 

He pulled the tarpaulin from the cage to reveal his quarry. He saw a Griffon like any other, little more than a youth and a bit of a small one at that. Still large enough to do him fatal injury should it ever break free. A concern he took precautions to address. Its pelt bore a ginger, coppery coloured hue, the plumage was of a distinct greyish-blue at the tips of the white feathers streaked with blue markings. Pulling the blindfold away he beheld that it has a brilliant set of emerald green eyes. He couldn’t help but smile at his newest prize.

 

EL

The muzzled Griffon was scared out of his wits and his eyes showed that fear, the griffon instantly taking the opportunity to look astounded at his new home. He didn't like what he saw. The Griffon looked away after jerking his head away from the noble defiantly as he continued to thrash around in his bonds which produced an annoying rattling sound, his muzzled mouth making sounds that sounded like a speech but as he was muzzled he couldn't be understood fully.. Though its intent was blatant. This one will be needing a lesson on what his new place in the world was.

 

NM

Without a moment’s hesitation (and some delight) the noble pulled out the controls to the shock collar from his coat pocket and decided that the lower setting should do well to subdue his unruly plaything into submission. He pushed down experimentally taking careful notice of its effect. Barely contained delight was apparent on his snout. He spoke in an unnervingly cheerful tone. “Now now, stop that. Your might hurt yourself. And we wouldn’t want that now, would we?”

 

EL

The Griffon let out a muffled scream through his muzzle and shut his eyes tight as the current coursed through him making him tense up and shake with pain from the electrical expulsion ripping though his body, the little runt was certainly a resilient little thing since he kept tugging at his restraints until finally submitting a good three minutes after the noble pushed the button. Leo panted and tried to catch his breath through shaky breaths, a few tears dripping onto the floor of the cage as he tried to recover from that harsh, negative reinforcement.

 

NM

Seeing his plaything having complied (eventually,) albeit on the ground and now shaking a bit from the shock (the tears were not unnoticed.) He pulled away the gag, being mindful of the activity so as not to get bitten.

 

“Will you behave yourself now?” He asked in an authoritative tone.

 

He was counting on honing the Griffon’s own resilience for his own purposes: Hiring A Griffon bodyguard is inordinately expensive, more so then a standard contingent of more commonplace mercenaries that are far less effective and they were only dedicated to the coin purse. Raising one himself was a worthwhile investment. He will break this taxing throw-away and coach him into an obedient guardian of unwavering loyalty. But it will take a long time, and he will eventually be made to enjoy every moment of his treatment. So now he attends to a resilient spirit that needed to be broken.

 

EL

The Griffon was trying to keep himself from crying as crying was not tolerable in the Griffon Kingdoms and even a castoff like him still had some of that griffon pride about him, so he pulled his head away again.

 

"Lemme go you creep! I-is this how you get your sick kicks! Zapping guys who can't defend themselves!" he had quite the beak on him, no wonder he had a muzzle.. It might take a bit more time until this one was completely broken.

 

NM

“It speaks? And those words have a real bite to the. Tell me Griffon. What do you think is going on? Inform me about your personal outlook and lease on life, let’s be quick about dispelling any remaining delusions. Do be quick about it, or I'll make certain that you might not be able to speak again for some time, perhaps never again..” He said with a smile, a self-satisfied smirk. It wasn’t a very nice smile.

 

EL

The griffon simply growled under his breath and didn't answer he just looked at the floor and kept tugging at his restraints every so often.

 

NM

“Tsk tsk tsk..Refusing to converse when his master addresses him with a question? That simply wouldn't do.” He replied as he stopped and slipped deep into thought.

 

A sly notion reached his mind. A very wicked, licentious thought on how to make this Griffon obey, a method that was used long ago to interrogate Griffons during the war and make them more compliant. Where negative reinforcement failed there were more cunning methods.

 

He closed his eyes and focused his magic. (An innate talent of his own respective species.) Extending an a ethereal tendril of blue phosphorescent from his horn he reached into the cage and began to stroke the Griffon. Its touch glided across him gently: caressing, tracing and teasing with its touch. Focusing on his captives’ neck, chest, and belly.

 

This Griffon had probably never experience even an iota of gentleness and compassion. He shall now experience it, although a very perverse sort of kindness, with generous application.

 

EL

"What are you doing! Don't touch me creep!" he yelled trying to back up as much as his chains and the walls of his cage would allow, the griffon didn't know exactly how to feel about this, he wasn't hurting him but this didn't feel all to comfy either as he was basically being felt up by a pony! "Stop it!" he yelled again closing his eyes and letting out a small whine, his toes curling back a bit. What was this guy playing at!?

 

The gentle stroking, after he got used to it, made him relent a bit more but he was still avoiding eye contact with his captor, but at least he wasn't making such a fuss anymore.

 

"..What do you want from me." he asked after staying silent for a while longer.

 

It seemed that this ‘sympathetic’ gesture was working some effect on him, at least slightly.

 

NM

Without opening his eyes and maintaining his focus on the sorceries he conducted he spoke with seemingly sincere and kindly reassurances.

 

"Shh. It’s okay. I’m not going to harm you. I’m your friend." He stopped briefly as if letting that dubious idea sink in. "Your whole life you’ve been mistreated and unloved. I’m not here to hurt you, I’m here to help you.."

 

This kindly speech was rather at ends with the ill-treatment from before. That he is to posses these benign characteristics of unexpected humour and kindness is perhaps merely a ruse, preying on this defenceless creature’s well hidden hopelessness, misery and despair. Exploiting whatever catalytic traumas this Griffon has experienced in life, hardships others in his position have seldom been fortunate enough to survive by offering a comfortable outlet. An irresistible bait that in time he will learn to bite and never let go.

 

The accompanying touching and teasing continued, a velvety textured touch of amorphous ‘fabric.’ It was standardizing its initial intensity and attuning its activity. It was observing intently to assess his responses to this unbidden treatment.

 

EL

The Griffon gulped a little at the prospect of this ray of hope making his hopeless situation seem all the more bright by comparrison. "..Friend?" he asked, his tone staring to get a bit more soft and a lot less disrespectful. He let the idea of his captor being his friend sink in a bit before he scoffed "Yeah right, last time I checked friends don't keep ya locked up in a cage or zap you senseless! You're just fuckin with me!" he yelled the Griffon lad resumed with squirming in his restraints.. But really where would Leo be if he wasn't bought.. Probably in a ditch with an large shard of igneous rock driven into the back of his head.

 

NM

With his magic he could detect the Griffon’s mixed feelings: Denial, fear, desperation, resentment and bitterness. The sudden burst of belligerence almost broke his focus. He will change that, where before there was only despair he shall ignite and stoke the fires of will and determination, as dictated and directed by him naturally. Not that his unwitting thrall will know, suspect certainly, but he shall be made to do so of his own freewill. He needs only a bit of encouragement and ample application of kind reassurances. Only few of the various methods of emotional coercion he will employ. By denying the Griffon any option but turning to his devotion.

 

“You’re only in a cage because you are violent and unpredictable, you didn’t exactly have the best upbringing. I only keep you restrained to protect you from yourself, to prevent you from hurting yourself, let alone others.

 

You are angry because you were predetermined to fail in your station in life, not because of anything you ever did wrong, but because you were born as the unwanted runt of the litter. To be forever branded as defective, imperfect, substandard, a disgrace to your species. I can help you, I can help you grow stronger than the others stringer then you could have ever dreamed. I do this because I care, I saw the determination in your eyes when you fought for your very life, an indomitable will that could achieve so much more if only you weren’t cheated at birth. If only. Those two terrible words that have made your life a misery.”

 

EL

The Griffon shook his head, tears rolling down his cheeks as the noble basically hit the nail on the head, the griffon trying to push out all these mixed feelings but it was slowly becoming apparent that he was starting to relent and looked like he was going to perhaps start behaving himself soon. "....Promise? Promise you’ll make me stronger?, You’ll be my friend?" he asked sniffling a bit.

 

NM

“Bingo, just a little more and he'd be broken in. Just a little more encouragement was needed.” He thought to himself gladly. By offering comfort within his captivity rather than redemption from it he will secure the Griffon’s loyalty.

 

He was starting to grow fond of the way the Griffon would close his eyes involuntarily, letting out the occasional small whines and purrs of blissful pleasure out of instinct. The toes cutely curling in delight.

 

The noble was nothing if not tenacious in his objective, always trying to best his own efforts. Having performed the preliminary calibrations with his sorcery he intended to extend its efforts.

 

“I’m running some medical diagnostic spells; you are surprisingly fit and agile, then again you would have to be to have survived so far, a dignified endeavour if ever I saw one. You truly impress me. An effort that I quite assure you isn’t a simple endeavour. Perhaps that is the first in a long line of surprises you might have in store for me. I see a prosperous future for you. You shall be refined and cultivated into the very epitome of martial perfection as you had always sought to achieve. I would not have chosen you otherwise if I did not think you had what it took. I only pick the very best, had it been under better circumstances, were you not deprived of food and sleep at the time, I bet without hesitation that you could have slew the whole lot of your former nest mates.”

 

He continued speaking, providing praise but never undeserved. As he continued talking without interruption, additional tendrils of blue phosphorescent materialised, reaching into a cabinet and pulling out a small bottle of what appeared to be some sort of ointment, they applied and began to rub the lotion into the giffon’s soles. Dexterous tendrils glided across the entirety of the griffon’s paws, giving the toes a good squeeze and fiddling with them. They continued tending to the griffon’s tender soles, trying to keep them relaxed.

 

 

EL

The Griffon smiled a small smile, did this noble really think so highly of him? It almost brought a little blush to his cheeks and he actually felt somewhat happy for the first time in a very long while. If it wasn't for the fact that his wrists were sore from thrashing around so much earlier it'd be perfect. The griffon was taking deliberate efforts to being very well behaved, now only slightly squirming a he got used to his paws getting rubbed down, the Griffon curling his toes and moving his paws around, he had cute little paws that seemed a bit sensitive since he was shuddering a little from the tender touching they were receiving and even letting out cute laugh when his toes were squeezed and fiddled with individually.

 

NM

To deal with that muddled maelstrom of feelings and the uncontrolled emotions that birthed them, he worked his way into the very eye of the storm and saw what stood there. Despair: the abandonment of hope and denial of any possibility of improvement. He offered those things the Griffon was yearning for with all his might. Hope, purpose and validation. Things he could provide in ample amounts.

 

All honey, always honey. But where there is honey, there is also the bee, and bees sting. But the sting can wait. Now there was only sweetness. But even a bit too much sweetness can drown the unsuspecting ant that ventured to far into the honey pot. He will make the Griffon drunk with bliss and mirth. He will learn to yearn for his masters kind and eager touch. There will still be some.. hesitation, and mild uneasiness. These things may never truly go away. In that place would grow a secret shame, the red glow of a heated blush, the frequent wincing at his master’s unbidden touch. In time the Griffon would grow ashamed for doubting his so-called mater’s intentions, a thing that will never depart entirely. But how he loves to tease his Griffon plaything.

 

He loved seeing his Griffon wriggle and twitch with ticklish glee. That endearing, frantic emotional display of mirthful warmth. Forcing him to giggle and chuckle, for now anyway. When he feels that the Griffin is needing to be disciplined he will be made to gasp and roar with laughter at the treatment of terrible torturous tickling and sensual stroking. But now is not the time for punishment, now is the time for pleasure.

 

EL

The Griffon didn't fight back one bit from the foot rub he was getting, in fact he was enjoying himself.. Maybe a bit too much as he was starting to get aroused in an explicit way, naturally owing to the ointment that was being used. A mild regulatory biochemical to get him aroused without overtly drugging him, to trick him into thinking that he was just enjoying this treatment that much. The slight blush on his face turned a more vivid shade, he did his best to hide the erection that now resided between his legs. Trying to push away the intrusive thoughts that followed.

 

NM

Denial, fear, desperation, resentment and bitterness was diminishing just as intended, being replaced with hope, valour , mirth and.. calm? No not calm, the Griffon was not feeling serene, not at all. Panicked? No. Dread? Not quite. Aroused? Most certainly, and demonstrating strong defiance to the unwelcomed reaction.

 

“Ah yes. The ointment was having its effect.” He thought slyly to himself. An aphrodisiac extracted from rare flowers thriving in inhospitable regions. There are plenty of them to found with the right map. It was in the lengthy expeditions and the dangerous routes where its scarcity did reside. Not that he hasn’t managed to cultivate them himself and monopolised the market by driving out his compotators. All it took was a convincing pitch and long weekends with the glassware, mortar and pestle. A stable revenue stream was secured to be sure, but an invaluable asset in the conditioning process of his would-be thrall.

 

He made no conscious display of his awareness over the matter of the Griffon’s arousal, he simply continued his impassioned speech. Not even the ethereal tendrils acknowledged that arousal, at least not openly. Occasional wisps managed to brush past the Griffon’s testicles with the lightest of feathery soft touches. Deviously working to bring him to very peak of his arousal, to give him an uncomfortably throbbing and unattended erection. If the Griffon had any hope of experiencing sexual relief he would have to beg, plead and beseech to experience an orgasm.

 

EL

The griffon started panting softly and his member twitched a little every time those sweet feathery touches danced across his sack and soon enough it was fully erect but the more the Noble toyed with him the more annoying it got after a while. To have all that arousal building up to no pay off. The Griffon let out a loud whine every time he was denied orgasm and tried to cover himself by shifting around as much as his bonds would allow, his member even dribbling pre-cum a little.

 

His paws being rubbed and his parts being incredibly lightly fondled was starting to get to him "Could we stop, it's getting a..mgn. Just cut it out." he asked trying not to admit that he was getting aroused by being felt up so much... Seems like someone didn't know what side of the fence they were on.

 

NM

Knowing full well the urgency of the Griffon’s unattended arousal and finding the exhibit quite endearing (in an overtly perverse sort of way, lascivious is an adequate term,) the depraved noble decided to play up the poor creature’s frantic emotional display for all its worth, taking great satisfaction in keeping the Griffon provoked, stimulated and kept in a state of heightened sexual tension and subsequently robbing him of any expectation of experiencing relief. He will relent and provide the satisfaction he sorely craves.. eventually. Once the Griffon finds purpose within his miserable state: to be offered comfort within captivity rather than redemption from it.

 

You would think the Griffon would see through such a shallow ruse. But he is in not fit state to think clearly on the matter. Perception is an indecisive thing, made quite malleable by a capricious circumstance. Made much easier when the one being influenced harbours doubt and pathological self-loathing.

 

The sheer direness of the predicament he engineered was not lost on him, it was an essential part of his efforts to claim and retain his thrall in his odious embrace. Fortunately there was much fun to be had by simply feigning ignorance.

 

“Is something the matter? You’re not hurt are you? I’m not detecting debilitating illness or aggravated injury. Trust me. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.” He said in a tone that sounded as if it possessed the quality of earnest sincerity.  

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NON-CANON/BONUS ENDING

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It's been nearly a year since Leo arrived at his new home and he had taken to it incredibly well, he was... Happy. Sure the chores at times were hard work and the little butler vest he was forced to wear during the day was kinda lame... Especially since it had a little bow tie, but he was content with his master and not once did he ever think of escape.

 

One evening Leo was curled up next to his master in bed, the griffon now dressed in another outfit which was red silk PJs which complimented his soft coat and soft feathers nicely and Leo was nuzzling his master while hugging onto him. Leo had become such an affectionate boy from how his master treated him which was a rare personality trait in griffons, it’s simply amazing what Stockholm syndrome and misplaced sympathies can do to a guy.

 

The bed was of course excessive extravagance; satin cushions, solid oak frame and white silk sheets and of course lots of pillows. It was a comfy little cuddle spot and the griffon was more than comfy snuggling up with his master.

 

It had been almost a year since he had acquired Leo, formerly a cast-off from his kin, the detested runt of the litre and (within the standard of Griffon society) a disgrace to his race, who would have been killed in a manner socially-accepted by his kin. Death by martial contest. Fortunately the Noble (a visiting trade emissary at the time) had decided that acquiring such a rare specimen to be a worthwhile investment, it took little persuasion to convince them to have dear Leo sold to him, a fate that would appear at a glance to be a lifetime of servitude (and unutterable perversity. If such a thing could be believed.)

 

He was counting on honing the Griffon’s own resilience for his own purposes: Hiring A Griffon bodyguard is inordinately expensive, more so then a standard contingent of more commonplace mercenaries that are far less effective and they were only dedicated to the coin purse. Raising one himself was, by comparison, a worthwhile investment.

 

The wild, unruly, violent and smart-mouthed, (belligerently cynical,) Leo proved to be a challenged. Negative reinforcement would do little to persuade the obedience of someone who has lived their whole life mistreated and unloved, to have been denied Hope, purpose and validation. Things he could provide Leo in ample amounts, to serve his own purposes naturally.

 

A gentle demeanour of unexpected humour and kindness worked well to exploit the catalytic traumas this Griffon has experienced in life, hardships others in his position have seldom been fortunate enough to survive by offering a comfortable outlet.

 

Leo had been made to enjoy every moment of his treatment. The Griffon was made drunk often with bliss and mirth. He had learned to yearn for his masters kind and eager touch. Oh how he loves to tease his Griffon plaything. He liked making Leo glow red with the heated glow of a blush, to wince in pleasure at his master’s unbidden touch.

 

He also loved seeing his Griffon wriggle and twitch with ticklish glee. That endearing, frantic emotional display of mirthful warmth. Forcing him to giggle and chuckle. When he felt that his Griffin is needing some, Leo is made to gasp and roar with laughter at the treatment of terrible torturous tickling and sensual stroking. How he enjoyed punishing Leo, not that Leo ever disobeyed, so he often and to contrive some perceived minor transgression that warranted such treatment. Flimsy rationalisation at best, but Leo never struck at him.

 

Leo had grown considerably in that year and was quite as capable as the first day he was brought here of doing him fatal injury, should Leo have been harboured any lingering resentment. A concern he took precautions to address.

 

But now Leo is quite happy in his captivity, he offered Leo what he always wanted. Hope to find purpose beyond his miserable state.

 

He offered to help the Griffon grow stronger, stronger than the others of his kin, stronger then he could have ever dreamt. Where earlier he did this for pragmatic reason, the rationale had changed. He did it because he cares. He saw the determination in Leo’s eyes, how he fought for his very life, an indomitable will that could achieve so much (if allied to his own purposes, naturally.)

 

He had taken a gradual liking to Leo. A fondness of a sort. Something that could be regarded as affection. He treasured, prized and cherished his Griffon. His Griffon. His Leo.

 

He stopped and smiled at Leo. Unlike the very first smile he gave him, it was a very kind smile.

 

Leo smiled also, nuzzling his master again tenderly, he'd do anything for his master now. "You know, I’ve been here for a good whole year..I dunno if ya wanna, but should we like, celebrate or something?" He asked, his tail swishing around idly before curling around his master's tail, his wings spreading out and draping over his maser in a sort of wing-hug for lack of another term.

 

“I haven’t thought about it, but now that you mention it, this does appear to be the anniversary of when you were first brought to my door. In a ‘gift box’ no less.” – he paused briefly and laughed at his own ebullient humour. There was so much unsavoury connotation behind that choice of wording that could have been drawn from that innocuous statement, as the purported ‘gift box’ was a tarpaulin wrapped cage.

 

“Do you still remember how confrontational and agitated you were then?” He stopped momentarily, as he often did as if to punctuated his speech. It would have been polite to call the needless theatrics a mere peculiarity, an eccentricity as it were for he did it routinely, regardless of the given situation.

 

After reaching out to affectionately stroke the Griffon’s neck he continued. “But I digress, this is a momentous occasion and such a juncture needs to be celebrated. Did you have anything particular in mind? I am very open to suggestions.”

 

The griffon rubbed the back of his head as he recalled how much of a 'brat' he was acting like to the Noble who had basically paid a small fortune to save his life, but to be fair, pretty much everyone would react like that when shoved into a cage and chained up like a show animal, but nevertheless his arrangement with his master and the undertones of Stockholm syndrome, he had made him feel bad about how he acted before. "Yes master." he replied letting out a whine showing how ashamed of himself he felt for how he acted though when the neck stroking came he couldn't help but let out a little purr like noise and lean into the stroking.

 

"Anything you want master."

 

Hearing that earnest response, so many wonder full thoughts passed through his imagination. Such dreadful thoughts. Such dreadfully wonderful feelings. The smile the Noble gave now wasn’t a particularly nice one. There were too many teeth for that.

 

He always gave people what they asked for, not necessarily what they wanted or even how they expected it. But he gave it to them all the same. He is generous like that. He is nothing if not generous.

 

“Oh Leo, my dear, dear Griffon. You sweet naïve-thing. You mustn’t be so careless with your wording. You know what happens when your speak so hastily. I’ve spent many long hours making you lament that very mistake.”

 

Not that he didn’t enjoy teaching Leo the error of his carelessness. He took particular pleasure driving that point home. He anticipated such an occurrence quite eagerly. Not that Leo ever complained. Leo has a hard time complaining when he finds himself preoccupied with moaning and gasping in unbearable pleasure. Lest of all the agonizing tickling.

 

Leo's wings spread out in what the pegasi commonly referred to as a 'wing-boner' and he let out a little gulp, he enjoys what his master does to him but when he gets that look on his face it always made him a teeny tiny bit nervous on how far his master was gonna take it. Not that he'd resist or anything, but he did know how slightly sadistic his master could be when a 'lesson' needed to be taught.

 

Taking an unwholesome level of enjoyment from Leo’s response, he decided on verbally teasing his dearly adored companion for all his worth. His affectionate stroking got noticeably more meticulous.

 

“Do you remember how you used to struggle when I tried to take you to your personal discipline chamber beneath the manor? It was the first room you ever saw when you arrived. It’s almost like you didn’t want be taught. Not that you ever do that anymore, at least not often. Not that you ever got away. I wouldn’t let you, I care about you far too much. Then again I sometimes did enjoy our games of chase. I did have to get that window replaced, and the plaster. Oh! And the dining table one that one occasion. Fortunately I was looking for an excuse to replace it, so your punishment was less severe.” – he felt Leo shudder at his touch as he teased.

 

“It’s almost like you didn’t enjoy my touch. I changed your mind soon enough. All I had to do was stroke here and there and you’d get so flustered. You’d pant and beg for me to continue. You are so cute when your flustered. All those lowly little sounds you make. I used to fancy myself quite the musician. You could always use some fine tuning. I bet you would never have guessed that you could make some of the sounds I made you sing.

 

But that’s not all you did. Remember some of the things you used to say, remember what you first called me, despite trying to help you? You used to be quite the naughty griffon.”

 

Leo took his master's forehoof and held it close to his chest "But I’m a good boy now right? Your little song bird?" he asked before starting to nuzzle his master's upper limb, a visible shade of crimson on his cheeks from recalling all the squirming and thrashing he did when he master first started..experimenting on him. "But....there's always room for improvement, more lessons I guess." He added apologetically.

 

His expression turned stoic, as he regrettably pulling his forelimb away and relinquishing himself from Leo’s embrace.

 

“While that is, strictly speaking, true, I’m afraid my dear Leo that just makes your carelessness all the more inexcusable. It almost disappoints me. Almost. But I know you didn’t mean to, I know all you want is to do the very best for me.. and yourself.” – The biggest of smirks flashed across his face as he spoke of such lofty principles of integrity.

 

“Which is why I must request that you accompany me to your training room for some.. ‘remedial lessons.’” The noble was quite fond of pausing his speech and interposing his dialogue with disproportionate-to-connotation innocuous seeming euphemisms. He fancied himself a humorist as ebullient as he was vociferous. One of the few self-flattering vanities he indulged it.

 

 

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Author Notes/Warning

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>TwilightCrazy from the first story builds the machine featured in the second story.

>The villain in the third story wrote the book Twilight reads in the first story: Griffin Est, Et Regna Superb 2nd Edition.

>That book may have influenced her conduct towards Gilda in the first story.

>None of the three stories are finished.

>There might be a potential crossover story.

 

The Griffin Est, Et Regna Superb 2nd Edition contains a set of memetics built from a considerable understanding of socioanalytics that turns the readers into serial Griffon molesters. Or, you know, the readers are sexually self-repressed and then decide to molest Griffons. Hence Twilight’s behaviour towards Gilda in the second story.

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Addressing the readers personally: You there. Yes, you.

 

Before we begin our banter where I opine (re: rant) tangentially about my stories, I would like to take the time to address an issue that you may have had. Some of you have come to believe that I detest my readers. I would like to amend and dismiss the cause of such contention amongst you. I do not detest my readers. I love you readers. I enjoyed writing for you, I hoped you enjoyed reading it what I enjoyed writing for you. I hope you enjoyed reading what I wrote for you, as I try to write what you would enjoy reading, as niche as that audience may be, and as lost as that kindly sentiment is in the flood of butchered morphemes and unorthodox turn of phrase.

 

It would appear some of (well actually one) of my readers have felt insulted, that I had somehow insinuated that I was disturbed by my readers that enjoyed my story for what I supposedly felt was for the wrong reasons, because they had apparently romanticized the circumstances and subsequently they profusely apologised for this alleged transgression for having show such an interest in my work. They felt rather insulted and made to feel like some kind of twisted sadist for showing interest in my characterizations that happened to be a on the "colder" side of the behavioural scale.

 

I found myself anguished by that emotionally charged response over a terrible misunderstanding. That I was somehow, purportedly  a disillusioned writer striking out with venomous contempt for my readers.

 

I should like to personally apologise for what I had intended to be an example of self-deprecating humour and self-parody. It becomes apparent in rereading the story that I certainly knew what implication and undertones will be perceived. This intent become blatantly, painfully apparent by the villain’s own inner monologues, as if addressing the audience directly. Let us not continue making the mistake of taking satire at face value. Let us all take a break at playing earnest.

 

You will find the original cause of the aforementioned contention here. Amongst some responses I made on a whim to the replies I’ve received thus far.

 

The Offending Scrutiny [to clarify when I display a blatant disregard for my audience I am only mockery them playfully.]

 

*****

[Look closer, the failed attempt at humour here is subtle, if you blink you might miss it.]

I wrote a story about obsessive manic-morbidity and unutterably cruel perversities: A horror story.

 

Unfortunately I found my readers... enthusiastic with the tale for reasons I had not intended.

 

A crime many readers are guilty of is romanticising the narrative depicted in the text. They had the audacity to suggest that there be genuine love or attachment. (Could you imagine that they would have the gall to suggest something applicable to an audience’s enjoyment? It’s almost like they wanted likeable characters.)

 

What point is there in me validating their ill-conceived preconceptions when they will commit this misdeed themselves? One would go as far as to think that what I wrote possessed the quality unflatteringly referred to as ‘Author Appeal.’ Careless extrapolative accusations. No one is held responsible for such allegation. Although perhaps their assertion is not entirely without merit.

*****

 

Now if you failed to see how the above note was a joke. If you are failing to be perceptive, owing to inebriation or exhaustion and still believe that I somehow detest you. This shouldn’t deter you from enjoying yourself. I am really quite happy, exuberant even, when I hear someone has enjoyed what I wrote. Even if it was just three people, yes you three, I’m talking to you.

 

 

[Despite what was written in that scathing, scornful, contemptuous note. There were no contradictions between my narrative and the remarks reader’s have made about them thus far.]

 

A colleague (who shall remain unnamed as he would have prefered) was kind enough to provide discourse for this dilemma.  

 

*****

As authors, our role is dual:

 

1) Tell the story in a way that remains true to ourselves.

2) Tell the story in a way that allows a reader to draw their own conclusions.

 

When we, as the author, attempt to create a piece of work and have the audacity to tell our readers that what they see in it is INCORRECT, then we do little but gain the animosity of those to whom we present our creativity. It is true that every time someone fails to understand what we attempt to convey that we place the blame on the one who has their own opinion, but it cannot be said enough that two people may see the exact same event and interpret it entirely different ways. What I might suggest is to take their comments to heart, and ask questions as to why they felt the story conveyed what they believe it did-- if you can understand the thought processes of those to whom you present your work you may better understand how to develop your own style in presenting what you want them to read rather what they perceive in your work.

*****

 

Taking that advice to heart I decided to delve into why my readers why they felt the story conveyed what they believe it did. Not that I needed to you understand, but it would feel like I am ridding myself of a burden by explaining it here in full.

 

About the way the villain is written: Why would people try to romanticise what he is doing?

 

 

He is the designated villain for a reason. Stockholm syndrome for me that doesn't seem.. entirely healthy. Especially in the case when the villain IS a villain, an unredeemable, loathsome exploiter. Despite the seemingly superficial niceties. He does not represent unrequited kindness, he represents the exploitation of insecurity, denial and self-delusion. He is anthemia to all (arbitrarily) wholesome things. There is no ethical ambiguity to what he is doing, HE KNOWS what he is doing.

 

HOWEVER. People sometimes like villains. I know I like villains which is why I deliberately made him affable to that effect. I embellish them, I make them playful and mischievous… I also make them rather wicked, but those aforementioned traits are what might have been the source of appeal to the readers: Playful, mischievous, calculating, scheming, plotting, devious, etc.

 

This is made more apparent in the bonus chapter set far near the end of the story to show that it gets all: A more FEELS™ friendly and Affectionate® take from what would end up being in the latter chapters. Still tries playing up the creepiness factor, but by this stage the villain has become little more than a sad attempt at comedy relief.

 

Villains are better well received with good publicity.

 

On the topic of weather there will be genuine affection or attachment: He will take a gradual liking to him. A fondness of a sort. Eventually. But now I’m trying to play up the creepiness factor, if I cast the villain in a sympathetic light that would ruin the intended mood. What the villain is doing cannot be condoned. By keeping the audience conflicted over inherent ambiguous in the villains nature.

 

 

He could have asked: “Hey Leo, stay and work for me and you’ll get good pay, free food and lodging. what do you say?”

 

But NOOOO it had to go down the creepy road. To play up the melodrama. Because who doesn’t love drama? catch somewhere. You knew there must be a catch somewhere. There's always a catch.

 

 

 

I prefer to think of him as.. pragmatic, and growing a certain fondness for his new ‘acquaintance.’ Something you would regard as affectionate. Do not think you’ve committed some sort of heinous crime because of perceiving some sort of dialogue exchange as rather cute.

 

To those readers that harbour wishful thinking about genuine affection, feel free to perceive the story on a course for being demiromantic because a fondness (of sorts) and certain inclinations will be shared. There just at that stage in the story where there figuring themselves out. It’ll happen, eventually. There are hints of it in the form of a (twisted sort of) admiration, respect and copious hugging that might reach the state of a mature, reasoned affection. But I wouldn’t want to spoil any more then I have to. This doesn’t magically absolve the villain of past transgressions, many of which include what would be considered by you dear readers as atrocities.  

 

*****

A pertinent quote from Doctor Who on villains who consider themselves somehow redeemed of their past wrong doings.

 

Margaret: I spared her life.

 

The Doctor: You let one go, but that's nothing new. Every now and then, a little victim's spared. Because she smiled, because he's got freckles, because they begged. And that's how you live with yourself. That's how you slaughter millions. Because once in a while, on a whim, if the wind's in the right direction, you happen to be kind.

   

Margaret Blaine: Only a killer would know that. Is that right? From what I've seen, your funny little happy-go-lucky little life leaves devastation in its wake. Always moving on, because you dare not go back. Playing with so many people’s lives, you might as well be a god. And you're right, Doctor. You're absolutely right. Sometimes... you let one go. [almost tearful] Let me go.

 

*****

 

 

On the discourse of love, it is not one thing but a blend of different drives and emotions, encompassing desire, passion, need, companionship, friendship affection and many others. Cynically, what we call love is merely prolonged infatuation, as the divorce rates lend credence to this assertion. A gross oversimplification of the intricate biochemistry involving mammalian neurohypophysial hormones and a host of other frameworks and mechanics. But I digress.

 

I cannot understand this preoccupation that readers have with a pair of heavily involved characters requiring romanticisation. It’s almost like the very assertion invites warm fuzzy feelings or something of that ilk.  

 

Levity, always levity.

 

On the topic of the villain’s orientation as an asexual celibate. [An unusual option considering the subsequently repeated, routine and rather explicate molestation of poor Leo.

 

One interpretation is that the villain is a sadist in the purest sense completely devoid of sexuality himself but does not shy away from subjugating others to such acts.

 

To others it appears apparent that the villain is something of a (deliberate) oxymoron, a walking self-confident hypocrisy if ever there was. Deliberately written so that the sensually explicate torments he performs on Leo become more.. unnerving to the readers. That even an act as innocuous as patting, caressing and stroking is laden with darker implications then they would have otherwise thought.

 

"...frantic emotional display of mirthful warmth."

"...sensational stroking."

 

It might sound a tad tender-hearted, were it not for the deliberate sinister undertones hammered into the reader at almost every second verse.

 

Or maybe it’s just a fetish: Fetishism is a formulated irrational, pleasurable association with an object or situation. A person finds enjoyment in duplicating the situation or being in the presence of the object.

 

For instance the villain seems to have some fixation with Griffons and a preoccupation with restraining them into compromising predicament of being tickled touched and teased, targeting sensitive parts and erogenous zones.

 

[-More material will be written here-]

 

In the second story the antagonist is a machine so maybe this is something of recurring theme in which the villains gain nonsexual satisfaction for the acts they do and that it is somehow all the more perverse for it. But that story can still be considered m/m. It doesn't matter if I’m trying to be fancy by throwing bi-the way, or bi-curious or a pansexual xenophile that enjoys the company of super-intelligence cacti that communicate through the controlled release of fragrance.

 

Homo Classic is always fine by me.

 

"I think we're all polymorphously perverse to some degree."

- Arthur C. Clarke

 

 

Case-in-point, I get a perverse, voyeuristic joy out of my readers commenting that, whilst my stories are outright disturbing and thoroughly demented, they find them oddly enjoyable. Some might even voice their surprise for getting an erecting from reading my work, when they consciously under the  presumption that they shouldn't be having one. A confusion shared by other hormone-addled readers.

 

In the three stories there is a general villain archetype used:

"The Doctor — who could just as easily contain the Torturer or the Scientist within his archetype — is a cold, methodical operator. He finds everything dictated by logic, even if this so-called logic makes little sense. It’s all about stimulus and response."- CtL:AN [re: DARK-RAEPY-FIC]

 

But I like to think my stories contain a little bit of genuine affection. It’s just very subtle and ambiguous. I never want to let my readers get to comfortable, I do it because I care, it would be most discourteous of me to let you be contented with the premise or the eventualities drawn from them. Niggling doubts and uncertainties. But you knew that, didn’t you? I never suspected otherwise, I always think well of you even if my benevolence seems somewhat harsh.. I do it because I care. I really, really do. (^_^)

 

 

[-More material will be written here-]

 

 

 

Someone had expressed the ridiculous notion  that I struck them as some sort of cold, asexual like the villains I wrote. That I was in some way apparently above such base desires. Which is mostly the reason they supposedly pity asexual: Not being able to enjoy life's simplest, basest of pleasures.

 

Implying my perversity has not simply reached new heights? I like to think I’m rather insidious, subtle and actually [spoiler]a depraved bi-sexual. When the mood suits me.[/spoiler] Leading individuals down paths of excess and sensual indulgence. I’m overdoing it a bit aren’t I?

 

I'm not in the habit of arguing over the colour of red herrings.

 

Being little less than a voyeur and hoping at least one reader got an awkward boner from reading my tale about debauched, decadent depravity by the most dubious of means.

 

So let us put these scandalous rumours aside that I am somehow some sort of depraved deviant that has no interest in wholesome sexual exercises.

 

Let's play a game.

It’s a game that I like to play.

It's a very nice game.

Oh, it's a lovely game,

[it's] a fun game.

A special game.

 

My ideal Friday night involves riding around in a conspicuous, white unmarked van with heavily tinted windows and handpicking strangers, asking them if my rag smells like chloroform. When they wake up they find themselves in a warehouse complex or one of the many other well furnished properties I ostensibly keep filled with elaborate traps. It’s a very involved, costly and high-maintenance hobby. I pit them against intricate puzzles used to test my current working models of human behaviour. A series of formulised generalisation I work to falsify experimentally.

 

Dare we enter my magical realm? I’m overdoing it a bit aren’t I? No? Alright then. Well I won’t bore you with the particulars. There isn’t any injuries or fatalities involved. I am not to be confused with THOSE monsters: Sure, they are a bit shaken by the experience, some taking days or weeks to recover physiologically, while others aren’t.. shall we say, not quite themselves anymore. I simply sought to test and expands the limits of their perceptions, some simply breakdown from the experience.

 

 

[-More material will be written here-]