Gospel of the Masters
Ch. 02: Bread
Once, he was a human, a real human.
He was having the same dream again. He wasn't entirely sure how long ago it had started, or for how long it had been following him through his sparse hours of slumber, but the dream had come to him nearly every night since.... That is, when he was allowed the sleep.
It was the first day he was pulled into the world of the masters, just a few minutes before he crossed that threshold. He marveled at who he used to be; when he was still a person, when he still had a chance... when he still had a name.
`What was my name again? Peter? No.... Alan? That wasn't it either....' He knew such things didn't matter anymore, for what good was a name he couldn't hear or say? What good was a name nobody would ever call him by? Even if it didn't have any real use, was he still allowed to want one?
He had once wanted many things; to be adopted, to be loved, to have a family of his own. He wanted to be useful. He wanted to be self-sufficient. He wanted to prove to the whole world that he still had value, even if there were a few pieces missing from him. He used to want so many things. He used to believe he may find them.... In hindsight, his naiveté back then was as unmarred as his flesh. He never understood the true meaning of wanting when he was a real person. He did now.
He didn't allow himself to want for things anymore... but... was he allowed to dream? He knew what he would dream of if he got to choose them. A blanket to sleep on. A cane for my knee. A pair of pants would be nice. A pepperoni pizza with extra black olives and a strawberry shake. A nice long bath-
He faltered as the last of his list came to him, finding that it gave him the strangest feeling. There was just something off about that one, something he couldn't quite recall....
The thought fell away as the dream merely kept unfolding before him. It was reaching the end, when it always made him do the same thing. For now, he just stared at who he used to be as he absent-mindedly got dressed for work.
He was always smiling back then, he would do it for spite. To think he ever wore a brave face seemed comical now, but that was not nearly as big a joke as the thought of him smiling was. Though, compared to what he was now, he supposed he had plenty to smile about back then. At least he could still dream about smiling.
He was looking in a cracked mirror, the one inside the bathroom of that ratty apartment he could barely afford by himself. He was brushing his black hair to the side as he prepared for work, quickly throwing on the vest he had forgotten to wash yet again. He was trying to rub a splotchy stain out, only leaving a bigger, dirtier smear in its place.
He remembered how proud of himself he had been when he first signed that lease all on his own at eighteen. How ecstatic he had been after landing that first job. How close he was getting to that promotion he had worked toward for the last year. He was a real person then, with so many real dreams, hopes, and stupid, insignificant problems and desired that real people had.
`Guess I won't be getting that deposit back....' He let himself entertain the thought, knowing how frivolous such things were now. It was nice to pretend that those kinds of problems were still the only things he needed to concern himself with....
`I can still dream, right? Even if those, too, are confined to single places.... That was pretty. Reminds me of Emily Dickinson. I wonder if that's her real name?' He couldn't help but feel detached here. When you're stuck re-watching the same movie, you tend to start mocking the shitty plot.
He watched the next part a little more carefully, wondering if his mind would finally fill in the pieces this time. To his expected dismay, he just couldn't read the details as his past self clipped the nametag onto his work uniform.
`Ricky? Samuel? Benjamin?' He guessed a few more times, knowing they were all duds.
He watched himself turn from the mirror, taking a single step towards the door before stopping in his tracks.
`Please.... Just keep walking.' He couldn't help himself. The dream seemed easy enough to turn a cold shoulder to, but it practically forced him to interact here. He just never could quite stop himself from begging for it to be different. He would always still plead for it to change, knowing it would not.
His old self turned around quickly, the light of the glowing rectangle behind him near blinding as the doorway opened wider, seemingly from thin air.
He remembered how it felt, how warm and inviting, how that divine light radiated such a desperate plea for help that even he could comprehend. Someone needed him, and they were calling for his aid. He would be blessed with great might for answering such a call. He would be a hero to countless. It promised he would get to see a world far different than his own.... How right that promise was. He smiled as he walked through that door, and then his entire world became reduced to a single room with not a shred of light to be found.... He didn't smile again after that day.... Not even from spite.
Then he woke up, a single, unstoppable tear rolling its way down his cheek. Despite this, he was soon marveling at something else.... He had woken somewhere different than his dungeon for the first time in years. He felt clean, and his scalp wasn't so relentlessly itchy. On top of that, it would seem he could actually smell again now that the filth had been cleansed. He first wondered if he had finally managed to die, and then he spotted the new master still sleeping heavily on the bed, dashing his foolish hope. As the wolf's larger chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, he turned his gaze low, not wanting to be caught staring at a master. His memory finally caught up to him as he lingered on yesterday's unexpected turn of events.
The part of the puzzle that hadn't made any sense to him was the lack of enforcement. The masters didn't take kindly to anything that could even be perceived as disobedience.... He had failed to walk behind his leash... so why hadn't he been hit? Why had he been carried instead? Why did he get a bath? More than that, what about the rest of what transpired afterwards?
He thought back to when he had been dried off, remembering how the new master had led him to the bench, even letting him keep the towel over his shoulders while the wolf bathed after. He thought about how the master had kept himself covered; how strange it was that the beast hadn't demanded a single thing of him aside from moving as directed. Masters only interacted with him for one thing; to cause him pain.... To rut in him.
`So then why? Why bring me to sleep in the same room? Why direct me to the spare bed instead of his own? Why did he just fall asleep afterwards? Why... why hasn't anything bad happened yet?' He just couldn't trust his own logic anymore.
Luckily for him, he knew the gospel, and the gospel told him all he needed to do when dealing with the masters. He let his mind wander to his absolutes, finding comfort that they had never lied to him since the day each lesson had been so forcibly embraced. It was easier that way, or at least, that is what the human believed.
He noticed the master stirring in his bed, realizing he would wake soon. He quickly moved to kneel, as was expected of him. It was unwise to oversleep. It was unwise to let the masters catch you out of position.
`Don't be tempted by the bread. Wake to kneel or wake to dread.' He repeated the sacred phrase over and over, reminding himself exactly why he wouldn't chance sleeping in that bed. It had been a test, but he knew better. The master was seeing if he knew the rules, and he knew he did not sleep anywhere but the floor. That is exactly where he had slid to before he ever let himself be tempted by such hopeless desire and such blatant deception, to be tempted by such an inviting bed. He wouldn't be caught asleep, and he would not be caught where he should not be....
He just kept on repeating it, reinforcing his wall. `Don't be tempted by the bread... wake to kneel or wake to dread... don't be tempted by the bread... wake to kneel or wake--'
He felt the light creak of wood against stone, and saw two large, black paws swing down from the master's bed, planting themselves firmly on the floor. The human kept his eyes lowered, assuming the master would see that he would perform as expected without coaxing, that he knew what to do. He didn't have to be taught anymore lessons....
==
Hatchet had a hard time sleeping peacefully that night, waking to feel even more tired in more ways than one. It wasn't like it was hard for him to understand why, either. That summoned really screwed with his head, something he didn't run into too often these days.
`Speaking of....' Hatchet sat up with a grunt, reluctantly pulling himself from the lumpy mattress. He lightly scratched at the back of his head while grumbling about the inn overcharging before he turned his attention elsewhere. What he saw only ruined his mood that much more.
The human was kneeling, that perpetually frustrating and empty gaze of his still glued to the dirt.
Hatchet rolled his eyes at the development, mumbling to himself as he wiped the sleep from his eyes, "It's too early for this shit.... How do I tell him to just stop?"
The wolf looked on the nightstand, snatching a hold of the papers from the slaver. He glanced over the hand signals on the first page, finding nothing he could really use among the crude illustrations and the few words beside them. He shuffled the papers around, moving to the second page. He groaned for entirely different reason....
It was all writing, line after line.... Hatchet started in, already dreading his daunting task, hoping he could find something he could use before it bested him.
If you're reading this letter, its because you've rented my slave for a previously argeed upon time. On the page before this on e, you saw some hand singal exannples. This is a more ind-epht guid e on vvhat to ecpext from lts performamce as you use the sumnomed slave for hwatveerer fatanstsies you mav haye! VVe prlde rouselsev on how dedicetadly we niart cur salves, t o be undreakable by even het tsom degringad and degranged cats you cant hink of! By flowling this guide, you can vvork y our reentral propspect to tis llufest use!
Hatchet tore his eyes away from the damned letter, rubbing at his sockets as he felt the familiar frustration and headache both welling up behind them. He hated reading, and how anyone had EVER made sense of ANYTHING written was beyond him.... The more he tried to make them work, the more the words evaded him, always shifting on the parchment just enough to make a flustered fool of him.
With a growl of frustration, the sell-sword stood, cursing to himself as he tossed the parchment back on the bed, snatching up his pants instead as he prepared to run a few errands, "...It's too early for this shit."
==
Finally, it had happened. The new master had left, but before his departure, the human figured the beast out at last. He knew what his new master's preferences were now. He knew what the dark wolf liked. He knew what kind of pain he chose to inflict, and the implications it had for the human made him tremble. The new master thrived on temptation, something that went without question as the human stared warily towards the bait placed beside him.
Two larger slices of bread, two small wedges of cheese, and a graciously sized mug filled with water, all placed neatly on a clean cloth. There was never a more evident trap. He would not eat the bread. That was what they wanted him to do, it was why they left it out for him, it was why he had succumbed to the bread four times already.
The bread wasn't worth it.... No matter how hungry he got, no matter how delicious it always was, no matter how badly he had craved it.... It wasn't worth it when the masters retrieved it. They would cut him, just keep slicing until they reached his stomach, and then they would take their bread back, ripping something out of him every time.... Leaving him just a little less of a human every time.... So he found that lesson a place among the master's gospel, and he made sure he remembered what temptation brought him.
He did not eat but from the dirt. He only ate what was rotten, what poisoned him equally as much as it sustained him. He did not drink but from the masters directly. He'd not be tempted by the bread, but such warm bread displayed in so many forms seemed to be this new master's greatest delight. He looked down again, returning to his small place on the floor, praying for resolve as he repeated his gospel until the master finally returned a short while later, carrying with him only more hollow offerings of such maddening bread.
Hatchet knew he shouldn't have been surprised. The summoned couldn't do anything by itself, so why he had ever hoped that it could maybe feed itself was beyond him. He grumbled as he walked back into his room at the inn, dropping a bag on the small table as he picked up the leash and walked over to the human. He clipped it into place, and the human stood for him immediately. Hatchet left him there as he walked back to the bag he had brought in, returning after with the newest `bread' for the human.
The human panicked in his rush to clench his eyes, almost meeting the new master's gaze when the wolf abruptly stopped in front of him and squatted down. He felt the touch of the master after, the larger hand wrapping firmly around his wrist before it pulled his hand forward, lifting it and guiding it to something soft, yet sturdy.
As his hand lingered blindly against the master's shoulder supporting his weight, he felt another touch at his ankle, coaxing him to raise his left leg. He felt a cloth binding secured around it, and felt it returned to the stone floor after. His right ankle received the same treatment, making him all the more wary of why the master was binding his feet in the first place.... Then he felt the fabric pulled up to his waist.
Hatchet was fastening the pants around the summoned when he noticed the human had stopped breathing entirely. The wolf briefly lifted his gaze, finding only eyes squeezed shut. Hatchet finished his work, and quickly stood again, taking a step back from the summoned, hoping the human would start breathing again with some space. Hatchet had finally started realizing how afraid of him this summoned was.
With a softer huff this time, the wolf reached a hand forward slowly, moving to take hold of the leash once again. He tugged lightly, coaxing the human to follow.
He did as commanded, trying his best to obey his master, but still so terrified. This just didn't make any sense to the human. `The master's had no need to cover me before, so why am I wearing pants now? I don't want this false kindness... do I? No... it will just make me miss it that much more when it's taken away again.'
All the ways they could torture a soul seemed never ending, enforced only more as he was commanded to sit at the table, ordered to do so with a hand signal. When he had tried kneeling on the floor, where he belonged, the master snatched hold of his arm, practically shoving him into the wooden chair instead. He dared not move again, simply clenching his hands on his lap in fear.... For a second, he even appreciated having the softer cloth of the pants to cling to. Then the master's intentions became even more evident as the wolf returned with the bread, cheese, and water.
`Please.... Please.... Not this.... Not again....'
A furry hand took hold of the human's own, turning it, opening it, and pressing a piece of bread into his palm after. The human wouldn't move, he simply stared in horror at the bread, unable to tear his eyes off of it. His hand began trembling, betraying his usual control in such endlessly brutal situations. Then his resolve hardened at last.
`No.'
Hatchet was rapidly losing patience, and his irritation flared to new heights as the summoned finally made a move without coaxing.... The human turned his hand, and dropped the bread to the floor.
Hatchet snatched hold of the human's wrist once more, moving yet another piece of bread to the palm, forcibly wrapping the fingers of the summoned around the food this time.
The human went to repeat his stance, showing the new master that he understood... that he knew better.... He wouldn't eat it, but it only seemed to anger the master more. His wrist was roughly grabbed, stopping his hand before it could dump the bread a second time. He felt a strong guidance raising his hand and the bread up to his own mouth, pressing firmly against his lips.
The smell was maddening, and the human finally realized why he had received that bath, why that sense needed to be restored to him. It was so he could be tortured this way. He was foolish to even consider anything less. With hesitant fingers dutifully doing what must be done, he released the bread a second time, letting it fall from his lips. He swallowed, not realizing how much he was drooling behind that clenched jaw of his.
Surely, the new master will accept my resolve now... surely, he will be please- The thought was interrupted by two firm hands on each shoulder, snatching him up from his seat before pressing his back into the wall, pinning him in an upright position as the master loomed above him. Though the human knew not to peer in the eyes of a master, he could feel the anger behind that beast's glare bearing down on him. He could feel his new master's rage by the way he was holding him. He felt one hand release him as the master turned to grab more of the bread, bringing it right back up to his mouth.
He clenched his eyes and lips shut in response, feeling desperate as the master tried to force him to succumb to his own wants, as he tried to force him to fail....
`DON'T BE TEMPTED BY THE BREAD! DON'T BE TEMPTED BY THE BR--'
The coldest realization struck as the master released his shoulders entirely. The human parted his eyes slightly at the development, finding himself more fearful than ever.
The master was holding a closed fist before him, the first two fingers extended. He had been commanded to open his mouth.
He didn't often cry from the master's torture anymore, but the tears were already forming as he realized what this meant. The master wanted him to eat it, which means he wanted to cut him. It wasn't a test, it wasn't a punishment... cutting his stomach was obviously just the goal. He never had any chance of avoiding this....
As he felt his entire body start to numb from the realization. He let himself start to retreat again, preparing to go to that secret place inside where he rode out the bad things. Just as he was detaching from his reality, he parted his mouth, obeying the command, letting his tears fall in acceptance. The bread was forced into his mouth, the hand clamping over it after, making him swallow.... The human lost the last remaining restraint he had amid his ravenous and frenzied hunger finally having a taste, losing himself, letting his will to abstain shatter entirely. He was accepting what would come after, but he would be making the absolute most of this relapse.
Hatchet felt his rising temper suddenly fall, feeling nothing short of chills when the summoned finally broke. Hatchet had seen starving dogs finally fed before, the way they scarfed down anything they could find by the choking mouthful. The way they ate in such a hurry, as if it would be taken from them, as if they took the time to chew then the food would vanish. Starving dogs ate everything, bones and all.... In the human's ravenous and carnal feasting, he chomped down sharply on the wolf's digit, drawing a bit of blood from the sell-sword without ever realizing.
Hatchet stared in nothing short of pity now, quickly releasing his pin, moving to provide another piece of bread, offering an entire slice this time. It was gone within seconds. The wolf reached for a piece of cheese next, but was absolutely taken aback as the summoned abruptly reached forward and snatched hold of both pieces before the wolf could.
The human slammed the wedges into his mouth as well, quickly breaking away from the table, scurrying to his corner with his back to the wolf, dropping to the floor as he choked down the food faster than seemed possible for him.
Hatchet could only stare. The human had his head in his hands now, leaning over, balling himself up protectively over his stomach as he rocked in place while sobbing the most silent and haunting tears the experienced wolf had ever seen.
Hatchet stood, walking back to his supplies with a new sense of understanding on the life the human had been living.... If a life is even what it could be called.
The human was distraught; knowing what was coming usually was the worst part of messing up.... This was the in-between. He knew he had done wrong, and he knew that punishment would be great and swiftly administered, he was simply waiting for it. He knew he would soon feel the new master grab him yet again. He would turn him around, he would beat him until he was still, and then he would cut the stolen food out of him, just as the first master had. He felt that wolf's claws rest bodingly on his head.
`I ate the bread. I deserve this.' The human thought to himself in crushing acceptance. He had no idea how right he was.
Hatchet gently rubbed the human's dark hair, swirling his claws lightly through the shorter strands that remained. He let his touch linger there for a moment, not wanting to scare the human by reacting too forcefully again. That wasn't what the summoned needed. That wasn't how Hatchet wanted to make him feel.
An undeniable touch came at his shoulder with the master's other hand, slowly but firmly coaxing him to shift positions. He was being directed to sit up, revealing his stomach to the beast. The human guarded his belly weakly, trying to protect it, finding even his arms were unable to cover the deep scarring over it from other such punishment for this crime in the past. He felt the master pull one of his arms free, revealing his stomach, only confirming what the wolf's goal was. That is, until the new master pressed an entire loaf of bread into his hand next.
The human stopped breathing again. Then he ate the loaf of bread, some more cheese, and even a few pieces of jerky the new master had pulled out for him. He ate so greedily until there was not a crumb left. For the first time since he had arrived, he didn't feel like he was starving anymore. He let his trembling fingers idly tug at the pants he was wearing after, relishing the feeling of being covered again, of being full. He looked back to the bed, the one he had been too afraid to sleep in just that same morning....
Hatchet noticed the longing stare.
A sudden presence became recognizable, the feeling of his leash being lightly grasped. The new master stood, coaxing him to follow by the action. He did so, feeling a small degree of hesitancy that there was some trap still about to spring on him. He was led over to the bed provided for him, and that trap seemed evident enough to the human as the master took a seat near the pillows.
The wolf patted the space beside him on the bed, seemingly in command to the human. After the human hesitated for a moment, he felt a gentle tug on his leash, reassuring him that this was an order he was to follow. With a heavy head and wary eyes mostly closed, he obeyed the command, sitting beside his large new master.
He accepted this, steeling himself, `It's the master's turn to get something. That's fair. He fed me and clothed me first, I'll please him all he wants if he will allow me such things.'
The master patted his lap, moving his other hand up to the human's neck, guiding him slowly to bring his head towards it.
The human did as commanded, leaning over, nearing the master's crotch, figuring he would start right in. He moved a hand inside of the master's waistband, preparing to lower his pants and service him. A firm hand rushed to stop the human's own, the wolf's other hand moved to the back of his head, pressing it lower, bringing it down to rest on the his lap instead. Before the human could understand what was happening, he felt those claws drifting across his scalp again.
He silently gasped, shuddering shortly after in pure bliss as his new master caressed him so softly, soothing his fears so finitely, allowing him to lay in the soft bed he had provided, his head resting so securely in his lap. He wondered what he had done to deserve such a thing, knowing he had done little to please the new master at all.
It was the strangest thing for the human.... The gospel didn't seem to have the answer this time. However, he would find that perhaps his dreams did. He succumbed to his exhaustion at last, feeling safe enough for true sleep for the first time in years. Not even the master's steps had awoken him that time.
~ ~ ~
Well, there's chapter 2. Had a huge fiasco where I lost an entire chapter edit of AKL, so since I couldn't stand the thought of redoing that just yet, I jumped back to this for a second. Absolutely loved this chapter though. Things are progressing a little faster than I anticipated, but its rolling smoothly enough. Would love to hear y'alls thoughts now that we are 2 chapters in. Regardless, thanks for reading. I hope you enjoy where this is all heading.