Uncharted Waters

Remember that disclaimer at the begining about S&M? It was referring to this chapter.
Not for the light of heart.


Chapter X


Chains.


The room was filled with chains. Dangling from the ceiling, mounted on the wall, snaking across the floor, they glittered ominously in the shallow light. Their dull gleam was the only thing hisn eyn eyes could make out in the blackened room, the light from the doorway serving as his only illumination, doing little to aid his vision. His ears, however, could pick up the sounds of ragged breathing and the scraping of metal against concrete as the metal links were jostled from stillness.

A hissing sound followed by a cursing in a language he did not understand echoed softly in the room.

The individual in the doorway’s lips turned down in displeasure, “I thought I told you to stay still.”

With a sneer the figure strode forward, unfurling the instrument around his waist and letting his arm fly up and back down with a furious *CRACK*.

A smile creased his face when a scream broke through the air and a mist of blood hit his face. He loved the feel of it, loved the way it trickled from his cheeks down to his mouth. He swiped his tongue across his lips, savoring the metallic taste. With a bark of laughter he brought his arm up, his fingers dancing along the corded handle, winding the whip to life again, *CRACK *CRACK *CRACK *

Another scream, longer this time, choking at the end. The chains rattled violently, holding their captive who was straining against them in vain.

“Is... Is that the best you can do?” the voice rasped.

He growled at the insolence, but then chuckled, “You want more, you pathetic little monkey?” He moved over to the wall and flipped a switch that flooded the room with light. “Fine. I’m more than willing to accommodate your every demand, your highness,” he finished mockingly.

The room was circular, white, and barren. Heavy chains and shackles were criss-crossed in mid-air, making the room resemble a twisted spider-web. In the center dangled the Saiyan prince. His arms were shackled, out-stretched to his sides, hanging from a cross section of beams in the center of the room. His legs were spread and secured by manacles around his ankles, the restraints leading down to the floor several feet below where they were threaded through rings imbedded in the cement. The ensemble was finished by a metal collar clasped around his throat connecting him to the network of metal and steel surrounding him.

He was stripped bare of his clothing, save for a scrap of cloth around his genitals. His back was laced with crimson slash marks, rivulets of blood poured from his wounds down his legs to drip to the floor below him.

Theler ler man’s cock stirred at the sight before him. He ran a hand down his length through the fabric of his pants, eyes fixed on his prize.

“You would enjoy this, you sick fuck.”

A twisted smile curled on the Namek’s lips. He moved forward, causing the Saiyan to flinch slightly.

A sinister laugh met the prince’s ears in response. Cursing himself, he stared the other warrior down, betraying no further emotion.

“I enjoy your pain, yes.” He reached up and curled a finger around the chin of his prisoner. As if burned, Vegeta jerked his head away from the touch. “Filthy whore!” the Namek snarled, slapping him soundly across the face.

The Saiyan’s head snapped to the side; it felt like his cheek was on fire, stars were dancing in front of his eyes. Before he could recover his eyes screwed shut and a grunt of pain escaped him when a fistful of his hair was twisted in his captor’s fist. Slowly his head was forced back around so that he was facing the Demon Lord once again.

“I see you need another lesson in manners.”

The prince glared daggers at the Namek, “Yeah, well I see you need to—

The punch to his gut instantly silenced him, his body spasmed as it was refused the right to double over. His breath was stolen in a hacking wheeze; a small amount of blood flew from his lips to the wall across from him.

“Silence!” Piccolo snapped, eyes narrowing dangerously.

He moved out of the Saiyan’s line of vision, however the prince could hear the sound of chains being moved around. Abruptly, his world went topsy-turvy. Upside down noe woe wondered frantically what was about to happen.

“While this human device may have been amusing,” the Saiyan winced as the whip snapped across the back of his thighs, “I get the feeling that you find it insulting that I would use such a pathetic weapon on you. What can I say? Old clichés are hard to overcome. I have to admit this one does hold a certain appeal to me,” Vegeta stifled a yelp as he was lashed across the ass, determined not to cry out again, but he failed when the corded leather tore across his tail spot. His screams reverberated off the walls, much to the delight of the man behind him.

“Appealing indeed,” the Namek sighed, his voice thick. “But,” he continued as he walked around to face the prince, “I think that we could find something more appropriate for someone of your…status.”

Tossing the bullwhip aside, his black eyes slowly glowed red. Vegeta fought against his restraints, knowing what was coming. But it was of no use, the more he moved, the more the irollaollar around his neck strangled him. Without warning, two beams shot from the Demon Lord’s eyes, catching the side of his ribs and the lower part of his arm. They ripped through his smooth skin with ease; a splatter of blood fell down to coat his face. His cries of pain were ignored. The Saiyan shut his eyes against the pain, but to no avail.

Still the assault continued followed by yellow beams of ki, slicing at his chest, tearing at his legs and arms. His mouth opened and throat constricted, but no sound issued forth, his throat raw from the earlier screaming.

Finally, everything came to a stop.

Again a finger touched his face, but this time he did not shirk from the touch.

“Very good.” Came a husky whisper in his ear. Timidly, he opened his eyes. The Namek was kneeling before him, shirtless, tight black leather clad his long legs, tucked into knee high boots that somehow managed to stay spotless despite the amount of blood on the floor.

“Are you going to cooperanow?now?”

The Namek didn’t flinch when a mouth full of blood was spit in his face. He opened his eyes calmly to stare into the face that was looking back at him smugly, in utter rebellion. He smirked himself, blood dripping from the tip of his nose; he stood and backed away a few steps. Red flames erupted from his hands. He raised them, ready to deliver a terrible blow, then stopped short, the deadly flames extinguishing.

“What’s this?”

A look of panic crossed the Saiyan’s features when he realized what his captor was staring at.

“Well, well, now I see the reason for your stubbornness,” Piccolo said in dark amusement, wiping the blood from his face with the back of his hand.

The scrap of fabric around the older man’s groin had come loose in the melee revealing a very firm erection. The tall warrior’s mocking laughter filled the room, he looked down into the face of the prince, noting the slight tinge of pink across his cheeks.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? And you called me the sick fuck?” He chuckled. “Well, this puts a new spin on things doesn’t it? Or maybe not…”

He sent a blast to his prisoner’s chest, watching the Saiyan’s prick in the mean time. The blast hit full force, Vegeta cried out, but his arousal did not wilt, if anything, it became more rigid.

“I see,” said the Namekian warrior. “Well, it’s not often I get someone so willing. I think I’m going to enjoy this even more than before. Mind you,” he said kneeling in front of the prince again, breath ghosting over the aristocrat’s face, “I always had every intention of fully sating myself.”

A chill ran up the Saiyan’s spine; as much as he hated himself for it, he was enjoying his horrible treatment. Despite his best efforts he moaned when a hand wrapped firmly around his cock, a bit too firmly. He squirmed, “Let me go, you sadistic, low-born freak! How dare you touch me!?” But the protest sounded weak, even to his own ears.

Another evil chuckle rang out above him.

Even though all of the blood was rushing to his head in his current inverted state, there still seemed to be a good supply pumping to his member, as it started to pulse within the green man’s grasp. He felt a tongue swipe over one of the many cuts on his thigh, moving along in no certain pattern. His eyes rolled at the sensation. He was close to coming; the disgrace of it all was not lost on him. But the treatment stopped short.

The Namek fell back, a smirk quirking his blood stained lips, his hand stroking his own erection, which was outlined plainly in the tight leather. Slowly, he loosened the belt around his waist, unbuttoning the fastenings of the strained garment, “If you bite me,” he said while freeing himself of the restrictive fabric, “I’ll bite you back. And I guarantee you won’t enjoy it.” He bared his fangs to drive the point home.

Although stubborn, Vegeta was not a fool, so when he was presented with the long, thick emerald shaft he opened his mouth with only a hate-filled glare.

A deep sigh broke from the younger man’s lips as his captive’s pliant mouth wrapped around him. Uncaring of his reluctant lover’s well being he thrust harshly down the Saiyan’s throat, delighting in the gagging he heard beneath him. He was eye level with the elite’s prick; it bobbed alluringly, tantalizing further licentious thoughts from him. The Saiyan’s blood had been sweet, why wouldn’t this be as well?

Without a second thought he wrapped his hands around the Saiyan’s backside, feeling for himself the damage he had left there earlier. Even though the slashes were still fresh, the blood was starting to congeal, closing the wounds off. Yet they re-opened easily when the Namek smoothed his hands down the thighs and ass, coating them in crimson. With a purr, he pulled the prince’s hips closer to him, and engulfed his leaking prick in one fell swoop, swallowing him whole.

A muffled shout came from below him, but he ignored it, sucking his captor’s cock while driving his own further down the other’s throat. After a minute he felt teeth graze his length none-too-gently; he scraped his canines against the flesh in his mouth in warning. Hearing a whimper in response, he pulled out.

Vegeta gulped for air, coughed, and gagged all at the same time. He nearly threw up as his violent abductor had hit his gag reflex one too many times; his eyes were watering terribly, a few tears ran up his face. But above it all, he was aching like never before, his body and his cock. He felt close to bursting. The chill air of the sparse room hit his saliva coated prick, teasing him further as tremors racked his body. He wanted to cry in frustration, but his pride refused to break, even at this point.

It was here that he noticed that the green warrior was out of sight again; the world whirled as his prone figure was twisted back around and over so now that he lay horizontal, face turned towards the cement ground splattered with his own blood. Light-headed and dizzy as the blood pooled away from his head, he slumped against his restraints. However, pain hit his body once more as he felt fingers trail along each slash on his back.

“Get…Get away!”

“I think not…no,” the sound of links passing under a metal ring reached his ears; the tension of the chains connected to his ankles was increased dramatically. His eyes widened when he felt his legs spread further apart, “I think I want to get much closer.”

“No, don’t!” The prince gasped, desperation in his voice.

He was rewarded with cold laughter as the Namek pulled the leather further down, just enough to release himself fully. He placed a hand on the scored ass cheeks of the prince, spreading him apart.

“Stop…please.” The tone wavered, as if unsure of itself.

“Are you sure?” the taller man asked, not caring what the answer was, positioning himself at the tight opening. “You don’t sound so to me.”

“Don’t—AH!!!” The prince screeched as he was thrust into, utterly unprepared.

“Gods!” The Namek grunted, a breath leaving him as he buried himself halfway into the bound man. “You’re so tight,” he gasped. Gradually he drew himself out and plunged back in, driving more of himself into the tight opening, repeating the action until he was fully seated.

The Saiyan prince grunted with every painful thrust, his body slowly adapting to the invading length. He writhed underneath his tormentor and against the chains pointlessly, gasps and cries mixing in his throat.

Piccolo drove himself into the elite, fingers digging painfully into his hips. He moaned in pleasure as he watched his thick t dit disappear again and again into the tight ring of muscle of the insolent prince.

“Filthy monkey whore…” he breathed, “This is what you get for defying me. This is what you deserve…oh.” He groaned as he felt the elite’s canal tighten around him; he thrust harder, groaning at the friction sliding around his cock like a warm wet glove, “I’m going to fuck you like a dog…that’s what you are…a nasty unclean animal. Unfit for the world. I’uck uck you until you break, Saiyan bitch…fuck you until you shatter.” With a jagged breath he rolled his hips forward, hitting his captor’s prostate. The smaller man whimpered beneath him, moaning incoherently.

“You like it, don’t you? Filthy mongrel cunt.”

He heard a sob beneath him, digging his fingers in further into the abused flesh he slammed his hips down, “You can’t get enough of this can you? You want it—,”

“Gods, Yes!” the Saiyan cried, trying his hardest to thrust back against the invading cock tearing into him. His own member was bobbing unattended in time with the violent propulsions of the Namek. A string of pre-cum was dripping from the tip, connecting him to the floor. The mixture of pain and pleasure was sending him reeling, but he could do nothing but hang there and take it. The wounds along his body shrieked when sweat poured across them adding to the peculiar sensation of pleasure and agony. Blood was everywhere; the smell of it and combined with the overpowering reek of musk was overloading his senses.

“More!” he cried, desperate. “More, gods… more!” Pain, pleasure, he wanted it all.

Piccolo laughed coldly at the plea, then groaned in rapture when the Saiyan tightened around him further.

“Harder!” the Prince demanded, but quickly softened his tone, “Please...harder.” the prince cried, finally begging.

“Whore.” The Namek stated, but obliged and pistoned his hips harder, jolting the chains violently.

“Yes…” the Saiyan confirmed, a look of ecstasy painted on his face.

Close now, the taller warrior twisted the chain around his hand that was connected to the iron collar, pulling the prince backward so that he was nearly arched in two. His airway was cut off completely; he tried to fight it but no air would reach his lungs. He gasped in vain, his mind fogging over, and then suddenly his entire body shook, the invading cock was now slamming into him un-restrained, fucking him into unconsciousness, abusing his prostate. No air...he couldn’t get any air, and then with a silent scream he arched further, his entire body tensing, uncoiling, until finally the world went white and oblivion hit him like sledge hammer.

Cum splattered on the ground in thick streams, mixing with the blood and sweat on the cold floor as his battered body spasmed uncontrollably in mid-air.

The violent muscle contractions of the Saiyan wrenched the orgasm from the Namek with a screech. Letting go of the chain, he ground into the backside of the elite, hips jerking, as wave upon wave of pleasure rocked his frame as he spent himself deep into his captive.

With a huff, he collapsed across the bloodied back of the smaller man. Tiny tremors laced up his body as he slowly pistoned the last of his seed into the prince. After a moment he pulled out, legs shaking. He sat himself gingerly on the gruesome cement floor before his legs gave out.

He made a move to crawl over to the Saiyan, but the chains suddenly snapped from the wall. The prince lowered himself to the floor, wrapping a hand around the iron collar and breaking it off with ease. The shackles crumbled to dust with a bust of energy.

Relieved he didn’t have to move the Namek laid back. Vegeta made his own move to crawl to him, but his limbs were wobbling horribly. With a grin, and a wave of the Namek’s hand, the prince skidded across the floor into his arms.

“You okay?” he asked, looking his lover over, running a hand gingerly over some of the lash marks.

“Fine…” the Saiyan managed to rasp.

“We’ll see.” Taking a deep breath he managed to find his legs; scooping his mate up he carried him into an adjacent room. Unlike the sparseness of the other room, this one was lush with plants, in the center was a giant marble tub sunk into the ground, all ready filled with warm scented water.

Gingerly he lowered his lover into the bath. Vegeta hissed as the water hit his wounds, but the pain quickly dissipated. Apparently, the water had some sort of healing element added to it as he felt his limbs and back go slightly numb. He leaned back, watching as his mate kicked his boots off and peeled the grimy leather from his skin. He entered the water, taking hold of his lover and gently washing away the blood that covered them both. Luckily they were in the tub that constantly re-filled itself, the same Vegeta had been introduced to eight years ago.

Fresh water revealed the actual damage that the Saiyan Prince endured. It had looked a lot worse than it was; the lash marks and cuts were superficial, and easily healed. Still, just to be sure, the Namek inspected each wound, until the elder Saiyan batted him away.

‘I’m fine, my throat hurts more than anything else,’ he managed mentally.

“Heh, sorry about that, guess I got carried away.” Piccolo said sheepishly, while he summoned something to soothe the elite’s throat.

Vegeta grinned, ‘Wouldn’t have it any other way.’ He greedily drank what was given to him, his voice growing strong enough to speak out loud, “I think it was due more to the screaming than anything else, although you did about gag me earlier - and I’m not talking about the collar.”

“Yeah I noticed. You could have stopped me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, I was having too good a time,” he curled into the Namek’s chest, “besides you picked up on it rather quickly, so no harm done.”

Piccolo smiled and kissed the brow of the Saiyan Prince lovingly. Reaching to the side he plucked up a bottle of shampoo and set to work on the Saiyan’s hair that was still matted in places with blood. Vegeta all but purred in contentment. Shutting his eyes he leaned into the Namek’s hands as skilled fingers massaged his scalp and lathered his black flame of hair. After rinsing, the process was repeated again until the younger man seemed satisfied his lover was fully clean. He then turned his attention to elite’s body, running a soapy sponge over every inch of skin, being mindful of the shallow cuts that tattooed his pale flesh.

Vegeta twisted in his arms to return the favor, which the Namek allowed without much protest. He was the one supposed to do the pampering, as it was he who did the beating, but one could only argue so far.

After they were clean the Prince seated himself on his lover’s stomach wrapping his arms around the well-muscled chest and leaning his head on a broad shoulder. After their more violent play, Vegeta became extremely affectionate. He was raining tiny kisses on the taller warriors collar bone, curling himself further around his mate.

The entire thing had been an act, one they had perfected over time, yet always with different elements. Over the years, they had found out each other’s quirks. Piccolo liked to be dominated, verbally, through mind games and will power. Physically, however, he was a true sadist. It was something that had scared him to his very core, so he hid it away. He considered it his darker side, always acknowledging it, but never dreaming of acting on it. It was twisted, it was wrong.

Vegeta, on the other hand, loved to order people about, but when it came to physical blows, he much preferred to be the receiver than the benefactor. He had always been ashamed of masomasochist streak, and buried it away, considering it a flagrant weakness - not only a weakness, but also something sick – something wrong.

Yet through their bond, they discovered each other’s darkest secrets, fears, and desires. It was miraculous that they complimented each other not only in personality, but in ‘sicknesses’ as well.

The first time they had acted upon this it was admittedly awkward at first, each afraid of how far things would go. But once they opened themselves, everything had poured forth. This thing that had lurked in their minds’ as something ultimately wrong became the most right thing in the world. Not only had a weight lifted from them internally, but even on the outside things had changed. And for the better, they were fully at ease now, no longer bearing the cross of shame or fear.

“I love you.”

Vegeta looked up his younger mate, a warm smile reaching his lips. He pulled his lover down and kissed him tenderly. “I love you too,” he stated, exchanging gentle touchesses ses ses with his lover, never more happy or content in his life. The Namek returned his smile; holding him close, content to stay that way for the longest time.

“Oh,” Vegeta stated, realization dawning on him.

“What?” Piccolo asked a bit sleepily.

“Shouldn’t we clean up that room? What if Dende or Popo walks in—?”

“All ready taken care of, though could you imagine the reaction?”

Vegeta laughed softt tht the image of Dende walking into a room filled with chains and blood, among other things, splattered all over the floor and walls.

“The kid would probably die of fright, then you’d have to actually do something constructive and play guardian.”

“Constructive...feh, what do you do all day?” he said nipping the Saiyan’s ear, “Besides, I’d make a terrible guardian.”

Vegeta smirked, “Oh I don’t know, I think you would do fine, maybe even be an improvement.”

“Hn, I’d get pissed and wipe out all of the stupid people,” he said lazily.

“I know. Bye-bye Kakarott.”

Piccolo chuckled, “Stop that; be nice.”

Vegeta grumbled in response, closing his eyes, wanting to drift off to sleep. However, sleeping in a tub wasn’t the best of ideas, and tiredly they picked themselves up, dried off, and moved to the bedroom where they wrapped around each other in an embrace of utter security, sleep claiming them softly.

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Well wasn\'t that fun, kiddies?