But oh, how fall'n! How changed
From him who, in the happy realms of light,
Clothed with transcendent brightness, didst outshine
Myriads though bright!"
--Milton
Philip lay in the warm, comfortable bed shivering. He had tried to sleep, but Arkadi's words echoed through his head the instant he tried to relax, the instant he tried not to think about anything. The only thing that would keep those terrible words quiet was prayer -- which, to Philip, was nearly as easy as breathing, usually.
Now, however, even that simple comfort failed him as prayers for Derek reminded him of the damning information. The war within his mind was all the more difficult because it was not only against Arkadi's words, but also against his own fears and doubts . . .
_If Arkadi's not lyin',_ he thought, realizing he couldn't escape it, _then it *must* have been a while ago -- before Derek joined the Legacy. He'd *never* do somethin' like that with an enemy of the Legacy as long as he was a member..._
The voice of doubt whispered to him: _Then why did he seem so sad when Nick threatened Arkadi? He's a member of the Legacy *now* . . ._
_I don't *know*!_ Philip thought, trying to silence the doubts. He loved and trusted Derek, but now part of him was seriously beginning to doubt if he *should* trust him. Of course Derek hadn't told him about that part of his past -- he probably wanted to forget it. But the doubt still nibbled at the back of his mind, wondering if that was the true reason he had never brought it up . . .
_The Nephilim were the children of fallen angels -- angels who fell through lust,_ Philip's doubt reminded him. _Remember the cursed scroll, the Mark of Cain -- remember what the Tribunal said. Maybe he's just been hiding his true nature all this time._
"No, I *won't* b'lieve that!" Philip said firmly, forcing his mind to return to his prayers.
Some time later he fell into a fitful, restless sleep, tortured by dreams of Derek leaving him and the Legacy to be with Arkadi. The sound of the door closing startled him awake and he sat up suddenly, trying to look around the room in the darkness. "Who's there?!" he hissed, not sure if he was alone. When there was no answer, he reached for the lamp, his hand coming into contact with something on the nightstand before he found the switch. He turned the lamp on to see a thick photo album next to it.
_Oh God . . ._ he thought, hands suddenly trembling. Even as he told himself he didn't want to see what was in it, he found himself opening the book to a random page. "Sweet Jesus . . ." he breathed as he focused on the picture before him. Even as a priest, living in San Francisco had exposed Philip to some of the less commonplace sexual practices. He was fully aware of what went on in the various bars and clubs in the Castro area, and knew some of the more vanilla gay sex from first hand experience. However, this picture was far from vanilla, and it wasn't some unknown couple in an ad for a club . . . He realized from the heat in his face that he must be blushing, but the sight of a younger Derek in the throes of ecstacy was compelling. The picture showed Derek, his body arched back in orgasm and his lips parted in a moan of pleasure, straddling Arkadi and impaled on his cock. Philip tried to close the book and found he couldn't -- he blinked and tried to look away as the other details of the picture began to filter through his mind: the marks on Derek's back and thighs that were obviously from some kind of whipping, the black leather collar tight about his beautiful throat, the fact that his hands were bound together behind him -- and the clamps on his nipples!
"Oh my God!" Philip gasped, finally managing to slam the book closed and wishing fervently he'd never opened it. It was too warm in the room all of a sudden, and there seemed to be no air.
"Beautiful, isn't he?"
Philip yelped and jumped to his feet as Arkadi's voice startled him. He spun around to see the man standing on the other side of the bed, realized he must have been watching him look at the photo. "How long've you been here?" he blurted accusingly.
"The whole time, Philip. I see you *liked* the picture," he said smugly, motioning towards Philip's partial erection.
"I liked th' look on his face, not what you'd done t'him," Philip growled in answer. He looked nervously at Arkadi, realizing the man was dressed in a black silk brocade robe trimmed in deep purple, and little -- if anything -- else. _Uh oh..._ he thought, beginning to back away. _Maybe he's left the door unlocked!_
Arkadi smiled as Philip suddenly rushed for the door and found it unlocked.
He swung the door wide -- and nearly ran into Josef. Large hands fastened on
his shoulders, and Arkadi walked around the bed to stand right behind him.
"Take him to the playroom, Josef," he instructed, standing so close to Philip
that his breath tickled the priest's ear.
Josef pushed Philip into another room and stood blocking the doorway until
Arkadi joined them. "Thank you, Josef, now please wait for our other guest to
arrive. Send him in when he does," Arkadi instructed, then he closed the door
and advanced on Philip. The priest backed a few steps away, then stopped dead
as he got a good look at the room. There was a bed in the room with chains and
shackles attached to its frame, a nightstand, and a trunk that contained who-
knew-what. The sheets on the bed were a black satiny material, and the room
was lit entirely by candles -- if it weren't for the presence of his host, and
the obvious restraints on the bed, Philip might have found the room rather
appealing. Instead, it was terrifying...
"Leave me alone," he warned, praying his soccer skills might help him win a
fight with the larger man -- at least he wasn't woozy from the drug any more,
and Arkadi was nowhere near as large and strong as Josef.
Arkadi laughed and walked calmly towards him, then said, "The door's unlocked
-- you can leave this room if you can get past me, although Josef won't let
you out of the house. Come on, Philip, what are you so afraid of? Breaking
your vows? I believe the phrase is 'been there, done that'?"
"You bastard!" Philip growled, edging back and trying to work his way around
so that he could run past Arkadi towards the door.
"So, what do you think of Derek now, Philip?" Arkadi asked, knowing that
would distract the priest and make him much easier to overwhelm. "He's
beautiful when he comes, isn't he? It's incredible when he loses control --
that wonderful voice moaning in glorious pleasure . . ."
"Y'tricked him somehow -- drugged or somethin'!" Philip said desperately.
"So amusing, that you refuse to believe Derek could enjoy that kind of thing
on his own -- you aren't the kind who thinks that's 'sick', are you? Poor
Derek, having to live with friends like that," Arkadi purred, "It must be so
difficult for him to keep his own needs so submerged."
Philip shook his head and said, "No -- I-- Why would he want to be hurt?" The
words were out of his mouth before he ever realized it. He cringed inwardly
when Arkadi laughed.
"Some people just like the intensity, Philip. Derek's one of them -- perhaps,
when he arrives, I'll show you how much he likes it." He walked closer, and
said, "Perhaps, I should give you a demonstration now?"
"No!" Philip cried, making a break for the door on pure instinct and fear
instead of the careful planning he'd hoped to use. Arkadi dodged to the side
and grabbed at him, bringing him down in something close to a football tackle.
"Lemme go!"
"Too late, Philip. You had your chance," Arkadi purred, pulling Philip's arms
back behind him and moving to straddle the priest's legs so that he could hold
Philip down fairly well with one hand. He released him with the other hand and
reached into the robe's pocket for something. When Philip felt the thick cord
looping around his wrists, panic lent him strength. He bucked and struggled --
and prayed -- but Arkadi had the advantage. He was making it difficult for the
man to tie the cord securely, but he couldn't unseat him, and face down on the
floor he couldn't kick or bite him either.
"Le' me go!" Philip snarled, trying to claw at Arkadi's hands, anything to
stop this before it went any further!
"Struggle all you want, Philip, you'll only prolong this . . ." Arkadi hissed
as he finally managed to tie the cord securely around Philip's wrists. He
turned then, straddling Philip's legs again but now facing towards his feet,
and quickly tied another cord around his ankles before Philip could struggle
to his knees or turn beneath him. He could almost taste the priest's fear,
feel it emanating from him in waves as the seriousness of his situation sank
in. "Relax, Philip. You'll enjoy it so much more that way . . ."
"No . . ." Philip moaned, struggling against the bonds. He knew that what he
saw on the bed meant that these were more than likely just temporary bindings,
but the feeling of helplessness was overwhelming with both his hands and feet
tied. He prayed desperately for help to arrive -- for Nick to burst through
the front door and shoot Arkadi if need be -- but he couldn't even hear anyone
moving outside the room. "I don' want this -- when y'get caught, I'll testify
against ya!"
"Perhaps you will -- but right now, you're the one who's caught, Philip,"
Arkadi purred, standing up and looking down on his prize hungrily. Between the
priest's fear and writhing, he was beginning to grow hard. While he really
wanted to satisfy himself with Derek, debauching his ex-lover's pretty friend
would have to do -- for now. _I wonder if they'll ever trust you again after
this, my angel . . ._ he thought, directing his lust towards Derek.
Philip rolled onto his side, tried to get to his knees and ended up settling
for sitting instead. "Let me go, y'bastard." With his hands tied behind him
and his feet bound together, his balance was thrown off. When he tried to
struggle to his feet he fell back almost immediately, cursing under his breath
as Arkadi chuckled.
"Let me help you," Arkadi said softly, grabbing Philip under his arms and
hauling him to his feet, ignoring the grunt of pain as the awkward position
strained Philip's shoulders. He then quickly scooped Philip up into a
fireman's carry, careful to keep away from hands that were now straining to
gouge or scratch -- anything to try and gain some small victory. He smiled and
walked over to the bed, deposited Philip on it very carefully. "There, isn't
that better?"
"No!" Philip growled, far too aware that he was running out of options.
"Too bad." Arkadi rolled him onto his stomach and sat straddling his legs
again. While Philip struggled even more desperately, in a short time Arkadi
had his feet untied and one of them securely bound to the bed frame. Philip
bent the free leg back in an attempt to kick at Arkadi, but he wasn't at an
angle to do any real damage, and shortly both legs were bound. "I hope you're
not too fond of these jeans, Philip. You should have dressed in the pajamas I
provided," Arkadi purred as he turned around to sit on Philip the other way.
When Philip tried to buck him off, Arkadi grabbed the dark hair and forced his
face down into the pillow. "That's *enough*," he warned, his tone suddenly
dark and threatening. "There's no way to escape this. I can practically
*taste* your fear, and you're still not strong enough to free yourself. You're
just going to wear yourself out -- or get hurt -- and frankly it's getting a
little tiresome."
When he released Philip, the younger man lifted his head and took in great
gulps of air. While Philip was occupied, Arkadi untied his wrists and pulled
his left arm up over his head, then quickly fastened a leather restraint
around his wrist, binding him securely to the bed. After a brief struggle, the
other hand was similarly bound, at which point Arkadi stood and took a step
back, admiring his handiwork.
"Mmn . . . yes, very nice," he murmured, looking at the muscled legs and
nicely rounded buttocks as Philip's eyes blazed furiously at him.
"Let. Me. Go," Philip ground out, his accent even thicker than usual in his
anger. "What're you gonna do t'me now?"
"What do you think, Philip?" Arkadi reached into the pocket of his robe again
and withdrew a short-bladed folding knife. "But first, those jeans have to
go..."
"No!" Philip gasped as he felt Arkadi slide the knife under his jeans at one
ankle and begin to slice the material open. Arkadi cut both legs up to the
seat of Philip's jeans, then reached one hand under the priest and unbuckled
his belt, pulled it free of the belt loops. Once the belt was out of the way
he sliced the jeans open along the seam up through the waistband, then pulled
the ruined fabric out from under his captive. Next he sliced off Philip's
underwear, making sure to allow the cold metal of the blade to slide along the
priest's skin and enjoying the shiver it caused.
After the underwear, he slit Philip's shirt up the back and just pushed the
fabric aside, then he sat on the edge of the bed and gently traced designs on
Philip's back with the back of the blade. He heard Philip whispering, and when
he leaned closer, realized his captive was praying his heart out. He chuckled
softly and folded the knife, placed it carefully on the nightstand, then
gently stroked Philip's cheek.
"Why are you so frightened, Philip?" he asked, standing and walking to the
trunk. After retrieving an item, he returned to the bed and sat beside Philip
again, this time using the soft leather flogger he held to stroke up and down
Philip's spine. "I'm sure, with your education, you're well aware that priests
in medieval times used self-flagellation to purge themselves of impure
thoughts -- to punish themselves when they sinned . . ." He paused just enough
to hear the catch in Philip's breath, and then the increased fervor of his
whispered prayers, then he continued, "We both know you're a sinner, Philip --
I know you've slept with both of them. You've got a real problem with those
vows of yours, and it's about time someone did something about it."
He stood and Philip craned his neck to look up at him, eyes wide in terror as
he caught a glimpse of Arkadi's body beneath the now-loosened robe, the
rampant erection that the silk brocade failed to hide. "Oh my God . . ." he
whispered, fear clenching his heart as Arkadi raised the flogger and brought
it down rapidly.
The soft leather straps hit Philip across his buttocks, bringing a cry more
of fear than of pain as the stroke stung for only a moment. Then Philip turned
his head away, returning to his prayers and trying to hide his terror --
something told him that his fear was only feeding Arkadi's lust and the last
thing he should do was encourage it. Unfortunately, he failed to follow the
reasoning through -- if Arkadi wasn't getting the desired reactions to what he
was doing, he might try harder...
The next stroke was harder and the one after that harder still. By the fourth
stroke, Philip was feeling genuine pain, his prayers catching in his throat
with each lash -- until the next one wrenched a yelp from him. Arkadi paused
in his punishment and trailed the tips of the straps up and down the soft skin
of Philip's inner thighs, smiling as Philip looked back at him, surprised by
the sudden change of tactics. There was still terror in the sea-coloured eyes,
but this time it was a different kind of terror -- the kind of terror caused
when one finds out that he may not be as much in charge of his body as he
thought . . .
And just as Philip's muscles began to relax, Arkadi brought a hand down hard
on the tortured buttocks, laughing as his captive cried out in outraged pain.
"What's wrong, Philip?" he asked, now stroking the reddened flesh with one
hand and trailing the tips of the flogger up and down Philip's back with the
other.
Philip shook his head and buried his face in the pillow, trying to ignore
what was happening to him, praying for help or at least a way to survive this.
"Leave me alone . . ." he moaned as Arkadi dug nails into his sensitized skin.
"Please stop this."
"No, Philip. Look at you -- you're starting to react to this, aren't you? I
bet you're hard . . ." He leaned down and purred the next right in Philip's
ear, "You need to be punished for your sins, Philip."
"All that's Holy, give me strength," Philip whispered, turning away from
Arkadi and trying to hide the colour burning his cheeks.
"I doubt anyone's going to answer you, Philip," Arkadi purred in the other
ear, his breath tickling and making Philip gasp, "You know you should be
punished -- why should anyone stop me when you know you deserve this?"
Arkadi stood again and resumed flogging Philip, varying the strength and
location of the strokes now, smiling as his captive tried to squirm away from
the punishment. He knew that Philip's erection had wilted, but at this point
he didn't care -- the priest's helplessness and fear were tickling his senses,
the power he held over this man burning in his blood and bringing him ever
closer to orgasm without even touching himself. He was so close -- just a few
more strokes and--
As he raised his arm to lash Philip again, someone grabbed his wrist and a
familiarly accented voice yelled "Stop this now!"
The aborted downstroke pulled his attacker close -- he could feel burning
heat through his robe and wondered just how long Derek had stood there,
watching, before he moved to rescue his friend. Before he turned, he caught a
glimpse of Philip's face, warring expressions of relief and uncertainty
flickering in the sea-blue eyes. Then he turned and met Derek's furious gaze.
"Let him go," Derek commanded, looking past Arkadi to Philip and frowning as
he saw the condition his friend was in.
"Derek, no!" Philip groaned, "Don' do this!"
Derek shook his head and said, "I won't let him do this to you, Philip. You
haven't done anything to deserve this. Victor, let him *go*!"
"You haven't even let me go, Derek," Arkadi purred, bringing up his free hand
to stroke Derek's cheek and smiling when Derek tried to shake him off. "I
*will* let him go, but there will be a price."
"There always is with you, Victor," Derek whispered bitterly. He released
Arkadi's arm and nodded, suddenly unable to look at Philip.
"Very good," Arkadi said with a smile, then he adjusted his robe and walked
to the door, where Derek and Philip could hear him quietly instructing Josef
although neither of them could hear exactly what he was saying.
"Derek, don't . . ." Philip said softly, his voice catching.
"It's too late, Philip, it's already done."
To be continued in part 12
Poltergeist: The Legacy is (c) 1997 MGM/UA and Trilogy Entertainment. This
story is not intended to infringe on these copyrights.
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