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The Circle	By : Triyune Category: DC Verse Comics > Batman Views: 2614 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not make money of writing this fiction and I don't own Batman nor the characters from that universe.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
Warnings / spoilers: dominance/submission, master/slave, piercing, delayed orgasm, oral, branding, whipping, hurt/comfort

The Circle
Part 2: The marking

I recovered only slowly. My mood had gotten worse, I couldn’t distract myself anymore; my thoughts were constantly circling around the same subject.
And I knew that I could never have him. Thoughts of him and that rape in the castle took turns and both were just killing me. I was damaged goods, now not just mentally. I wouldn’t stand a chance against those high society first class girls he was always accompanied by. And even if he was into men as well he would never give me a chance.
It was my own fault after all, but I couldn’t but behave the way I just did when he was around. I had to sneer at him and grind his gear, I never thought much about it but just did it. Maybe it was just a means to keep me from acknowledging that I craved his attention and approval.
Teasing is a sign of affection, some said.
Desperately, I turned on the TV on the table to get a dose of brainwashing. It was late and they were showing the news. Bruce Wayne cutting some ribbon for some hospital for the poor. I turned off the TV and went to sleep.
During the next weeks, I ascended from the seventh to the second circle of hell, leaving the murderers behind and joining the sinful lovers. My appetite was still gone and my days were dull, mostly, I was spending them leaning on the sofa and looking out of the window. The days when I had been king of the streets now seemed like a farce to me. How could I have lost all that? What had happened in the chateau only was a symptom of my new illness.
There were even days when I could barely keep myself from harming myself with some kitchen knife or a razor blade. It was just pathetic.
I had trusted them all, dressing up, going there and then I had been betrayed so shamelessly. By now, I wished that man hadn’t saved me from that rape at all. I dreamed of lying on that cold table, getting fucked, over and over again, ripped open, my guts spilling on the metal. I couldn’t think straight anymore; it started when I woke up and ended when I fell asleep, day by day.
And I had run out of milk again.
Two months later a black envelope was lying on the floor. After recovering from the pang in my heart I took it with shaky fingers and opened it.
“Friday, 26th, 8 p.m.”
Joy and panic hit me at the same time. Until I was able to sort them out I sat down on the bed, staring at the sheet of paper.
The Volto appeared in my thoughts. There were too many of them than to find this one again.
Now that I had the chance to go there and get my brains fucked out of my head the way I had been dreaming of it I was unsure about it. If I saw those masks again I would just live through that trauma again and at that point, I wasn’t sure whether I wanted that at all.
Especially the Bauta was giving me nightmares of the worst kind and there wasn’t one night when it didn’t hunt me down.
On the 23rd, my despair had reached such an intense level that I went out to get me another black tailcoat. I spent the night casting a new mask. A three-faced one, only that either of them was laughing and probably not even the third one.
That was who I really was. They weren’t protecting me from the others and they weren’t allowing me to show my real self. The masks were my real self. I, who constantly was wearing a mask with red lips, black framed eyes and white skin, needed another mask to show my real self.
When painting the faces I cried.
I resisted the urge to get up and slash my throat. Instead, I got up for a glass of water. After pouring a generous, a very generous amount of salt into it I drank it just to throw up instantly. I repeated that until I felt so weak that I could only crawl to the bed on all fours, leaving the mask on the table. Satisfaction claimed my mind for a short time but it was like holidays from the usual thoughts.
That night, the Bauta met me again in a dark alley. Bathed in sweat I woke up and faced darkness.
I had had a similar feeling back those days when I dreamed of shady guys menacing me, pressing knives against my throat, asking for the money I owed them. Jack had had those dreams.
In a sudden fit I got up, fetched a marker from a drawer and drew a smile on both faces of the mask. I had always been mastering the game of forcing myself to be happy and I wouldn’t back down now either.
I sat down on the sofa and switched on the TV. After 10 minutes I had fallen asleep again.
The next day I ditched the mask and went to a toy shop to get me a blank white Volto mask since I had ruined the three-faced one during that nightly escapade. I didn’t do much more than sitting around on the sofa and trying to distract myself by painting the surface of the couch table in a checkerboard pattern of purple and black. In the evening of the 25th there was just a quarter of brown wood left but instead of finishing it I turned to the mask, cut off the mouth piece and poshed it up with a black and white checkerboard pattern.
On the 26th I started the procedure of turning into Jack right after getting up. However, this time, I wasn’t going to be Jack. I dyed my hair black and inserted white contact lenses. To top it all, I took a bottle of black ink and poured it down my chin and chest. It looked like I had thrown up black bile.
Tasty.
There wasn’t much more left than black and white in my world. Win or lose, sink or swim. I spent the rest of the day developing a new personality, a new ego state, a new identity which could take over when I needed it. I called it Joker.
I left the house at 8 p.m. and entered the taxi.
I wouldn’t accept the drink this time. No way would I.
As the flashing lights of the castle made me leave my imaginary world I pursed my lips. I had just been doing nasty things to him.
The driver opened the door and I got out. After entering the chateau, a servant gave me the signal to follow him upstairs, which I did. Up there, he opened the first door and let me enter.
The room was lusciously decorated with golden stucco. In the middle of that baroque hell I discovered the black Bauta. He sat by his desk and invited me to sit down with a nod.
“Dear Sir,” he started, leaning back in his antique desk chair which was modern enough to give way for his comfortableness.
I kept staring at him, furious at that sight. At this moment, I just wanted to burn down that castle but Joker took over.
“What do you want?” he said.
I was surprised how calm his voice was. How serious, how unagitated. Mine always sounded low and shrill to me at the same time but that was the voice of a self-composed man whose silence and calmness only doubled the notion of danger surrounding him.
I liked him.
“We are sorry to say that your start wasn’t a very good one-“
“Indeed.”
“And that this will never happen to you again.”
“How come.”
The Bauta leaned forward again.
“We do this when it becomes a necessity.”
I pressed my lips together in utmost fury and Joker pushed in: “What do you mean?”
“I cannot tell you, I apologize. You have to trust me that it has become a necessity.”
“Fuck you,” my usual self spat in his face and stood up but Joker hurried to save what still could be saved.
“There are some owls here as well. I thought they were the highest in Gotham.”
The Bauta kept silence.
“I thought they ruled Gotham.”
“They do.”
“You are not part of them.”
“You are right, I am not part of them.”
Joker told me to shut up and to let him talk.
“They bow to your rules.”
“They bow to our rules because we don’t exist. This place, the street to this place, the taxis, the servants, the guests...nothing of that exists. We are a black hole in Gotham.”
Now even Joker didn’t know what to reply and I wanted to say something but he kept me from it by taking off the mask. I was shocked. How could he.
“I do exist. And I was mistreated. There is no excuse.”
I really started liking him.
The Bauta didn’t bat an eye.
“You consented to our rules by entering. You could have asked any time, anyone.”
“What a bad excuse, you could have, you could have,” I mocked him by imitating him but yet again, Joker had something else in mind.
“That doesn’t help me anymore. I didn’t expect such cruel behaviour when I entered this house, especially not after this classy invitation.”
“Why have you come back, Sir?” the Bauta said without the slightest hint of a smile but I could just feel it.
I needed a moment to calm down because I knew that I had to think of a very good phrase now in order to still come out as the winner. To buy me some time, I carefully put on the mask again, plucked at my suit and cleared my throat.
“To make up for it,” I finally replied threateningly, turned around and left without any other word. I slammed the door shut and Joker generously granted me that moment of satisfaction before he took over again and made me head down the stairs in a slow and controlled manner. He was the man who acted against his emotions, I was someone who acted them out. He was the counterpart I needed.
When I had joined the circle in the hall I started looking for the Volto. I wanted to get past that mask and see what kind of man had saved me. It was pure curiosity.
To my sorrow, I saw three of them and I couldn’t remember what kind of clothes my Volto had been wearing during the last evening. And he wouldn’t recognize me.
Joker took that thought and threw it away. He made me stand tall and let a smirk appear on my lips.
The women came. I took the glass and emptied it. It was a different taste. While waiting for any effect to show I noticed two men collapsing. Both were too far away than to recognize any details. The men were carried off by the women and at the same time when they left the circle, a bunch of other men left the line to follow them. Suddenly, I felt disgusted. Even worse, disgusted to the point I had to gag, which only reminded me of the events of that night in a more physical way. Images of the laughing masks flashed through my mind and Joker desperately tried to catch hold of me.
And then, I felt it.
It made me stand still and savour it.
I had never felt such a kind of warmth before.
Immediately, the images and feelings were gone and that one feeling filled my entire body, from toes to the tiniest neuron in my brain.
Happiness. Liquid sextasy.
The world was okay and I was okay. Something inside me felt like hugging the man to my left but I kept myself from doing that, swearing that I wouldn’t touch anything here but the Volto.
Yes, the Volto. I felt my dick growing.
Happiness.
The woman in front of me smiled seductively. From the corner of my eyes I could see the men walking off with the girls; not all of them but most. The few who left their women behind met to leave the hall together. When I realized that only I and the woman were left I turned around to follow the men, leaving the woman behind.
I went along the aisle with hundreds of doors leading to other rooms; some of them open and some of them closed, some of them with signs on them and some others painted in black.
Whenever I had the chance I peeked into the rooms with the open doors and always, I saw men fucking women, women fucking men, men fucking men, women fucking women, women torturing men, men torturing women, men torturing men and women torturing women.
Live and let live.
With a nasty hard-on between my legs I headed for the end of the aisle where glass doors lead to the balcony. I went outside and to the balustrade. Looking down, I saw some individuals heading for the nearby forest.
The night was cold and fresh but not too cold to catch a cold. All that effort for someone who eluded me finally. Certainly, he was there, but I had made sure to come as elusively as possible as well. There had been three Voltos.
Staring into the night at the spot where the forest and the blackness were melting into one single black hole, I felt disappointment welling up inside. Until now, I had not dared to admit to myself that I was just a coward. If I had been courageous enough to wear the same mask again he would have recognized me, but I wasn’t sure whether I still wanted that at all. In a mix of bitterness and frustration I unzipped my pants, took out my hard-on and pushed it between the columns of the balustrade. Whatever had made me do it, I immediately became aware of its potential and thrust forward.
Surely, I was the only one in this damp and raging hell who chose to fuck the castle itself.
Just when I was about to decide whether to end this stupidity or shamelessly continue fucking the columns I sensed something behind me. I froze and waited for half a minute before I turned around.
A man, dressed in black, his arms hidden by a large black cape, black hair and a simple, black Volto mask looked at me. The sting in my stomach told me that it was the one I had been looking for.
We stared at each other in silence. It was a creepy sight, the frozen face. Not even his eyes moved. Whoever he was under that cape, he must have left no stone unturned to find me and that told me that he must have had valuable contacts inside that castle.
All of a sudden, he started to move and approached me. I was about to take a step back but my ass was pressed against the cold stone already. Nervously, I licked my lips and wished I could go through that stone and just drop from the balcony.
His hands appeared out of nowhere and I felt something cold on my neck. When he closed it I realized that it was an ordinary dog collar. Looking down, I also discovered the leash and just when I looked up again he turned around and pulled on it so that I stumbled and almost fell.
My mind was blank. Speechless with shame, I followed him, catching everyone’s eyes we passed on the way. And that which I had feared would happen did happen, so I hurried to store my dick away again but another tug at the leash kept me from it and I stumbled on, collared and with my dick bouncing up and down in front of me.
I should have turned crazy from embarrassment but strangely enough, it wasn’t just embarrassment. Or at least my dick told me so by not backing down at all.
It was the mask. Hidden behind it, I could be who I just was; I could do whatever I just pleased, I could behave the way I liked to and no one would ever judge me. Not that I gave a damn about other idiots’ judgements but after all, I was human and couldn’t defy the sweet taste of compliments or the bitter taste of criticism at all.
Behind that mask, I could transcend Jack and Joker. I could be anyone, no need to explain myself, no need to be considerate, no need to be ashamed of anything.
As he kept dragging me through half the castle I worked on internalising that mantra.
You are free. You can do what you please. No consequences.
No consequences.
No consequences.
Smirking, I stopped abruptly and pulled on the leash so that the Volto stumbled.
You are free.
Black flew through the air and he stared at me wide-eyed.
You can do what you please.
The next moment, my throat was squeezed so passionately that I had to cough, had I just been able to. No air would flow in nor out.
No consequences.
Small slits stared daggers at me. I frowned, feeling familiar feelings welling up inside but then he closed his eyes. To hammer home the message, he squeezed even more fiercely for a second and then let go. Before I could recover he pulled on the leash again and I stumbled along, coughing and wheezing.
I was confused. I wasn’t sure whether it was due to the fact that I had just accepted that without any comment or due to something unknown raising its mutilated head in a dark corner of my soul. A long time ago, I had locked that away. Unbridled, almost irrepressible. Tenacious. It had survived and only waited for the moment to be released again, then, when it was safe.
You are free. You can do what you please. No consequences.
I understood the liberating effect of that mask now and why we had to wear it.
Become the one you are.
It stripped me bare of social conventions, self-doubt, awkwardness, inferiority complexes...and even fear. A powerful thing. Just a layer of paint and plastic.
Free.
I closed my eyes and staggered along, indulging in this insight and the feeling it caused. This was who I really was, it felt right and it felt good. No need to smile, no need to cry, just me, disappearing, merging in the wideness of this world. An oceanic grin spread on my face while I enjoyed that moment of bliss.
Free.
The Volto opened a black door, entered and pulled me in as well.
The walls were painted black and in the middle, there was a small fountain, offering a soothing string of sounds. Blue lights were accenting the water.
When I looked around I noticed that the sound wasn’t just coming from this fountain but that strings of water were continuously streaming down the walls as well. It was fascinating. Everything there was fascinating. To my astonishment, I could marvel at the world...again. I had lost that ability a long time ago but now, it felt so natural to see wonders in that room.
The Volto turned around and faced me. After a second of evaluating our position, so it seemed, he lifted a hand.
Warm, gentle fingers lay down on my cheek, partly on my face, partly on the mask. Fear rose in me and I held my breath. They were resting on my skin, affirmatively, encouragingly. I pressed my lips together and was about to turn my head away when his other hand gently pressed against the back of my head, telling me to refrain from doing so.
A finger touched my lips. Black, lifeless lips.
Black lips so full of life that they couldn’t bear it at all.
Free.
It traced along my lower lip, exploring it, the peaks and troughs. The magic of this moment let me stand still, my body and my mind unable to escape that charm. You can do what you please.
Remembering that, I lifted my hand and put it on the Volto’s. It came as a surprise, I could tell by his reaction. My reaction had spurred him; his fingers left my head and moved to the front where they started unbuttoning my shirt. I looked down, simply because I couldn’t believe it.
The bleeding and suffering creature, mutilated by denial, roared inside me. Denied any food, and light and any attention, it had retreated to a safe place where I couldn’t reach it anymore, yet, where I couldn’t control it anymore either. The ties wouldn’t hold it back any longer.
One button was opened, two were opened. Panic seized me and at the same time, I tried to calm down, telling myself that I could do what I pleased without needing to fear any consequences. Projecting my fear into the mask, I managed to free myself from those unhealthy feelings and followed his touch as he proceeded with freeing me.
When his hand touched my bare skin my muscles twitched, not familiar with being touched by someone else than me. It would have been embarrassing, had I needed to feel anything right now. But there was the mask, absorbing all negative emotions.
Fingers moved up my ribcage, slowly, feeling the little humps and valleys unfolding under their touch, up to my chest where they chose to rest on my hard nipple for a second before they started playing around with it, rubbing it gently, pinching it, caressing it.
Like a statue, I was standing there, frozen in time, space and freedom. I allowed him to touch me. How could I?
I was free.
Like a ghost, his fingers touched my skin, wandering across my back, up to my shoulder blades and down again, some of them moving past the waistband, teasingly rubbing my tailbone. I was shocked and mesmerized at the same time and maybe that mix was the most arousing thunderstorm of emotions I had ever experienced.
The wounds started to heal and the blood dried. It left that cold and dark place in the back of my mind and stepped into the light to look at the world. How it had changed. When I had locked it away the world had been different, cravings had been different, needs had been different. And now, woken by someone I didn’t even know, it chose to enter that stage again and claim it.
My jacket and my shirt fell to the floor; chilling air served to harden my nipples even more. Undressed, but not fully, I started to feel doubt rising again but it was sent to the abyss of eternal freedom again when his fingers brushed over my lips and let me forget any shame.
He took the leash again and pulled me to a corner of that room where another smaller room was opening up. I hadn’t noticed that one at all due to the dim light, but now I could see it clearly.
Candles illuminated a black painted chair. At first sight, it looked pretty normal, but it was different though: The backrest was curved and at the end of it there was a huge clasp. In the middle of the backrest, at the backside of it, there was a board with two more, yet smaller cuffs.
While I tried to think of a pose which would fit that seat I was turned around and the next moment, I found myself sitting on the chair. He made me lean back by pushing against my chest and so I did, still wearing my mask. It was the time I got aware of not having hidden my erection yet again, so I reached down to pull my pants over it but my arms were moved behind my back, the cuffs clicked and I found myself in that uncomfortable pose I had tried to think of before.
He pressed against my collarbone and I submitted to the pressure. He closed the collar around my neck and with that, I was rendered immobile. Panic made my cheeks burn and I attempted to rise but I couldn’t. I could lift my ass, but that was all. Blinded by chaotic feelings of fear, despair and pleasure I started breathing heavily until he pressed his hand against my mouth.
With wide eyes I watched him savouring that sight. My dick twitched.
Panic became pleasure and fear became trust.
Free.
When he removed his hand I sucked in the air; it was cold and damp from the water around. He stood there in silence and looked at me until I became aware of my delicate pose as well. My chest bared, my throat exposed to him, my hands out of reach and my dick inviting him to do more of that shit.
I gave a sound of pleased discomfort and shifted, my back aching already. No doubt he must have enjoyed that as much as I did. But he turned around and left.
When I was about to say something I stopped before pronouncing the first syllable, getting aware of the danger of revealing myself by speaking. So I had to watch him going away in silence, tempted to say something and held back by my pride. Or was it fear.
The backrest still felt cold against my back and only worsened the pain. Slowly but surely, I was facing difficulties getting enough oxygen into my lungs to keep me of sound mind. The iron of the collar was mercilessly pressing against my windpipe and when I tried to take some pressure off my back I was paying for that with a lack of air.
Gasping, I felt panic taking over again; however, this time, it was different. A kind of despair, a kind of craving despair paired with hopelessness and hope at the same time. They were taking turns, I was hoping that he’d return soon and then again, I knew that he wouldn’t just untie me yet.
Despite the cold I started sweating. Breathing noisily, despair surfacing in my breaths, I moved my hands, trying to free myself from the cuffs but that only served to tear my skin and make me bleed. At that moment, he returned. A strange scent baffled me and when I found out which kind of associations it caused it was too late already. A disinfectant was spread around my nipple with a cloth and before I could protest at that he forcefully pushed the needle through my nipple.
The cry got stuck in my throat. A piercing pain made me arch up into the air, almost dislocating my shoulder. Nothing I had expected. But it wasn’t over yet.
He pulled out the needle and replaced it by a small ring. I was concentrating hard on not screaming and I pressed my teeth together to keep me from cursing him. The pain didn’t fade at all. It was an uncomfortable kind of pain, sharp and pulsating.
And then, it got out of control.
When he closed his fingers around my hard-on I moaned. The creature had found its way to my mouth finally and once unleashed, it didn’t surrender again.
One word and he would have stopped.
And no word left me. It took over and silenced me.
The pain now paired up with the pleasure and I could let go, allowing myself to trust him.
His grip tightened and I contracted my muscles, making my dick twitch and pumping even more blood into it. This was ridiculous, this was unreasonable and absurd. But I wore a mask, hiding me, hiding my pleasure, hiding my reason and hiding my pride and nothing of that would ever be touched by what was happening when I was wearing this mask.
His thumb was caressing the glans and I bit down on my lip to keep me from articulating my pleasure.
All of a sudden, cold air lay down on my dick again when his fingers left and I opened my eyes in greed. Just barely two hours and I was at the mercy of that stranger. It must have been the drink. Usually, I had difficulties letting my hair down and showing this side publicly but I blamed it on the drink and the mask.
Another sensation which I had never felt before demanded my attention. Apparently, he was winding a string around my dick, stanching the blood flow. I closed my eyes and abandoned myself to the Volto again. His fingers left me alone again and I savoured the thrilling feelings my lower region gave me.
Yet, when nothing happened I opened my eyes again. He had waited for that moment.
The whip hit me hard across my chest and I couldn’t suppress that scream at all. Blind with pain, I gritted my teeth and pulled on the ties again, to no avail. When I was still busy with digesting that first strike another lash hit me on my thigh. Hissing, I lifted my leg but it was no good; the next lashes went down on my abdomen and left me screaming. He didn’t hold back but he knew how to wield it; the chosen spots showed me that he did.
Another lash and I struggled for breath, the pain messing with my central nervous system and keeping me from inhaling. Tensing up didn’t help the pain at all, but I couldn’t do anything against it, it just happened. Then I started trembling, still unable to control my breathing. If I hadn’t been tied to that chair I was sure I’d have toppled over backwards now. My muscles ran amok and tensed up randomly, giving me the uneasy feeling of losing total control.
I was free.
Gently, he touched my cheek and I bobbed my head, unable to make any well coordinated moves right now. The contrast of the harshness of the pain and his gentleness was killing me. I was desperately trying to sort out my feelings, focusing on the pain and then again on him caressing me. To top it all, my erection hadn’t calmed at all. It was still as hard as before, if not even harder due to the string wound around it.
He understood that I needed some time to figure things out and he spent the next minutes standing behind me and holding my face.
Slowly, the first impact of the pain dwindled and I could see clearly again. The air was cold but I was sweating. The fact that I was still desperately trying to catch my breath must have unsettled him, somewhat, at least, because he opened the collar. The muscles of my neck ached terribly, but I had to move. I sat up and bent my head, exhaling loudly at feeling my muscles relaxing already.
At this moment, my greatest wish was to bend my back as well but he didn’t grant me that; my arms were kept tied to the board behind me. Silently, he appeared in front of me again. Mixed feelings claimed my mind and I pushed half of them away since they were pointless.
I could do what I pleased.
And so could he.
He bent down and finally took my shoes, socks and pants. I let it happen. His eyes rested on my pubic area for a moment until he turned around and gone was he again. Defiantly, I pressed my teeth together and prepared myself for a long wait again.
I spent that time alone trying to relax and preparing myself for the next idea of his.
A few minutes later, he returned, dragging blackness and pleasure along. I was curious about the reason for his absence but he didn’t hesitate to show me. With a disposable razor, he started shaving my pubes. I couldn’t believe it. The way he did it told me that he knew how to handle that thing but I was too perplexed than to carry on with these thoughts and implications.
Brown strands of hair fell on the floor until my pubes were gone.
Never in my life I had thought of shaving them so the sight of this area being as smooth and hairless as a newborn unsettled me a little.
What unsettled me even more then was him continuing with my legs. I swallowed the words I wanted to say because I still was sure that he had no idea who I was. I had consented to the rules by putting on the mask, and not knowing where we were heading for just turned me on. Yet, having a man shaving my legs wasn’t exactly what I took for something arousing.
Steps.
A tall man, dressed in black, wearing a simple, black Bauta mask appeared in the small room. He carried two glasses. The Volto hastily got up, stepped aside and turned around to face the visitor, exposing me.
The shame made me blush; the Bauta knew who was behind that checkerboard mask; I had talked to him before. I didn’t want him to see me like that; tied to a chair, whip marks all over my body, shaved like a pussy and a dick still begging for more. I turned my head to the side and lifted a leg to cover my rebelling thing, somehow. The Volto noticed and with a quick move made his cape fall on my crotch and cover it.
A good master had to tend to the needs of...
What?
“Please join us for the ritual in the seed chamber when you are done. We will be waiting for you,” the Bauta said. He made a step towards us, placed the glasses on the floor and then left. Wordlessly, the Volto knelt down to continue shaving my legs and I started to feel fear rising again. He ignored my growing nervousness and made sure he reached every single hair.
Which chamber? I wasn’t in the mood for some gangbang again. Panic rose from my subconscious, showing me the Zanni and the Bauta and I tore at the ties.
Blood seeped from knee. My agitation had made me twitchy and he had cut me. He kept ignoring me.
When he was done he put the razor aside, took one of the glasses and approached me. Just when I thought that never on earth I would swallow that content he pressed his fingers against my cheeks and teeth so fiercely that I had to open my mouth.
The liquid was poured down my throat and I reached the next level of submission. Despair and devotion paired up and made me compliant. He would take care of me.
The liquid had a bitter taste but I swallowed all of it without any protest. I wouldn’t do that for anyone else.
He put down the glass, spread my legs, knelt down between them and made his cape cover his face and my dick. I saw him moving under the black fabric but I couldn’t tell what he was doing.
Only when I felt his lips closing around the tip of my dick I knew that he had taken off his mask. Weirdness, awkwardness and a stinging pleasure exploded in my crotch. I cocked my head and opened my mouth in a silent moan.
I could do anything, wearing that mask, and anything could be done to me when I was wearing that mask.
I twitched when he took me in fully, caressing the underside of my hard on with his tongue. While he was keeping my mind busy with that he removed the string from my dick. Since I couldn’t see much anyway I closed my eyes and immediately, images of him sucking me off passed my eyes.
He, who was darkness.
He was gently moving up and down, sucking me off by every trick in the book, using his hand as well to intensify the stimulation. I felt that I couldn’t make a stand against his teasing for long. Warm, slick bliss spread under the black fabric. I couldn’t hold back. The last time I had jerked off had been months ago and I was so close to the release that I couldn’t keep silence anymore.
My moans filled the dark chamber and he reacted to them, cupping my balls and gently squeezing them.
That was more than I could take. The single word I hissed lay down on us like a warm blanket, connecting us. I came, tensing up and shaking in pure bliss. He swallowed all of it.
I had never emptied my urethra in a more pleasurable way and it rose a vile smile from me. Drunken with bliss, I relaxed my muscles and exhaled with a last moan.
The cape disappeared behind him and I saw the Volto again. A vacant expression. Now I understood. Whatever he was feeling, the mask would take it.
Free.
My arms were released; they had gone numb. There was no time for mercy; the Volto pulled on the leash and I got up, or at least I tried to in a pathetically clumsy manner.
At a very smart pace, he left the room, dragging me along behind. I could barely walk, my muscles ached from the strain and I would have needed some minutes to recover from the best orgasm I had ever had but he didn’t allow me to. Still dazed, I couldn’t think straight and just did my best not to stumble and impede his plan, wherever we were going.
We passed doors, stairs, aisles until we headed down some winding stairs ourselves. The stones were so cold that it hurt since I was walking barefooted. Not to mention stark naked, except for the mask. An archway came into sight and we stopped. Expectantly, I searched for his eyes to tell what he was up, to but it was too dark to see any details; the few torches barely illuminated the stairs. He stepped behind me and took my arms to tie them up behind my back with a simple cable tie. Everything turned black when he blindfolded me.
I wasn’t sure whether I could take that. No doubt, I had proven to him that I trusted him, but that was a little too extreme for my taste and for that stage yet because now I couldn’t talk, see or do anything on my own anymore.
What exactly was that ritual about? If the Bauta had come himself to invite us then shit was on the way. My thoughts found an abrupt end when I was pushed into the room behind the archway.
Full of fear and insecure, I stood there, waiting for something to happen.
Whispers and murmuring. I felt so embarrassed, by now fearing that they would recognize me despite my mask and that attempt of making my skin look like it had been painted white. Maybe I should have spilled more ink on my body but it was too late anyway. While I was still debating on whether they finally knew who I was or not, firm hands accompanied me to a low platform.
Someone kicked the inner side of my knee joint and drove me to my knees. Then I was pushed forward and I gasped when a metallic bar collided with my thighs. My head was pushed down and the carabiner of the leash clicked. I didn’t need to see anything to imagine what this pose looked like. With my ass in the air and my head in the dirt, immobile, I was close to freaking out. Almost choking from panic, I tried to get rid of the cable tie but it was no use; it only made my wrists bleed again.
He wouldn’t betray me.
The blindfold was removed. From down there, I saw men dressed in black, all wearing the same black Bauta masks. The man standing right in front of me wore a black Volto mask. A Bauta approached him now and gave him a ring which the Volto put on his left ring finger. A second ring was handed over and the Volto put it on my right ring finger. Watching and experiencing that somehow made me calm down a little. I wasn’t the center of attention and I wasn’t as outlawed as I had thought. I was under his protection.
The floor was cold and my knees started to ache already from kneeling on the stones but I had to take it, I had no choice.
The Volto’s eyes met mine. I saw determination, mercilessness and passion. I was an eagle who was about to get his wings cut by an owner who loved his pet so much that he would never allow him to fly away again. That scared me. But it also flattered me. More than it scared me. Sometimes, it annoyed me how easily I could be figured out but if someone knew how to push my buttons I’d just enjoy the show.
Then I just realized how humiliating it was to look up at him, smelling the scent of the stones under me at boot level. I was thankful that he had sucked me off before, otherwise they’d have witnessed my dick rising again.
One moment later all whispering and murmuring went silent. No sound was heard except the steps of a man coming closer. I tried to turn my head as much as I could to catch a glimpse of what was happening at my rear end. Another black dressed man had entered the room. He was carrying a long, thin stick. If that guy was about to beat me again I’d take that with ease, so I thought. He passed me and stopped in front of the Volto. When he lifted the stick I saw the end of it.
The tip of it was glowing in an unhealthy orangy red. My eyes went wide when I realized what this all was going to be about.
“No...”
I couldn’t hold back and breathlessly whispered that word into the air.
Heat spread on my cheeks and within a few seconds, I was dripping with sweat.
“No no no no no”
Like a chant, the words left me, monotonously, out of my mind.
The man turned around and disappeared behind me. With begging eyes full of panic I pleaded for mercy but the Volto just watched me. I couldn’t tell whether he was drawing pleasure from my despair or whether he was feeling sympathy with me.
When the branding iron burned my skin I screamed until my lungs collapsed. The pain was so fierce and excruciating that it left no room for any other thoughts. Every cell of my body was busy with living through this and not giving up. In that haze of searing pain, hands reached for me and held my face. Another sensation added and I was unable to cope with this world any longer. I gave up and in. Wailing with pain, I surrendered myself to the situation and patiently waited for someone to untie me.
The Volto got up. He joined the other man behind me and shortly after that, a stream of strange sounds filled the room. Eventually, dazed with pain, I realized that he was jacking off and it didn’t take long until I heard the releasing moan.
I hissed when he touched the branded spot, rubbing his semen into my flesh. As much as it hurt and challenged my very reason, it pleased me. Never had I felt such thorough pain. No thoughts, no feelings, no memories, just honest, existence-threatening pain. Wicked awesomeness.
I was released from my bonds and sank to the floor, sweating and breathing hard. Someone took care of the mark, patching me up, but it didn’t make the pain go away.
The Volto took me on his arms and carried me away. The fabric of his clothes felt soft and smelled of lemon grass. He coated me with darkness and warmth. My cheek felt numb from the coldness of the floor but compared to the other feelings, that was just a minor problem.
Gently, I was put down on cushions. In front of me, the Volto undressed, shed his shell. A tall body with fine muscles wound itself in the dim light, like a snake, hypnotised by the moves of a courageous man. He bared all and it was a body you could show off with.
Only the mask remained in place. With tired eyes, I followed every of his moves, watching him folding his clothes, lighting candles and finally coming closer.
I would do whatever he told me to do; I was in a state of post-desperate willingness. If he told me to eat his shit I would have done that. Whatever it was...I had fallen into a strange trance.
But he didn’t demand any of that from me. He lay down and pulled me closer so that my head was resting on his chest.
I just took what he gave me.
Nothing of this all ever would have happened if I had gone unmasked.
For the first time, after I had fallen into that pool and had undergone that transformation into that white creature I had felt very self-confident, knowing that no one thought of Jack anymore when he saw me. I had the chance to develop a new identity, free to behave in any and every way and as time went by, some character traits settled and became a fixed part of my new identity and other traits got lost. Wherever I went, they labeled me as crazy. I had been studying many books and observed many men and based on that wisdom I had started to behave like them.
A whiff of the histrionic personality, a little melancholy, a good deal of schizophrenia and narcissism. The neurotic side hadn't been as much fun so I ditched it, yet I kept the positive aspects of it and made use of them when I was thinking up plans. In the end, I was so honest as to admit that in the course of time, my dissocial disorder had undergone some drastic change and turned into psychopathy. Granted, Jack had had some grave mental problems and the bleached version of Jack had adopted those, yet I had read up about these things and at least had gotten aware of them. During that process, I had realized that sanity could be learned and that the same held true for insanity.
As I was an outlaw then, not needing to pay any attention to anyone, I could freely develop a personality which I could have fun with and so I became what I was now.
And though, what I was right now was something else. Behind that mask, I didn't need to keep up that personality. I had seldom made the experience of dropping it because usually, I felt at home in it and even fed it with paranoid lines of thoughts. I only dropped it when I felt totally safe and that was a rare occasion.
His fingers were combing through my hair, playing with it.
Harley had often been doing that as well. Everyone thought she had left me for being such a crazy bastard when in fact, I had left her. I couldn't stand her being so pathetically dependent. Our personalities didn't match since I enjoyed taking advantage of people and she enjoyed being taken advantage of. The sane part of myself couldn't watch her falling deeper and deeper so I had left. I would have needed someone as domineering as I was, someone who would shout and yell at me and someone who wasn't afraid of telling me that this or that was a shitty idea. Not someone who idolised and glorified me. The part of my character which had deliberately gone mad needed someone like that and found that amusing, but I was more than that and my true self needed an equal partner.
Since I had left her I hadn't engaged in closer human contact at all because I was fed up with relationships. Of course, part of me craved attention but I twisted it around and deepened my histrionic side. After all, that was a healthy reaction to deal with that disappointment. The attention I received then went straight to the hungering sane self while on the outside, I displayed that pathological behaviour. I had been living on negative attention every since but now, I could let myself enjoy that positive attention. He stopped and let his fingers rest on my head. I wondered what he was thinking about right now.
“Is that really necessary?“
“We have been watching him for a long time and we think it necessary. We have to break him before this can develop,“ the black Bauta calmly stated.
“What do you mean by breaking?“
“It is not exactly breaking, because the Joker's will cannot be broken, only stretched. Trust us to take appropriate measures.“
“I'm not sure I can agree to that.“
“You are free to leave any time you please, Mr. Wayne.“
The Volto replied nothing to that. He felt the cushions giving way as he shifted in doubt.
“Trust us and he will trust you.“
“What will happen?“
“Some men agreed on preparing him for you.“
“What...preparing him for me?“
The Volto's voice sounded irritated.
“You can't make an omelette without breaking eggs.“
The Volto closed his eyes at hearing that. Nothing good had ever come from this sentence. He was wondering by now why he had acceded to this at all.
“Don't rush things. Something like this takes time. Time, will and endurance.“
The Volto took a deep breath and got up.
“So, are you in on it, Mister Wayne?“
“Yes. But I want to watch.“
The Bauta lifted an eyebrow.
“If you stay in the background you can do so.“
“I will.“
His fingers twitched and I reached for them to hold them in my hand. I was so tired and pain-ridden that this simple move almost sent me over the edge, losing consciousness. Such a small mark and such drama. Behind that mask, I really was a wuss, feeling pain doubly as much as I felt when I wore my usual white one.
“Mr. Wayne, what did you think, butting in like that?!“ another black Bauta yelled at the Volto.
Three of them were standing behind the sitting one.
“Be quiet!“ the sitting one said, “Mr. Wayne, what happened?”
“This was beyond the pale. You said nothing about-”
“I did. I said we have to break him and it is what we did.”
“But not like that!”
“What did you expect, Mr. Wayne?”
He really didn't know what he had expected. But he knew that this wasn't what he had expected.
“I thought...”
“Trust us. He is on the balcony now. You might want to pick him up.”
End of discussion. The Volto pressed his teeth together and stared at them in silent protest.
“Mr. Sea will see you to the balcony.”
One of them suddenly came to life and escorted me out of the room. The Volto followed him to the balcony. The Bauta stopped at the glass doors and left him.
It was dark and only some torches lit the place outside. A tall, black dressed man was standing by the balustrade, alone and forlorn. He felt a sting in his heart. How come he felt so much passion for him...or was it just compassion.
The Volto’s grip tightened and I tried to lift my head to look at him but gave it up. Whatever he was going through, it couldn't have been worse than my misery. I got back to savouring that rare feeling of closeness, glad that he didn’t interrupt me. Obviously, he was nervous too and maybe even thinking about leaving but I wouldn’t let him. I’d make myself feel so heavy that he wouldn’t be able to get up at all.
And while trying to make myself weigh some more pounds I finally fell asleep.

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The Circle