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Pet	By : KageSora Category: +S through Z > Tales of Symphonia Views: 1025 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Tales of Symphonia: Dawn of the New World nor the characters or places associated with it. I make no profit from this work.

Chapter List
- 1-Pet
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A/N: I have just… Been in a rather dark mood lately. Also a perverted mood. These two are a dangerous combination for me. So, then I wanted to write fic, and this is what I ended up writing. …I really gotta write some happier Aster smut.
Also, this is sort of based off my personal headcanon that Aster’s parents really didn’t give a shit about him. In my headcanon, they sold him off. And his dad was a drunk. And sometimes… He’d get a little too drunk, and things would happen… Also, the director is a pervert. Just because. But that’s not always part of my headcanon. I have more than one headcanon. >_>

Aster watched the older man warily. He knew his request was bold, very bold. But over the past four years since he arrived at Sybak, he’d grown fond of the half-elves he worked with—and a certain red-haired researcher in particular. For the most part they still distrusted him, but they were much nicer to him than they had been when he had arrived. Richter especially had warmed up to him, which Aster thought was fortunate since they not only worked together but lived together. Still, the redhead was reluctant to show affection, but Aster knew Richter was at least mildly fond of him. He wouldn’t stick up for him otherwise.

Aster had seen how the half-elves were treated, and he really couldn’t stand it anymore. He hated it—especially when Richter was hurt because he couldn’t fight back if any of the humans started trouble. He felt that he had to try to do something about it. This was the reason he was currently standing in the Director’s office. A week prior he’d hesitantly asked the Director to grant the half-elves a little bit better treatment. He knew they couldn’t just be allowed to go free, or be treated the same as humans—it would simply never happen. However, he’d hoped that he could convince the Director to lessen their abuse at least a little bit. It was a cause he felt very strongly about, he’d do anything to make their lives better.

He hesitantly approached the Director when the older man beckoned him forwards; something about the look in the man’s eyes put him on edge. He had a bad feeling about this…

“Well, Aster, I’ve considered your request. I believe we may be able to work out some sort of… Exchange.” The Director leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his desk and his chin on his folded hands as he surveyed the young teen before him. The kid was what, fourteen now? Not that it mattered much, he thought. Not with what he’d heard from the boy’s father… He smirked as he recalled that little conversation.

“I’ve spoken with your father…”

Aster flinched at the mention of his father. He usually preferred to forget that he’d had a family before he arrived at Sybak. Something about that smirk on the Director’s face, though, along with the mention of his dad and the tone of the older man’s voice made his stomach twist with unease.

“It was quite by accident, really. I was on business in Meltokio when I happened upon him. He was quite drunk, you know.”

Aster flinched again. He could just imagine the trouble his father had caused. The man was hopelessly addicted to getting drunk off his ass. And when he did… Aster barely suppressed a shudder.

The Director watched Aster, his smirk widening. “Well, when we met, he was more than happy to recount certain… Information.” He beckoned the boy closer, indicating he wanted Aster to stand beside him. He got to his feet as Aster approached.

Aster’s eyes widened as the Director reached out and gently placed three fingers beneath his chin, tilting his head up so their eyes met.

“He mentioned you were rather skilled with that little mouth of yours.”

Aster tensed, starting to pull back. He stopped, though, as he felt the Director’s fingers curl, digging into his chin as the other male’s eyes narrowed.

“I’ll see to it that the half-breeds get some better food, and I’ll make the other researchers back off a bit… I’ll even allow them to take some credit for their work. In exchange…” He pulled away, sitting down again. He simply gestured with his hand, indicating his desire.

Aster stared at the Director for a long moment, his mind racing. He swallowed hard, shuddering, taking a step back. He knew nobody would believe him if he tried to say anything about this. He couldn’t do this, he just couldn’t. He took another step back,

The Director laughed quietly, and said, “I see you need a little more enticing… Let’s see… Ah, you’re rather fond of that half-breed you room with, aren’t you? It would be such a shame if, say, he were to be found in possession of some ‘missing’ research materials, wouldn’t it? Why, as a half-breed he’d be executed with no questions asked. You wouldn’t want that to happen, now would you?”

Several minutes went by in silence as Aster tried to find a way around this, dearly wishing he’d never asked the Director anything at all. But for all his brilliance, the boy couldn’t come up with any way to keep Richter safe. He’d dug this hole, and how he’d dragged Richter down into it. It was up to him to get them back out. He shuddered, taking a few steps forwards and dropping to his knees between the Director’s legs.

Taking a shaky breath, he carefully undid the older man’s pants, and bit back a whimper as he removed the other from the confines of his undergarments.

Richter looked up at the sound of the door opening. He knew it was Aster, though he wondered where the boy had been. He frowned, worried, when Aster didn’t look at him and instead just hurried into the bathroom. Richter supposed that Aster must be feeling unwell, and waited for the other to emerge.

Aster felt sick. He leaned over the sink, grasping it tightly, shaking. It was all he could do to keep from throwing up, really. He quickly splashed some cold water onto his face, then grabbed his toothbrush. He brushed vigorously until his gums bled pretty badly, shaking and trying not to cry. At least it’s over..

When Aster had come out again, he’d simply agreed when Richter had asked him if he was feeling unwell, and went to sleep as quickly as he could. He hoped he wouldn’t dream.

Aster shudders as he feels fingers curling in his hair, squeezing his eyes shut tighter as he drags his tongue across the shaft in his mouth, pulling back and sucking on the head, teasing the slit with the tip of his tongue. He hears a low, rough moan from somewhere above him but he doesn’t focus on that—he focuses on controlling his gag reflex as he pushes forwards, shuddering as he feels his throat stretching around the hardened mass of flesh sliding deeper and deeper inside. He can feel tears leaking from his eyes, but he doesn’t stop, rubbing his tongue against what he can, bringing one hand up to tease the older man’s balls. He pulls back as he feels himself choking, in need of air, breathing heavily through his nose but it’s not enough.

He pulls his mouth back, panting, eyes opening slightly. A string of saliva connects his lower lip to the twitching organ of the Director, and he shuts his eyes again as he hears a low growl of disapproval, feeling the fingers in his hair tighten their grip slightly. He slips his lips over the head again, sucking harder, brining his other hand up to massage the hot, hard shaft. He can feel the fingers tightening in his hair again, and takes a deep breath as he swallows the stiff member once again. He grazes the sensitive skin with his teeth as he does so, and chokes as a splash of hot liquid shoots down his throat. He gags, a little bit of the substance seeping into his mouth, but he swallows hard, choking it down.

He feels the length slide from his mouth and he gags again, shuddering, feeling something drip down his chin. He feels his face yanked up, and opens his eyes—

—to find himself on his back in his bed, his sheets wrapped around him from twisting and turning in his sleep. He carefully untangled himself from his sheets before settling back down again, once more praying for a dreamless sleep.

Aster had thought it would be a one-time deal. But a week later he was on his knees in the Director’s office again, swallowing the load in his mouth. The third week wasn’t any better. By fourth he’d gotten used to the taste of the older man’s release, though he didn’t like it. By the sixth he was used to the feeling of the other buried in his throat. By the tenth he no longer cried.

The half-elves had noticed the improvement in their treatment, and Richter was suspicious. He kept asking Aster where he went during the hour he vanished each week, and all Aster would say was he was helping the Director with a project, that he’d been personally selected. When Richter bluntly asked if this has anything to do with the improvement in their treatment, Aster simply answered that the Director was very insistent on his help, and had agreed to a few of his own terms in exchange. He refused to elaborate on what this project was, however, and Richter eventually backed off when Aster had become defensive.

But the redhead worried all the same. Aster had become very quiet over the past few weeks. Richter also notices that he always brushed his teeth when he came back, which confused the half-elf. Eventually, though, he stopped questioning it, deciding to respect Aster’s privacy. Eventually the boy was back to behaving like his usual self, though from time to time Richter thought he saw a strange look in the kid’s eyes, but it never lasted long enough to be sure. It wasn’t until a year after this had first started that he began to wonder again.

Aster felt a hand caressing his hair but didn’t flinch. He was used to the soft touches, the quiet murmurs telling him what a good job he was doing. This time, however, was different. He felt the Director withdraw from his mouth, and looked up questioningly.

“You’ve been such a good boy, I bought you a present. Stand up.”

Aster knew better than to resist whatever it was so he complied, but he really didn’t want to know what the Director’s idea of a present was. He watched the man warily as a small black box was produced, and held out to him. The teen carefully opened it, and stared at its contents.

“Put it on, pet.”

The voice had a hard edge to it, and Aster hastened to comply. He gingerly lifted the black collar from the box, mentally flinching as he saw the small silver tag engraved with his name. He found himself relieved that the engraving was on both sides, nobody would know who had given it to him. He didn’t want to, but under the hard stare of the Director he slowly put it around his neck, struggling to fasten it. He barely suppressed a shudder as the Director slipped around behind him, fingers brushing against his neck as the older man fastened it for him.

Aster felt arms wrap around him, found himself pulled against the Director’s body, and shuddered slightly as he felt the hot breath against his ear as the older whispered, “You’re mine, pet. And you always will be…” He shuddered as he felt the other’s hardness pressing against him for a moment before the Director returned to his seat, gesturing for Aster to continue.

He obeyed silently, startled a little when the older man pushed him down too quickly and he felt his throat straining slightly against the collar as the thick shaft was forced fully inside him. Choking slightly, he heard the Director murmur, “And see, pet? It’s the perfect size.” He felt a hand running along the skin, stroking this neck. The teen swallowed instinctively, shuddered at the feeling, and resigned himself to having to get used to this new sensation.

When Aster had returned to their room, Richter had immediately noticed the collar that the boy had been forbidden from removing anytime other than bathing and sleeping (and he’d been told exactly which hole to use when buckling it). He’d demanded to know why Aster was wearing it, but Aster had refused to tell him who it was from, only that it was a gift. But Richter was unnerved by the faint hesitation before the word “gift” had left the kid’s mouth, and by the almost imperceptible tremor that had run through his body. Try as he might, though, the half-elf had no success getting an answer out of the younger boy.

Aster dimly registered, as he wiped his mouth, how the Director mentioned that as good as his pet was, it was beginning to get a little boring. He tried not to think of it, but the next time he’d been summoned to the Director’s office he’d felt his old fear returning as he was ordered to strip. He’d been forced onto his hand and knees, thankful though for the pillow he was allowed to kneel on, and had bitten his lip as he’d felt the Director’s fingers (cold and slimy, covered as they were with some kind of lubricant) teasing his entrance. He was, however, grateful that he was getting some kind of preparation instead of just being taken violently.

It still hurt, though, when the large mass was pushed into him, and the Director didn’t give him much time to adjust before he began thrusting. All Aster could do was endure it, hating himself as his own body began to respond to the rough strokes on his own member and the pleasure he felt through the discomfort as the Director pushed against something inside him that he couldn’t help but writhe with pleasure each time it was hit. Still, he felt no lasting pleasure from the act once it was done, and when the Director had finally pulled out, he whimpered at the feel of the hot seed of the older man dripping down his legs.

He’d been ordered to sit up, and the Director had pressed fingers coated with Aster’s own release against the boy’s lips, quietly commanding him to clean them. Aster had no choice but to lick and suck his own fluid from the other’s fingers, face burning with shame at having climaxed from such an experience. But he was beyond tears now, and had suspected that this day would come for a long time.

Aster had been called once more to meet with the Director, and found the man in obvious distress. It was to be expected, though—after all, the joining of two worlds wasn’t something that most people could simply be unaffected by. But an interesting by-product was an easing up on the laws that restricted the half-elves. Aster knew that he could use that to finally escape this… Or so he’d thought, until the Director had turned on him, growling.

“You will continue to obey me, pet, or I will take care of that miserable half-breed personally. Is that clear?”

Aster had simply stared at the man, then lowered his head. He made sure his posture was submissive as he approached, murmuring, “Perfectly clear, Master.” And it was—but Aster knew what he’d need to do. His own safety he’d long since stopped caring about. He stopped a foot away from the Director, then raised his head, growling, “I’ll just have to make sure you can’t hurt anyone ever again!” and he lunged.

He caught the Director off guard, knocking the older man to the floor. His hands closed around the man’s neck, cutting off the shout of shock and pain, a crazed glint in his eyes. He was completely oblivious to everything except the weakening struggles of the Director until he found a pair of strong hands prying his own madness-strengthened grasp from the throat of the older man beneath him, feeling himself yanked off the Director.

He snarled, demanding to be let go as shocked yells rang out, someone calling for help another yelling to restrain him. Familiar strands of red hair fell into his vision and he faltered. He made a choked sound as he squirmed in the grip of the other, managing to look up at Richter’s shocked and horrified face.

“Aster… What the hell is wrong with you?!”

He no longer cared about keeping what he’d endured a secret—Richter was safe now, and he’d long ago had his pride broken. He snarled, “I was giving that bastard what he deserves! He raped me!”

A sharp intake of breath sounded in his ear, and he heard a shocked murmur run through the people who had been alerted by the sounds of the struggle. Aster tried to get at the Director again, growling, “You wanted to know where I’ve been going every week for the past two years, Richter?! I’ve been here, in this damn room, with him. I didn’t have a choice!” His voice broke as he finally confessed his secret, tears streaming down his cheeks for the first time in so long. “H-he… He would have h-had you k-killed i-if I didn’t…”

Richter stared down at the teen in his arms, barely comprehending what he’d said. But something clicked in his mind. His grip tightened on the boy instinctively, and he drew in a quick breath. “He made you… That’s why you… Those time you came back and went right to brush your teeth… Oh Goddess…” He shuddered, horrified, as he realized that Aster hadn’t done that after his disappearances for about half a year now. For a while, though, the teen had walked with a slight limp. Richter shuddered, berating himself for not putting the pieces together sooner.

Aster turned, buried his face in Richter’s shirt and sobbed. He no longer even cared about what happened to the Director, as long as he never had to be touched by that man again. He shuddered, his legs giving out from under him, and he slumped against Richter. He felt a pair of hands at the back of his neck, and gasped out, “Thank you…” as he felt the collar pulled off. He pressed closer to the half-elf, wanting nothing more than to just pretend none of this had happened for a little while. He knew that wasn’t going to be possible, but he still wished he could forget…
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