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oliversrarebooks · 2 days

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The Rare Bookseller Part 49: Alexander's Task

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tw: mind control, hypnotic induction, branding, possessiveness, drunkenness

September 1925

The walk home from the ballet had been somber, to say the least. Oliver had started off the night so excited, and he knew Alexander had, too, anticipating a lovely night out. But now Oliver was terrified, and his master was simmering in fury in a way that Oliver hadn't seen from him before.

"Not at you, Oliver," he said when pressed. "I'm not angry with you. You followed my instructions; you couldn't have done any better. No, it's my sire I'm furious at."

Oliver nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. "Is he actually going to drink from me, sir?"

Unsurprisingly, this made Alexander's fury deepen. He took a long time before answering. "My hands are tied. Certain arrangements have to be made."

"What does that mean, sir?"

"...Leave me. I'm in no state to -- we'll discuss it next evening."

And Oliver had no choice but to comply with his master's wishes, as the waves that usually drew him closer to Alexander were now pushing him away.

Alexander stormed off to his quarters the moment they arrived at home, and Oliver didn't dare follow. Instead, he did his best to comfort himself with a mug of warm milk and a supper of buttered bread. Afterwards, he retired to his own chambers early, curled up in his soft warm bed but unable to rest, flipping listlessly through books, unable to focus on any words and looking only at the illustration plates.

It was as if he could still feel the ancient vampire's unnatural grip on his body. He didn't want that vampire to visit, and despite all of his conditioning, he certainly didn't want him drinking his blood.

His blood was his master's alone -- and that thought certainly was the conditioning, stronger in his mind than any of his own convictions.

It was well past morning when he finally sank into a restless sleep, tossing and turning and waking up halfway from nightmares. By the time he fully awoke, it was already evening again, his room dark and foreboding, reminding him of his fears. Alexander's sire was arriving tomorrow evening.

He had to talk to his master. He had to know what to do, how to behave, to avoid being harmed. But when Oliver emerged from his room, flickering gas lamp in hand, his master was nowhere to be found. Oliver checked every corner of the library, the music room, the parlor, a dozen disorienting spare rooms filled with more books and storage crates and bits of random furniture. Either Alexander had left the manor or he was still confined to his room.

Even Oliver's need wasn't enough to overcome his fear of knocking on the door. One of the few rules of the manor was that Alexander's room was off-limits without permission, and the last thing he wanted was for his master to be angry at him when he so desperately needed his protection. All he could really do was wait, and worry, and take a long hot bath in the hopes that it would ease his worries, and inevitably end up worrying in the hot bath.

If only he didn't have to worry about any of this! If only he could simply be Alexander's thrall, spending his days in the library and providing his master with blood. He was meant to be loyal to Alexander, the perfect thrall, wasn't he? When he closed his eyes and imagined, he could almost hear the song calling to him.

His master needed his help, and Oliver wanted so badly to be helpful.

He toweled off from the shower, making sure to apply lotion to his face and neck, just as they'd done in the auction house. Back in his bedroom, he rifled through the wardrobe to look for something suitable, finally settling on a tasteful red frock. After all, if he couldn't solve his master's problems, he could at least try to cheer him up.

Suitably dressed, he had emerged from his bedroom and was gathering up the courage to go knock on Alexander's bedroom door when he heard a commotion in the foyer and rushed to see.

"Ugh, just drag me to the library and leave me to die," said Alexander, precariously wrapped around Miss Lily, who was dragging him into the manor with a long-suffering look on her face.

"I'll take you to the library, but I'm not going to leave you until you've done what you need to do," she said.

"Screw that. Screw all of it. Screw my goddamn sire and his goddamn rules. Sick and tired of him touching my thralls." It was obvious now that his master was drunk, as he grasped onto Miss Lily for dear life. "He was touching Oliver, my Oliver. He's gonna drink from my Oliver. Put his goddamn fangs in my thrall!"

Oliver's heart clenched at the way his master was talking about him. It was strange, to be wanted, to be possessed, but not at all unwelcome. It gave a strange sort of pleasure to Oliver that his master didn't want anyone else to drink from him.

"Welcome home, sir," said Oliver, emerging into the foyer, doing his best to look like a proper thrall. "Is there... um. Is there anything I can help with...?"

"Oh, now, isn't that just precious," Miss Lily cooed, while Alexander looked as though he were about to pass out.

"Look at him, Lily," he said with a tone of pleading. "He's so loyal, so goddamned perfect. I don't want to hurt him. How can I..."

Oliver's eyes widened. "How can you what, sir?"

"Don't you worry about it, dear," Miss Lily cooed at him, and Oliver could feel his mind soften. "Don't you worry about a thing. Why don't you go make yourself comfortable in the library? Your master will be joining you shortly after I give him a little pep talk."

"Yes, sir," he said. The calm he had managed to carve out for himself had evaporated. What was his master going to do? Was he simply referring to allowing his sire to feed on Oliver? He fussed with his dress -- a garment he still wasn't at all used to -- as he settled onto a couch and waited.

Perhaps ten minutes passed before Miss Lily arrived, carrying an old white tin. She was followed by Alexander, who looked forlorn as he sat down next to Oliver on the couch. Oliver could smell the alcohol on him, and his master wobbled slightly as he regarded Oliver.

"Can't you do it?" he said to Miss Lily in a tone that was nearly a whine.

"You know you have to be the one to do it."

"He won't know."

"He will and you know it."

"I helped you with Miriam."

"And I'll help you with Oliver, but you still need to be the one to do it."

"Do what, sirs?" said Oliver with growing fear. "What are you going to do?"

"You trust your master, don't you?" Miss Lily had settled in on the other side of him, and brushed back his hair to speak in his ear. "You want to be a good and obedient thrall for him, don't you, dear?"

"I trust my master," said Oliver automatically, Miss Lily's voice and her choice of words sinking him into a helpless daze. "I want to be obedient..."

His master leaned over and began to hum in his other ear, a song which washed over his mind and soothed away his fears. "You're my loyal and obedient thrall, aren't you? And you trust me."

"Yes, Master. Completely loyal and obedient."

"You love being obedient," Miss Lily coaxed. "Obedience is pleasure. You wish to serve."

With Miss Lily's voice and Alexander's song hypnotizing him so thoroughly, he almost felt like he was back in the soft leather chair in the auction house, his sleeping mind open and pliable and oh so very obedient. "I wish to serve," he said. "I -- I just want to help you, Master. I want to be your loyal and obedient thrall."

Alexander's hum was pleased, making Oliver feel so relaxed and so good. "And so you are, Oliver. You're just perfect. I couldn't be more delighted with you."

"Thank you, Master," said Oliver, floating in the bliss of praise.

"You're just so... you're too perfect. That's why I can't bear the thought of my sire drinking from you." His master was leaning his head on Oliver's shoulder.

"I understand, sir. My blood should only be for you."

"Only for me, yes, that's right," said Alexander fiercely. "Only for me."

"But you must obey Alexander's sire as well," said Miss Lily in his other ear. A tone of warning, but Oliver wasn't sure it was for him.

"...Yes," said Alexander after a long hesitation. "You must obey him, and allow him to drink your blood, even if... Just for now, Oliver, just for now. You can do that for me, can't you? You can obey him, because you are loyal to me."

"Yes, sir, I can obey."

"Obedience is pleasure," whispered Miss Lily. "You only desire to serve."

"I only desire to serve, sir."

"Lex, you need to --"

"I know," said Alexander, and his song changed subtly. Instead of inducing obedience, Oliver felt his mind being shifted, further entranced, his thoughts becoming foggy and far away. It was like falling asleep with his eyes wide open. "You're safe, Oliver. You're safe with me."

"Safe... Master..." he slurred, his head growing heavy and coming to rest on his master's shoulder.

Alexander was rubbing his back gently. "I need to do something now. It's important, and unavoidable. You are going to lose awareness as it happens, and when you wake, you will feel no pain."

"What..." He wanted to ask, but his mind was slipping under the waves of his master's song, the song that was now urging him into sleep.

"Shut your eyes, Oliver," said Miss Lily. "Become unaware of everything around you except for our voices. You won't feel a thing."

"Nothing but our voices and a deep, dreamless sleep," said Alexander. "Rest, now, Oliver. You're so obedient, so loyal, so good. You can rest. You can be still, so very still, as you sink into a place where you will feel no pain."

Oliver's vision blurred as his eyes began to close, leaning back against the couch as his master ran his hand through his hair. He was surrounded by song - obey, relax, go to sleep, feel no pain - and everything else was fading away until he was floating, floating in the deepest abyss of the ocean, where there was nothing but darkness and the rush of cool water and his Master's beautiful siren song.

He could obey. He could give himself over to his Master, body, mind, and soul. It was the easiest thing in the world.

Oliver wasn't sure how long he floated there in contented bliss. Time had lost all meaning, all of his senses dulled and drowsy. Finally, as if a hand was reaching down from the surface of the water, his Master spoke once more. "You can wake now, Oliver. You'll feel no pain and no distress as you wake."

His eyes opened, and he was back in the library, still feeling strangely disconnected from his body. His Master looked grim, but surely it wasn't because of him. He was a good thrall, and he had obeyed.

His shoulders felt cool, and it took him a moment to realize that his dress was gone, neatly folded up and sitting on a nearby table. His chest was bared, and there was a bandage just below his collarbone. His head fogged again, and he felt numb, almost as if he weren't allowed to perceive all of this.

"Don't worry about that, Oliver," said Alexander, grasping his chin and drawing his gaze up. "You were just perfect."

"Thank you, sir."

Alexander collapsed onto the couch beside him, as though he'd been through some great ordeal. "There, Lily, it's done. Now can you leave me to die a second time?"

Oliver couldn't help but reach out to him. "Sir, if there's anything I can do... any way I can serve you..."

"You've done everything you were supposed to do," said Miss Lily. "And no one's leaving you to die, Lex. You need to sleep it off. Oliver, you can put him to bed, can't you, dear?"

"Put him to bed, sir?"

"Yes, as you do each night, no doubt."

Oliver looked at Miss Lily, alarmed. "I'm -- I'm not allowed in the bedroom without permission, sir --"

Miss Lily raised an eyebrow. "Really, Lex?"

"I don't need a thrall warming my bed. Hot water bottles and steam heat suffice," said Alexander with a groan. "And I didn't want to get attached."

"...And how is that working out for you?"

Alexander groaned again. "My head is killing me, Lil, spare me the lecture."

"You're hopeless, you know that?" said Miss Lily. "Come on, Oliver. I'll hoist him up and you accompany me. Your master needs your help."

"Of course, sir, right away."

Miss Lily picked up Alexander as though it were nothing, carrying him up the stairs and into the bedroom with Oliver following at her heels. She expertly navigated the cluttered floor in the dark, freezing cold room even as Oliver tripped over discarded laundry. She pulled his shoes off and tossed them aside, pushing Alexander onto the bed and draping the messy covers over him, as he curled up like a sleeping child.

"Go on now, Oliver."

"Me, sir? What should I do?"

"Vampires are cold all the time, in case you haven't noticed. He needs to sleep, and your warmth will help him rest."

Oliver's throat tightened with the thought of crawling into his master's bed, and he couldn't tell if it was fear or anticipation. He looked to Alexander for confirmation of what Miss Lily had said. "Sir... you want me to..."

"God damn it, Lily," he swore. "Just for tonight, yes." A low hum emanated from the mound at the center of the bed, one which drew Oliver near. He felt himself stepping forward, climbing onto the bed, and in a flash, he was sucked under the covers and surrounded by the strong arms of a cold vampire. "You're so warm. It's been ages since I've had a thrall in my bed." He yawned into Oliver's ear as his arms tightened.

"I knew that'd help," said Lily smugly. "Well, I'll be taking my leave. Good luck with our sire." She walked out, shutting the door.

Oliver, meanwhile, stared out into the gloom, his heart thumping. The bed was soft and smelled of floral soap and winter winds, and his master was gripping him so tightly it was almost uncomfortable. "Will this help you sleep, sir?"

"Hmph?"

"Um, will this help you sleep, sir?"

His deep voice was groggy, sounding half-asleep already. "'m never warm. Hard to stay awake when it's so warm." He sighed. "You're a good thrall. I hope you know that."

"Thank you, sir," he said, feeling warm himself from the praise.

"Almost the best thrall."

"...Almost, sir?"

"You should go to sleep, too."

"I can try, sir."

His master's voice hummed a sweet lullaby into his ear, and Oliver was immediately hypnotized once more. The fact that his master sounded so drowsy as he sang only made Oliver succumb to its spell faster. He was so tired, so sleepy, and his master was pleased with him too, inviting him to rest...

He was helping his master, finally. It was so nice to be here.

"You're mine, Oliver," said the voice in his ear. "My thrall, my perfect thrall."

"Yours, sir," Oliver agreed as he drifted off.

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Next time, Alexander takes matters into his own hands.

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