meat hooks >> lazarus&commander

c o m m a n d e r   7 6 .

Instructions: you come, masked, to the nineteenth floor of the avernus inn. room 1976 waits for you, unlocked. undress in the entry way, and meet me downstairs. i will watch you as you do so, do not touch the lights. do not touch me. do not touch yourself. that is my job, and my job alone. listen, or do not listen, i will handle you accordingly. your choice. if you are scared, do not come. 

---

he waits motionless, commander, in the basement of his three story hotel room. his hands folded behind his back, the smell of sweat permeating from inside the leather suit. in this world, his name is commander, a man interested in exploration to the fullest degree. they meet first in a virtual reality, but that's not always how he finds them. he and his men, those not just interested but willing, eager. hungry. 

there's a demented sense to it that he wasn't always fond of, for the acts always felt natural to a man such as himself. leather, and chains, and whips, and the arsenal in between. an anarchist in the way he creates his own laws, commander immerses himself so deeply in the scenarios he creates. it's intoxicating, the blood rush that comes from being in total control. he craves it in every sense of the word: control. 

if only there was a way to make it last forever - if only he could find one who could handle it that long. he hears the integral click of the front door, and remains statuesque, observing more so than merely watching. he looks for flaws first with eyes of a killer, critical and wanting, for he doesn't care for just anyone. lazarus holt is a special man, an attraction to the eye, a sculpted body only the likes of the capitol could provide. 

good. stay. 

in the wake of it, the commander lets lazarus come forth, scanning him further as he approaches under the blue light. he comes closer, and closer, until he can feel holt's breath against his mask. though his eyes are covered, he sees everything holt has. the two stand in tandem before the first order comes: "sit," his voice inhumanely deep, "floor." 

the leather mask does not breathe, instead, he grows accustom to the low oxygen. the heat burning at his face, commander welcomes it. as his toy sits on his knees, he reveals his hands from behind his back, a vial in his right and a cat o' nine in his left. comply, or destroy. 

he lifts the vial to lazarus holt's nostril and commands: "breathe." the man's first test.