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Rumple stood in the bedroom of Rodmilla Tremaine, his head tilted downward and his expression blank. He was completely nude, having been ordered to remove the suit he was wearing prior. When he was with a client, he wore anything they wanted him to wear including nothing, it was that simple. The only thing keeping a few of his clients from leading him around town in nothing but a leash and ball gag was Capitol social norms. But if they did, he would have to obey.
Soon Rumple heard the approaching click, click, click of three pairs of high heels. In came the Tremaines.
“Rumple, my sweet, I have a gift for you!” Rodmilla Tremaine cooed in a sing-song voice. “Now, what do you say?”
“Thank you Lady Tremaine,” Rumple replied in a voice that he hoped was pliant enough for her to be satisfied.
“Glad to see you know your manners whore,” Lady Tremaine replied. The Tremaine sisters giggled. They giggled at everything he did or said, and everything that was done to him. In particular, no matter how many times they deprived him of his underwear, they would shriek and howl at the sight of his penis, as if him having one was some amazing thing. He would flash them a dimpled smile and pretend to be as amused as they were, but on the inside, he wanted to smother both of them so that they could never giggle at him again.
“And what is this gift Lady Tremaine?” Rumple asked.
“Mmmmm eager are we today?” Lady Tremaine replied, then she gestured over to the costume that was hanging on a clothes rack. “We are going to a soiree, and you are going to wear this.”
This particular getup was dark brown, almost entirely leather and snakeskin, and had several large spikes sticking out sideways from the front of the coat.
“It’s…beautiful,” Rumple said. He wasn’t lying. In another world, he may have worn such a thing voluntarily. It had a certain menace about it that appealed to him.
Lady Tremaine made a look like she had eaten something disgusting, then she strutted over to Rumple and grabbed his face, her nails digging into his cheek.
“It isn’t meant to be beautiful Rum. You are confusing ‘beautiful’ with ‘expensive,’” Lady Tremaine scolded. “Not that we really expect you to know any better, of course, but don’t call it beautiful when we’re out tonight. I will be very unhappy if you embarrass me.”
“Yes Lady Tremaine,” Rumple replied.
“Good. I also have another gift for you. Put this on.” Lady Tremaine handed him sheer gold-colored underwear. On the back, in black letters, was the word “Beast.”
It was a common Capitol assumption that men of the outlying districts were savage and animalistic. They would lust after Capitol and Career district women because they were more beautiful and refined than anything they could get back home. As a result, many women of the Capitol would fantasize about taking one of those men, teasing him, tempting him, and then using his uncontrollable drive to fuck one of his betters to bend him to their will. They would then have a domesticated animal in public, but a virile, lascivious beast when nobody was watching. Rumple knew that fantasy and he knew what part he played in it. This was the first time however, that he had to wear it on his own body.
“What are you waiting for? Put it on!” The elder Tremaine snapped.
The underwear was tight across his groin. Rumple felt his face grow hot and the Tremaine sisters began to giggle again.
“He’s blushing! Look he’s blushing!”
They moved in closer.
“Nobody’s going to see it Rumple!”
Their hands were on his chest and torso.
“Nobody but us!”
One sister (he could never tell them apart), reached down behind him and cupped his ass.
“That’s because we know what you really are.”
“You think so? Well you haven’t said anything yet,” Rumple growled. His tone was flirtatious but his words were true. And when they did get to know the ‘real him,’ it would not turn out that pleasant for either of them.
She continued to rub his ass until he felt himself getting hard, the sheer fabric stretching and barely accommodating his length. Like always, the physical sensation of being touched led his body to react to the Tremaines in an entirely different way than his mind thought of them. He was disgusted by his own weakness, but it did make it easier for him to do what had to be done.
“Mooom, do we have to go to the party? I don’t think Rumple wants to go anywhere! He wants me!”
“No me! You were first last time!”
“Ladies please, there’s plenty of me for both of you,” Rumple purred, stopping their incessant whining before it annoyed him any longer.
They giggled, which was, at least, better than the whining.
“He’s not doing anything right now but getting dressed,” Lady Tremaine said. Then she turned, opened the bedroom door, and screamed: “CINDERELLA!”
At once, Rumple heard the servant girl running up the stairs. She had once been a lady of the Capitol just like her stepsisters but her father had done some things that made President Blue find his existence a bit…inconvenient. As a result, she was stripped of any privilege and prestige she had and now lived in the Tremaine manor as a servant. In order to distance herself from her former husband’s crimes, Lady Tremaine would abuse her until she could barely stand. It wasn’t even 5:00 yet and the poor girl was already dead on her feet.
“What is it Lady Tremaine?” Cinderella breathed.
“Dress my whore,” Lady Tremaine replied, gesturing to the costume in front of her. “And when you’re done, dress me and my daughters.”
“Yes Lady Tremaine.”
The first thing Cinderella did was hand him a puffy brown shirt, which he put on easily, then a pair of taut leather pants. The pants were more difficult. He was growing older and not as trim as he once was. Like the underwear, the pants also left nothing to the imagination. He would probably feel naked all night.
Next came the vest, which he slipped on over the shirt. Cinderella gave him an apologetic look as she began to lace it. Each time she tied it squeezed his heart and lungs just a little bit more and made it just a little bit harder to breathe. It was slow, agonizing torture, and he knew that once that awful thing was laced to completion, there would be no end to it until the Tremaines wanted it off of him. Then came the coat, which weighed him down like it was made of lead, and the boots. Lacing the boots took a full 20 minutes of Cinderella’s time, and he knew as soon as he stood in them that his feet would hurt for days. The entire getup was a mark of his status in their world. As a Tribute, he had to work himself to near exhaustion to stay alive, but as a Victor whore, he was a pampered pet to be kept helpless and nearly immobile.
He felt several hands on his hair. Now that he was in costume, the Tremaine sisters wanted to curl it. They pulled it hard as they threaded it through the iron, causing him to wince.
“Oh look how handsome you are Rumple!”
“You could even pass for a gentleman!”
They kept cooing at him and yanking at his hair until it was all curled.
“Close your eyes!” One of the sisters ordered. Rumple did as he was told and felt something cold and liquid touch his face. They kept rubbing it and rubbing it into him until there wasn’t an inch of his face and neck that wasn’t touched by it.
“Now open them!”
Rumple was met with his own reflection in a hand mirror. His entire face was covered with sparkling, golden, paint.
“Oh how lovely it looks on him!” One of the sisters said to the other.
“And it will look even lovelier on the inside of my thighs,” the other one said back.
They both began to giggle.
“What do you think Beast? You want to eat us alive?”
“I will devour anything you put in front of me,” Rumple replied.
And, with several helpings of wine, he may even manage to forget the taste.
The party was like any other social gathering in the Capitol. Party goers gorged themselves on delicacies, vomited, and then stuffed themselves again, until they had eaten enough food to feed everyone in District 12. Cocktails of all sorts of drugs were passed around so people could try to create a sense of danger in their comfortable lives. Even the utensils they used were sterling silver and the plates made of gold. He hung off of Lady Tremaine’s arm, entertaining the guests with stories of all the Tributes that he brutally killed 20 years ago. Pretending their deaths meant nothing to him and their ghosts still did not plague his mind at night. They knew that he was brilliant, and that his tactician’s mind was what won the games for him and his Tributes. They wanted to know how. For some, it was so they could live vicariously through him. For others, it was because they wanted to take the man who dared to be more than his background would suggest and make him learn his place.
He had been in the middle of describing how he made Belle into a Victor when, by sheer coincidence, the MC’s voice boomed:
“Ladies and Gentlemen! It’s my pleasure to introduce to you, the Victor Belle French!”
Then a spotlight directed the crowd to the archway where Belle was being led by her handlers. Her auburn hair was in curls and she was wearing a yellow dress that draped low across her bosoms. She looked far more innocent and girlish than she had in her Girl on Fire costume or during the bloodbath that was the games. It was obvious why she was dressed like this for her debut as a new Victor, they were advertising her to potential clients.
“Stop staring,” Lady Tremaine hissed at him. As she aged, she became more possessive of him. To make matters worse, his barely-concealed desire for a woman from the Districts did not conform to her fantasy of a lowborn barbarian desperate for Capitol flesh.
“She’s my mentee not my-“ Rumple began.
“Are you talking back to me?”
“My apologies Lady Tremaine.”
Rumple spent the rest of the evening trying to avoid looking at Belle. That was how he did not notice when she snuck up behind him.
“Rumple! What are you doing here?”
“My duty as a Victor dearie,” he replied, trying to keep the regret out of his voice. He would have to tell her soon enough.
She was eyeing the costume he was wearing, looking him up and down. He did not like her seeing him like this. A trussed up turkey, a painted whore, dirty, wrinkled, and used up. Maybe if they had met in another life, in a little town where he would own a tailor’s shop and she would run the library. There would be no Districts, no Capitol, no Games. His heart ached for that life. That was the life he wanted, and that was the life he could never have. In this life, he could spend every night being fucked but no one, least of all Belle, would ever love him.
“Rumple,” she whispered.
He turned to her, eyebrows raised. “Yes?”
“It’s just you-I mean-what you’re wearing, it’s…beautiful.”