Darius 15 Thank you to Nifty! Please consider donating: https://donate.nifty.org/.
Enjoy this piece of fiction (which is based on a true story). Do not do irresponsible or illegal stuff. Happy to get your ideas and comments at 74775 (at) tutanota.com.
15
Life for Felix changed, and it changed for the better, he thought. At his place, he was served by Lucas 24/7. Felix made good use of his roommate's absolute submission. They rearranged the rooms so that Felix had more space. All chores were done by Lucas, shopping, cleaning, washing, serving. Lucas was to move around naked most of the time, and Felix also had him gagged whenever he did not have the desire to talk with him. Lucas was eager to please Felix. He felt that it was his loyal duty towards the club to keep Felix in shape: After all, Felix was an elitist servant. He saw Master Darius and his circle of friends quite often, and he had to be in shape for that.
But it was not all dominance and submission in their apartment. They also talked like the room-mates they were. They often confided to each other how Master Darius had his grip over them. How lucky they were to have found the club. How they admired Master Darius. They shared what they experienced with him, and the rumours they had heard about him.
Lucas wore a chastity belt now. Master Darius had said this was necessary so as to make him a better slave. Lucas had understood this. It was important that he fully concentrated on the pleasure of the others, not his own. Felix was still free -- it was one of the privileges of an elite servant.
The bond between the two grew stronger, not least since they assured each other that the change of lifestyle they were going through was right. They both had essentially stopped studying. They dressed in the Club's uniforms. They wore their collars with pride. They had lost the connections to their friends. They rarely spoke with family. Their thoughts, their daily activities, their lives were now centered on serving the Club. It felt right.
Yet, once in a while, there were moments of doubt. The longing to go back to the life of before. Felix also still had trouble with the intense sex. He had believed to be straight ever since he had his cock in his hand. After a couple of weeks, Lucas had the feeling he had to report Felix's doubts to Josh. When Felix came to the Darius estate the next time he was welcome by Josh. He liked Josh, not only because of his magnificent looks.
Josh, the second-in-command, had a way of making people feel both at ease and on edge at the same time. He studied Felix for a moment before speaking.
"You still have doubts?" It wasn't accusatory, just a statement of fact.
Felix did not know what to say. Josh's expression softened.
"I understand. That's why you're going to meet with Ashraf tonight. He'll help you find your resolve."
The mention of Ashraf's name sent a shiver down Felix's spine. He'd heard whispers of the man's intellect, his ability to weave words into a golden tapestry of truth that could sway the most steadfast of skeptics. Ashraf was an advisor to Master Darius, an intellectual. Someone had called him "the Club's brain". Felix had never met him.
"What do I do?" he croaked.
"Just listen," Josh replied, his eyes boring into Felix's. "And be ready to accept the truth when you hear it." Josh patted his head and squeezed his cock. "Get out of your tracksuit and put on that. Ashraf wants you to feel comfy."
Felix had expected to find a white robe or something with a spiritual air. Instead, he found a long black puffer down coat with a fur collar. It felt warm, comfortable, luxurious. The soft material on his naked body felt awesome. Josh had left, and Felix waited for a long time. His mind was at peace. Later, it must have been evening by now, he was finally called.
The room had a large super-deep sofa where Ashraf lingered. There was a single candle that lit the room. The air had some incense, and the walls seemed to breathe with the weight of the secrets they held.
Ashraf was an unexpected sight. Felix had vague ideas of an old man with spectacles and so on, but here was a man of around 30. He had an exotic look with deep brown eyes, but his hair was dyed blond. He wore a luxury outfit from a noble brand. Nothing looked as if he was a mastermind intellectual. Once, Felix entered, Ashraf jumped to his feet. He hugged Felix and invited him to lie down with him in that large sofa landscape. Felix instantly felt at home. This was so kind!
They were not alone though. Two barely-clothed teenagers were on either side of Ashraf, their eyes cast down in reverence. Their hands moved in a gentle rhythm, tracing patterns over the fabric of Ashraf's clothes. Felix felt his stomach twist, but he forced himself to focus on the man before him.
Ashraf looked up, his eyes sharp and knowing. "Welcome, brother," he said, his voice a soothing balm. Felix noticed that he did not call him "servant" or similar, although he definitely was high up in the Club's ranks.
"Doubt is the thorn in the side of faith, but it is also the key to unlocking its true power."
The conversation that followed was unlike any Felix had ever had. It wasn't about threats or indoctrination, but rather a philosophical journey through the darkest corners of his own mind. Ashraf spoke of the world's suffering, of the inevitability of decay, and the necessity of a guiding force to bring order to chaos. His words were mesmerizing. He illuminated the role of Felix in this world. Above all, while it was deep stuff, it felt so natural. Things started to make sense. The words resounded with a lot of what Felix had in his head, but now the pieces were put together.
The concept was profound, and it resonated with him on a level he couldn't quite articulate. Ashraf explained to him the Cycle of Submission and Dominance. The cycle had several elements, each one intrinsically linked to the other, creating a harmonious balance that sustained the circle.
The first element was Acceptance - recognizing one's own limitations and embracing them without fear or resentment. This, Ashraf said, was the foundation of all true power. Without acceptance, one could never truly submit, and without submission, one could never truly lead. Felix, who had always felt the weight of his own inadequacies pressing down on him swallowed every word.
The second element was Trust - the willingness to place oneself in the hands of another, to believe in their strength and guidance. Ashraf spoke of trust as a bridge between the self and the world, a bond that could either elevate or destroy.
The third element was Obedience - the act of following the will of the dominant force, whether it be a person or the universe itself. It was not a mindless following, but a choice made from a place of understanding and respect. It was the ultimate expression of one's faith in the cycle, a declaration of participation in the grand dance of life.
The fourth element was Growth - the transformation that occurred when one fully embraced their role in the cycle. Growth was the proof that the cycle was not stagnant, but a living, breathing entity that evolved with those who danced within it.
Felix listened, rapt, as Ashraf weaved his words into a tapestry of wisdom and revelation. The room around him seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them. He forgot about the gorgeous teenage boys who caressed Ashraf while he was speaking.
The fifth element in the cycle was Surrender - the moment of letting go, when the individual's will melded with the will of the dominant force. The sixth element was Resilience - the strength to endure the trials that would inevitably come with serving. It was the steel that forged the submissive into the enduring servant, the ability to bend without breaking.
Felix understood now that the cycle was not about the subjugation of the weak by the strong, but about the harmonious interplay of all forces. It was the cycle that allowed civilizations to flourish, that allowed leaders to lead, that gave rise to the most audacious achievements of humanity. Without those who knew their place and served it willingly, the world would be a chaotic and tumultuous place, devoid of the structure and order necessary for progress.
The greatest minds of philosophy had always understood this. They had seen the power in the act of serving a greater good. Socrates had his disciples, Plato his guardians, and Nietzsche had his Übermensch - all archetypes of the dominant and submissive roles that played out in the human condition. Ashraf's cycle offered a deeper understanding, one that transcended the rigid structures of traditional thought. It was a concept that whispered to the very essence of what it meant to be human.
Felix saw the threads of his own life weaving themselves into the fabric of Ashraf's teachings. His past, full of unanswered questions and unfulfilled ambitions, now made sense within the confines of the Club. Each failure, each moment of doubt, was not a random occurrence but a deliberate part of the pattern that had led him here.
Felix pondered this, his mind racing with questions. How did one choose to serve? Was it a destiny carved out from birth, or a decision made in a moment of clarity? He thought back to his own life, to moments where he had felt both the thrill of control and the comfort of submission. Had he been dancing within the cycle all along, unaware of the rhythm that guided him?
The more he considered it, the more he realized that his path had been littered with moments of subtle domination and submission. The teachers who had shaped his mind, the friends who had pushed him to be better, the lovers who had taught him the power of vulnerability. Each had held a piece of his soul in their hands, molding him into the young man he was today. And yet, he had never recognized the dance for what it was.
A memory resurfaced: When he was 13 or 14, a new student named Darren had joined his school. Darren was strong, confident, and seemingly fearless. The other boys looked up to him, and even the teachers deferred to his natural authority. One day, Darren had approached him after class, asking for help with a particularly difficult assignment. The power dynamic was evident, even to the young and inexperienced Felix.
He remembered the way Darren's eyes searched his own, looking for something he couldn't quite name. There was a hunger there, a need that made his stomach flutter with anticipation. As they sat together in the quiet of an empty classroom, Darren's hand brushed against his own, sending a jolt of electricity through his body. It was the first time he had felt the thrill of submission, the thrill of being chosen, even though it was for something as simple as helping with homework.
Ashraf nodded. "How did it continue?"
Felix remembered that after this incident Darren hardly acknowledged him. Felix longed for more contact with Darren, but it never materialised. Weeks later, Felix got a brand new basketball from his parents as a present. It was the most precious gift he had ever had up to then. Darren spotted him with the ball and some friends on the court. He said something like: "Nice one", and out of the impulse of the moment, so Felix recounted, he replied: "You can have it if you want, Darren!" But Darren just said: "I know I can." Then Felix said: "Darren, I want to give it to you as a present." And Darren took it. Felix remembered that he later lied to his parents about the fate of their gift, making up a story.
Felix had never before told anyone this true story.
Ashraf looked at him with kindness and affection. "The gift you gave Darren was a symbol of your willingness to serve, even if you didn't recognize it at the time. It was your tribute to acknowledging the working of the cycle." Ashraf touched his hand. "Thank you for sharing this memory with me", he said. "You understood at the time that Darren was the one who was more worthy to have it. It is the same today, but it is no longer a ball, it is you, yourself, your soul that you give as tribute to Darius. You have reached the stage of ultimate understanding."
Felix felt his heart pound in his chest, the words resonating with a truth he had never allowed himself to admit. It was as if Ashraf had peeled back the layers of his psyche, revealing the core of his desires. The name of Darius, dropped in the conversation, reminded him of his longing to the master.
Felix sensed that it was the right place and time to ask a question that had troubled him: Sex. He had always identified as straight, his relationships with girls confirming his self-perceived place in the traditional hierarchy of gender roles.
"Do I have to submit sexually as well?", Felix asked. He tried to explain that he did not object to gay sex in general but he started to search for words to express his feelings. Ashraf hushed him.
"The body is a mere vessel. It is through the act of sexual obedience that you will find the purest form of surrender. It is not about pleasure or pain, but about the exchange of power, the ultimate act of trust. It is not about the flesh, but the soul that it connects. The Cycle of Submission is woven through every aspect of life, including the intimate."
Felix felt his cheeks flush, his mind racing with the implications. The idea of yielding to a man, of allowing himself to be dominated in such an intimate way, was terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure -- as he had already experienced.
"Sex is raw energy, isn't it?", Ashraf asked.
"Sure!", Felix said, and he thought of his initiation night at the Club where the energy was highest voltage.
"For the cycle to keep moving it needs this energy. The world needs this energy! Think of all the things that happened in your life because of your arousal, your raw energy! But this is not what we are really talking about."
"What is it?"
"It's love. Through the act of sexual submission, you ultimately connect with Darius and his circle of friends. You prove your love, and they love you back."
Felix felt a strange warmth spread through his body. The desire to submit to such a figure grew stronger by the second, a yearning that seemed to come from a place beyond his conscious mind. He could see the appeal in surrendering to someone who wielded power so masterfully, someone who could guide him through the tumultuous seas of life's challenges. And he, Felix, was fuelling this power with the energy of his sexual submission.
The philosophical implications of the Cycle of Submission were vast and all-encompassing. It was not merely a personal preference or kink, but a rational and logical approach to the human condition. The idea that power and submission were intertwined in every aspect of existence, from the most mundane to the most profound, was compelling.
Felix found himself pondering the nature of his own desires, the moments in his life where he had felt most alive. He had always craved a sense of belonging, of purpose, and now he understood that this was his innate need to serve a master. It was not a sign of weakness, but a recognition of the intricate dance that kept the world turning. The more he contemplated Ashraf's teachings, the more the concept made sense to him, not just as a personal inclination, but as a rational philosophical truth.
By the time the candle had guttered out, leaving only the faintest trace of light, Felix's conviction had been restored. He understood now, with a newfound clarity, that serving the Darius Club was not just a choice, but a duty. A natural obligation. The room felt warmer, more alive with a sense of purpose that had been missing from his life for too long. He spoke about this, and the words flowed like from the unconscious. He had his eyes closed. Yes, he connected with Master Darius.
When he opened his eyes, expecting to find Ashraf nodding in approval, the sofa across from him was empty. The teenage boys had remained, their hands now resting on his thighs, their eyes now looking up at him with something akin to hunger. Surprise jolted through him, but before he could speak, one of them leaned in, their breath hot on his neck, and whispered, "He said we could help you remember." A sense of belonging washed over him, and he let the teens do their deed.