London – 1864.
An era of trains, factories, Gothic and classical architecture, of great bourgeoisie and influential families — and one of those families held sway over both the most peripheral neighborhoods and the most luxurious salons. Working in that place could be considered an enormous privilege reserved for a few. The enormous mansion, with its garden known as the Imperial, had the most modern architecture in all of Europe, custom-built to please its owner.
When I was twelve, something peculiar happened that would change my life forever. At the time, my mother was a cook at the Gran Fort Mansion, located in the English capital. We had to leave our former home after my father was brutally murdered due to gambling debts. That's when she got the job in the mansion's kitchen, with the possibility of bringing her only child along.
The owner of all that wealth was William Gran Fort II. The young master was powerful, the proprietor of brothels spread across all of London, in addition to illicit businesses no one dared to speak of. The man had lost his parents that very year in a mysterious accident and had to take over the family business prematurely. Some even blamed him for the calamity — just rumors whispered through the corridors of that enormous house. None of the employees had the courage to look him in the eye, afraid of being cursed, for yet another story surrounded the man: that if you stared at him for too long, you would be devoured. I never quite understood it at the time; I was just a child.
Rainy nights were not uncommon, but that was the strongest storm I had witnessed so far in the mansion. On that stormy night, I walked through the enormous dark hallways, illuminated only by the candle I held in my hand. Overcome by enormous curiosity, I decided to explore, even with little light, the most forbidden parts of that place. That's when I heard ragged breathing coming from the room at the end of the corridor. I sneaked closer, fearing that someone would hear my heart hammering hard against my chest. The moans weren't of pain; they seemed to express feelings I did not yet know.
The door was slightly ajar. As soon as my eyes caught the scene, I realized something unbelievable, something indescribable.
On the bed was Hugo, the gardener's son, on all fours, his body sweaty and exposed, hands gripping the white sheets tightly, lips parted and releasing the most erotic moans I had ever heard. On the boy's face — just a few years older than me — was the very personification of pleasure. He trembled, completely surrendered to the man thrusting into him; it didn't seem like it was the first time the older man had possessed him.
My eyes drifted to the owner of that mansion — tall, firm muscles, some old scars on his body. His wild firmness in Hugo only displayed his power, moving in and out of the boy with fervor. Then his gaze met mine. He said nothing — in fact, he showed me a lustful smile and merely intensified his movements, as if my presence only fueled his desire. In that moment, I wished I were the one being devoured by that man with such a wild and dominant stare.
The weeks dragged on, my mind lingering on that image, and I couldn't bear the gaze of that man who now stared at me as if I were his next prey. I understood why the people in that house were afraid of being devoured.
1870.
My eighteenth birthday was rainy; since early morning the raindrops fell upon the mansion. Even though I wanted to go to the garden to pick fruit and fish with my friends, I couldn't risk it in the downpour. Nevertheless, at night, with some of the staff participating and a cake made by my mother with the proper permission from her master, I had a party. It was rare for us to be given sweets, as we were only servants — there wasn't much luxury. Still, it was better than wandering the alleys begging for bread. Misery seemed to have only worsened, according to the news.
That night, I stayed alone in my room, trying to decipher a letter I had stolen from Miriam — the girl who lived with her eyes shining with love for Hugo, though she didn't know the boy already belonged to someone else. Focused as I was, it greatly surprised me when the door suddenly opened. The man entered without hesitation. William Gran Fort stood before me, his lascivious eyes brimming with desire as he approached. I shrank back like a cornered animal. Yet as soon as I felt his hand touching my face and his lips claiming mine, I understood that I would belong to that man from that moment on.
Pleasure and pain were two extremes that intertwined like faithful friends, and every time my body was possessed in such a way, that friction between two opposing forces only dominated and maddened me. William didn't seem satisfied with just having my body; he wanted my soul and my heart. However, he was not willing to give his, and he never would. That only awakened the dominant side of the man, making me exclusively his. How possessive could he be of me? Every night, it was me he sought — to be his, to satisfy his wild desire. It was irresistible, like the sweet chalice of poison I drank, addicting me but slowly killing me.
1873.
It was not in that place that I wanted to live. Even though it was irresistible and dangerous, I couldn't stay there. My dream was to be an investigator; my father had been a fiction writer, and I had been literate from a young age. I used to listen to his stories and take his books to read — there was always an air of mystery and investigation. So why not become someone useful to society by uncovering those who would harm it?
Until my father was brutally murdered, only intensifying my dreams, though they had cooled when I came to the mansion. It was a lack of hope and direction, mainly because the master held me captive, using my body at his will. That's why, when I came of age, I could finally pursue what I had always desired. However, before I could leave the place, William wanted to see me. He was inconsolable about my departure.
"Stay with me, Nathan. I'll give you the world if you wish — just be mine." His hand wrapped around my waist, and my body already trembled with the mere touch. My face flushed suddenly upon feeling him close. "Your body is addicted to me; all that's left is to surrender your heart."
"Mr. Gran Fort, I can't do that. My body may desire you, but it's not what my heart wants." I pushed him away, using all the willpower I had at that moment. His mere touch intoxicated me and made me want him. However, my need for freedom was still stronger than the desires that the lasciviousness within me fueled.
"It won't be long before you come looking for me again, Nathan. You belong to me and no one else." The man had an authoritative and dominant voice. His bright blue eyes and slightly disheveled dark hair only made it harder to catch my breath.
"Goodbye, Mr. Gran Fort." I said, taking the few belongings I had, without looking back. I knew that if I diverted my gaze even for a moment, I would give in to his advances and stay, continuing to crave him inside me, his strong and animalistic touches.
The last thing I witnessed of that place were the gates closing. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the sway of the carriage. I had no intention of returning to that castle. I would never again drink from that poison — or so I thought.
1878 (Present day)