Chapter Text
The life of Ciel Phantomhive had been quite mundane for a while, mainly due to the Queen's lack of orders for the Watchdog. The Funtom corporation had been without any incidents that demanded further exploration and even Sebastian had begun to slack a little in his butlers' duties, though only to the extent that it was visible to the demon himself.
The young master rarely left the mansion grounds, excused himself from various social gatherings and appointments and therefore saw no reason to go through an extensive morning routine of dressing up in pompous attires and neatly combed hair. The boy looked a bit of a mess these days, to say the least - if Sebastian had any say in the matter. But after further consideration, this was probably to be expected of an adolescent in full bloom; not quite the child he once were, not yet fully mature.
Ciel Phantomhive had aged sixteen last December and even though age was only a number, it was evident the boy's features had changed over the years;
Gone were plump, cherubic cheeks and coltish legs. Now replacing the features were a more well-defined jawline, high cheekbones and even though the deep blue cerulean colour of his one eye hadn't changed, somehow it held less of that childish innocence which had once been present. His height seemed to have settled for now, leaving the boy only a few inches taller and a figure as small as ever. It would still be considered a well-proportioned beauty none the less, but hardly any muscles were evident and his hands were ever the tiny little display of well-defined bone structure.
But oh, how those little fingers could point out mistakes and demand this and that. The boy still possessed unwavering determination and never backed down from a challenge.
That was until he had received urgent news of an uneven accountancy in the German department of the Funtom corporation in Berlin. His little spies and secret confidential had informed him of the suspicion of money laundering by none other than the head of the foreign department in Berlin, Oberhaupt Gustave Gerhardt, who had suddenly gained an excessive boost in wealth and was now flaunting a certain luxurious lifestyle. More than he had done so beforehand.
The boy had been furious for days, yelling over the phone at random insignificant underlings, when he finally realized he had been too lazy and blasé about his corporation for too long. No one got away with swindling money from underneath the nose of the Queen's Watchdog, Head of the Funtom corporation, Earl of Phantomhive. He would make sure of it and had instantly demanded Sebastian would find a solution - a plan - as to set things straight once and for all.
He damned his own negligence to hell - a thought which Sebastian had listened in on in secrecy and it provided him with amusement to no end. The poor boy, so distraught and furious. He had certainly perked up in his entire attitude over the last few days and when he had neglected to add certain limits to the which's and what's in the plan he demanded of the demon, in order to solve the German Funtom issue, Sebastian saw no reason not to ignite that fiery spark even further ...
The tinderbox for lighting that spark came by carriage that very Saturday afternoon in the spring; a special delivery from one Nina Hopkins.
”You can’t be serious about this,” the adolescent boy pleaded almost excruciatingly so.
”Oh, make no mistake of how utterly serious I am about this, my young ... mistress.”
That infernal smirk was visible all the way into the depths of irises blazing with hellfire. Draped over his arms were long trails of beautiful, dark cerulean blue, decorated with rhinestones and pearls, lace blonde and ribbons. Every piece of the fabric, right down to the last minuscule stitch, had been overseen by skilled eyes and competent hands.
He would be damned to hell once more, had it been of any less quality.
The dress had been elegantly made with short sleeves; barely covering the shoulder and deltoids. The front a delicate wilderness of blondes, made into a stiff and beautiful high-necked, buttoned up lace collar. The skirt was a mass of volume, reflecting the light as if it were a thousand waves.
Ah, if only that dress would ever be done justice in a proper waltz across the dance floor. It would have been a sight to behold. Alas, the boy still struggled with his two left feet when it came to dancing.
And there ... in the box on the edge of the bed lay the last piece of garment, adamant for making a proper lady out of his young master. It had been this piece which had caused the boy to throw a tantrum worthy of a 5 year old candy-starving child. Of course, that scene wasn’t too far fetched either when it came to the demanding boy. The demon chuckled, hidden behind spectacles (donned in the earlier violin lesson) and a white cotton clad hand.
"Sebastian!”
The boy pointed a demeaning, authoritative finger in the direction of his snickering demon and stomped his foot. His cheeks had already been tinted with the slightest pink and a radiating heat to match his fury. The demon straightened himself and slipped back into his well composed human persona, the one that is the Phantomhive head butler. He looked at the boy across his spectacles, but still couldn’t help but twist his master’s words into a teasing manner.
”I believe you ordered me to come up with the perfect plan for extracting information from the Oberhaupt. I have overlooked and intensely studied all files on the matter, in order to ensure the best plan on the matter.”
Before the boy could interrupt, the demon quickly continued, ”And given he has a certain fondness of women, I believe you would be in quite the favourable position, to extract information about his operations overseas. As long as you don the right attire, behave yourself as a lady should and ask curious, albeit ignorant questions,” he purred and laid the silken dress across the bed.
Small huffs of anger were still heard from behind the tiny wooden desk, at which Ciel Phantomhive sat. All angry with himself for not specifying exactly what and whatnot he was willing to do, in order to make this plan succeed. Ciel Phantomhive very well remembered the last time one of Sebastian’s plans had involved disguises like this. Ciel had worn several over the years, but never one as excruciatingly painful or embarrassing as that one, that bloody pink dress ... and the source of all the pain ...
Ciel sighed deeply and waved a hand in a dismissing gesture in front of him, signaling Sebastian he wasn’t refusing to wear the attire, but not necessarily agreeing either. His butler was as right as ever, he had to admit. It was a peculiar, yet effective way to extract information:
It was common knowledge that nouveau-riches loved bragging (which also made them unbearable company) and who better to extract those secrets behind newly achieved wealth, than a young woman giving her full attention to let the man bask in his own ego?
The Oberhaupt had been invited overseas, to attend the yearly gala of high standing nobility in London. It was yet again the Social Season and the Viscount of Druitt were rather famous for whatever he hosted; it was surely the ball to attend, that was common knowledge. Though he didn't quite fit the pattern of high standing nobility, the Oberhaupt were unaware, probably already overzealous due to the fact he had been invited to such an extravagant party. The invitation also included a visit to the main Funtom factory in London, which gave the overseas traveling reasonable cause. Sebastian had made sure to copy the invitation flawlessly, sneak in the Oberhaupt’s name on the guest list (the Viscount would probably never notice and surely his histrionic feats only spurred him on, in adding as many guests as possible, to the already 3 foot long guest list).
Sebastian even went as far as to mimic the signature of the Earl of Phantomhive, stating in his name that he would be most interested in meeting the well competent Oberhaupt, appealing to his ego once again. The poor, ignorant childlike mind of the Earl of Phantomhive - that strategy never seemed to fail. If only they knew of the truths to this vexing little creature ...
Ciel had been left in the dark about all matters of the plan, until today. Solely due to the fact, that the demon oh so enjoyed seeing his young master ricochet between all emotional spectrums. That authoritative voice of his echoing in his mind with the tiniest hint of frustration and anger. It was a never ending game, in which both of them were always participating. Ciel rose from his chair and moved closer to the bed, as tiny little fragments of flashbacks appeared in his mind;
His twelve year old self and having been half-heartedly coerced by the demon and his late aunt to present him as a distant niece ...
"S-sebastian! It hurts!”
"Please bear with it a little longer, young master,” he remembered the demon saying in an insignificant tone. ”You can do it.”
Ciel squeezed his eyes shut as if to veer the unpleasant memory from proceeding further and inched closer to the bed. Sebastian stood next to the bed poster, awaiting either acceptance of the plan or another dismissal. Completely devoid of emotions externally - yet a mischievous smile threatening to display itself upon his features was boiling up from the inside.
Perhaps the boy needed some last push over the edge, to make him more agreeable.
Another plan started to take form in the demon’s mind; sly and cunning, but never the less effective on a devious, virile adolescent mind, he was sure of it. He'd have him wearing the disguise, all of the disguise, within the blink of an eye. All it would take would be few insinuations and subtle gestures. He had long known of the boy's depravity, but had never truly entertained the idea of deriving his fantasies into a real life situation. The mise én scene was already laid out for their little game; all it would take was a hint of provocation to have his young master acting exactly the way he so chose to conduct the strings attached.
The butler very well knew he would be banished to hell and back, if his young master knew how he had listened in on the nightly escapades that took place on top of pillows and bed covers over the years lately.
His young master had gone from a childlike innocence to curious adolescent over the last few years. It would be considered perfectly normal behavior, yes, but what he had never anticipated was exactly how depraved the boy truly was:
It had been about two years ago. The hour was late and the boy had insisted on going to bed and had refrained from Sebastian’s services that night. It had been an order:
"You will not come to my room, unless I am in severe danger.”
The boy had stomped his way out of the dining room and hurried steps could be heard up the stairs, to end in the sound of a door slamming shut. It had been quiet for some time from upstairs. Sebastian had obeyed his master’s requests, but was left perplexed nonetheless. The boy had never refused his nightly bathing routine before.
Something was amiss, odd to say the least.
After an hour or so, the plug being pulled from a bathtub was heard and Sebastian was somehow relieved; perhaps the boy truly just wanted to gain a little independence in his routine and was coming of age.
The light was dim in the grand kitchen, where the butler was mixing a cake batter for elevenses. All attention went towards the preparation of tomorrow’s meals, peeling apples and shaping tiny biscuits at inhuman speed. After all, he was one hell of a ...
"S-Sebastian"
The faint mention of his name in a tone, which was laced with arousal and desire ... The demon nearly dropped the bowl containing the cake batter and went completely rigid, fixing all senses on his young master. He had been forbidden to go to his room, unless for life threatening reasons.
This was not a life threatening call of his name.
Oh quite the contrary, the demon smirked to himself.
His knuckles had gone white from the tight grip on the whisk and he felt his own inhuman heart speed up, just a few more beats per minute. His name was never mentioned again, but oh, how those little moans intrigued him so. And the nightly escapades continued throughout the years and so did the demon’s infatuation with his young master; the demon had now, more than once, been lying in his tiny servants' chamber late at night while listening in on the boy's mischief, eyes wildly ablaze with intense desire, the Faustian contract seal on his hand burning a scorching heat into his being.
The young master never again uttered a spoken word during said escapades, but several glimpses of the demon’s own eyes haunting the little earl's thoughts had not gone amiss. What a deviant little creature, he smirked inwardly to himself.
So these are the pleasurable nightmares which haunts you, young master?
Sebastian pulled himself from the sultry memory of his master and turned his head towards him, not able to hide his smirking any longer.
”Is the garment to your liking, young master? Miss Hopkins has surely outdone herself this time,” he said in an assertive tone, still not moving from his spot.
Ciel’s eyes slowly fixed themselves upon the last piece in the box. It truly was magnificent; he had to admit Nina Hopkins never compromised on quality. The dominant colour an azure blue with subtle hints of black lace blonde stitched into the top and bottom. Silver busk fastenings covered the middle, all the way down the front. The boning had been delicately covered with thin, black satin, some of them ending in little snippets below the bottom. Curious little hands turned the piece over to further inspect the back. The visible eye of the adolescent boy widened in a mix of excitement and fear. It was as he had dreaded; a never ending black lace strapped through tiny holes from bottom to top.
An exasperated sigh was all that was heard throughout the room.
So this was what the demon had meant by pleasurable torture while cocking an eyebrow, when Ciel asked what his plan involved, a few days ago.
This.
The corset.