Fic: Rainbow’s Freedom (Paradise Arc) (35/37)
Title: Rainbow’s Freedom (Paradise Arc) (35/37)
Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters: (this chapter): Lionel Luthor, Edmund Caldwell
Series Notes: In the 23rd century, Earth is a technologically-advanced society that practices the ancient institution of slavery. As Bruce and Clark continue to juggle being lovers as well as Master and slave, Bruce continues his Abolitionist work, and a shocking Family Secret is revealed. Meanwhile, the Queen Family welcomes a new member, and Steve and Hal meet their Destinies, although neither one realizes it yet. The entire series can be found here.
Genres: Drama, AU
Rating: (this chapter): PG-13
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: Lionel and Edmund have an interesting conversation over lunch.
Date Of Completion (First Draft): August 10, 2008
Date Of Posting: June 7, 2009
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1734
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
"Evil can be packaged in the most mundane wrappings,
but never fear: it is there, lurking and ready to pounce."
Jexelle Mantell
Rigellian Philosopher
1066 B.C.E.
XXXV
AN IRON FIST IN A RED VELVET GLOVE
“Ahh, Halloween Week in Gotham. Nothing like it.”
Lionel looked up at the cultured voice. “Hello, Edmund.”
“May I join you?”
“Certainly.”
The older man sat down, resting his cane by the chair. Lionel’s waitress came over, taking Edmund’s drink order. As she walked away, he focused on her pert behind.
“Pity she’s not manacled,” he said with a regretful sigh.
“What, you can’t get a free waitress?”
At Lionel’s smirk, Edmund’s eyes gleamed. “It’s certainly more challenging than bedding a slave whore.”
“True. The power issues are exciting with slaves, but freemen-and-women make you work for it.”
“Mmm.” Edmund scanned the menu. “So, are you staying at the Manor? Your son is tight with Bruce.”
“No, I’m just here for the day. I had an important meeting. You just taking in the sights?”
Edmund smirked. “Plenty of those.”
“Gotham is certainly exciting at this time of year.”
“Any time, actually. They just dress it up more during Halloween.”
Lionel drank his wine. He had been enjoying a solitary lunch but didn’t like the idea of refusing Edmund Caldwell. Of all his business associates…
…Edmund was the only one he feared.
As he ate his swordfish, he reflected on how many people would be surprised at that. Ruthless Lionel Luthor afraid of an old man?
Depends on the old man.
“So, successful?”
“Excuse me?” Lionel asked.
“I said, was your business venture successful?”
“Oh, very.” Lionel ate a forkful of rice. “I’m in the mood to celebrate. Can you recommend the best brothel in town?” He already knew the answer but it never hurt to flatter.
“The Red Velvet Swing. The quality of the whores there is positively Parisian.”
“Or Rigellian, I’ve heard.”
Edmund waved his hand. “The Rigellians make a lot of noise about their slave tradition, but we’ve got a fine one here, too.”
“The Orions have the wildest slaves, especially those green slave girls.” Lionel drank more wine. “But we certainly have established our own laws and traditions.”
The waitress brought Edmund’s entrée, deftly avoiding his groping hand.
“Anything else, sirs?”
“No, thank you,” Lionel said, hoping to get her out of the line of fire.
After she left, Edmund cut his roast beef and took a bite. “Mmm, quality.” He sipped his wine. “Just like the whores at the Swing.”
“Thank you for the recommendation, Edmund.” He was already mentally running down the list of possible companions for the evening.
“So what do you think of young Bruce being an Abo?”
“What?” Startled out of his contemplation of considerable charms, he was adrift for a moment.
“Surely you’ve seen his disgusting campaign for freeing whores.”
“I don’t think he has advocated taking off the manacles.”
Lionel buttered a wheat roll, hazel eyes watching Edmund. He had to stay on his toes around the old man.
“Of course he has. He’s being clever about it, but he’s pushing it.”
“So?”
“So?” Edmund balanced his wineglass. “Have you had too much of this?”
Lionel smiled. “He can speak all he wants. It won’t change anything.”
“If people had sense, I would agree with you.”
Lionel ate his roll. “You think people have lost their heads?”
“You know how it goes. The bleeding-hearts wail and cry, get people sobbing, pull in the Hollywood types…they’ll kick up a fuss with those fools in Congress.”
“Careful, some of those are our fools.”
Edmund chuckled in acknowledgment. “Still, some are idealists. That redhead is emerging as one of the leaders of the Abos.”
“Redhead? Oh, you mean Lana Lang.”
“Yes.” Edmund sighed. “Great legs and ass, but a stubborn streak. Pity she isn’t manacled. I’d enjoy breaking her.”
No doubt.
Lionel speared a piece of chive-sprinkled baked potato. “I’d just let it lie, Edmund. We get little flare-ups from the liberals all the time. It’ll pass like always.”
“As I said, I’d agree with you if people weren’t such fools. If the Abos gain enough steam…”
”…the Government will crush them.”
“You’re probably right.” Edmund looked appreciatively at his roast beef. “I mean, can you really envision a world in which shameless whores are given the same rights as freemen?”
“Seems unlikely, doesn’t it?”
Edmund snorted. “Highly unlikely.” He picked a roll out of the basket and cut it open. “All slaves are whores, some more than others. The bedwarmers are the worst. I can’t see decent people ever associating with such creatures even if they were freed.”
“Well, I doubt we’ll ever find out.”
“Better hope not. Your profits would plummet for sure if you had to pay wages to every worker instead of just the free ones.”
“We’d manage.” Lionel smiled. “Some companies don’t use slaves, including Wayne Enterprises.”
Edmund snorted. “Foolishness, of course.”
”I’ve found slaves to be quite useful in business.”
“They make great gifts.”
Lionel laughed. “They do, but I was talking more about assets.”
“Slaves are certainly good for menial labor.”
Lionel smiled slightly. “I was talking about intelligence.”
“Intelligence!” scoffed Edmund. “We’re talking slaves here.”
“Some are intelligent.”
“Some are crafty, my friend. There’s a difference.”
Lionel laughed. “Perhaps. But using slaves as accountants or receptionists help the bottom line. Just because the Prince of Gotham chooses not to…”
A hiss cut off Lionel, fire sparking from Edmund’s eyes. “Prince!” His hand curled into a fist. “He’s no Prince, my friend, anymore than the poseur Oliver Queen who lives on an estate he calls a castle!” Scorn dripped from his voice. “Bruce Wayne puts on airs as if he’s the King of England. His family wasn’t the only Founding Family of Gotham. Mine was here at the same time, too.”
Lionel schooled his face to remain neutral. Edmund’s vitriol was a little surprising. He knew that Edmund had a strong dislike for Bruce but hadn’t been aware of the depth of his enmity.
It was useful knowledge, but he preferred that Edmund not know that.
“Your family is certainly one of the oldest and finest in America. It could be that the tragedy of the Waynes makes their surviving son more of a tragic and attractive figure.”
“Sometimes he uses that in a rather cold-blooded way.”
Interest piqued, Lionel asked, “How so?”
“He plays the ‘poor little rich boy’ a little too often, using that tragedy to his advantage on the social scene.”
Lionel was skeptical but kept that opinion to himself. He didn’t always agree with the young Wayne, but he highly doubted that Lex’s old friend was doing what Edmund claimed. He had seen the pain in Bruce’s eyes at the mention of his parents.
”He’s a shallow, arrogant young man,” Edmund pontificated.
“Ah, weren’t we all at that age?”
Edmund didn’t reply, concentrating on his carrots, but Lionel was not fooled. The old man’s mind was working. Lionel just hoped that he could stay out of the line of fire.
Edmund savored the fresh vegetables, then said, “You’re not going soft on me, are you, Lionel?”
“Soft?” Genuinely puzzled, Lionel picked up his wineglass. “How so?”
“You seem eager to defend the slave-loving Bruce Wayne.”
“I’m sure he takes advantage of his pleasure slave quite often.”
Edmund snorted. “Whores are a dime-a-dozen.”
“This whore seems especially talented.”
“No doubt. Most sluts are.”
“Servicing his Master with his body is his job.”
Edmund’s lips curved into an unpleasant smile. “I’m sure he does it well.”
Lionel felt a little shiver go down his spine. “I’m sure,” he said, hastily taking a drink.
“Your son has a new bedslut, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, a fine Prize. He’ll probably be keeping him.”
“What a bore that must be! Always fucking the same piece of meat. I prefer a variety, myself.”
Mainly because you damage them so badly, you need replacements.
“What can I say? The boy’s sentimental.”
“Have you sampled the whore yet?”
A bit surprised himself, Lionel answered, “No.”
“What, and with your reputation of being a connisseur of slave flesh?”
Lionel thought of the one time he’d almost poached on his son’s Prize and wondered why he hadn’t tried again.
He shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”
“Care to lend me the slut?”
“He’s not my slut to lend.”
“Is your son that attached to him?”
“I think my son prefers not to share his toys.”
“You were remiss in teaching him the basics.”
Lionel grinned. “Yes, I must admit to failure in that area.”
Edmund’s expression was dreamy. “Imagine enjoying a good time with your son’s slut and that Wayne whore. All that smooth skin, just waiting to be marked…”
Lionel uneasily set his fork down. Slave mutilation always made him queasy. Despite his own appetites, he never deliberately set out to hurt those who gave him pleasure. He was no saint, but he was not a monster.
Edmund Caldwell was a sadist who held the helpless in his iron grip.
Lionel was glad that he was finished with his meal. His stomach was knotting up.
“So, will you be staying in town after your pleasure tonight?” Edmund asked.
“I’m not sure. It’s certainly an interesting time in Gotham.”
If Lionel did stay, he hoped that he could avoid Edmund.
The man made his skin crawl.
“And what about you? Enjoying the festivities?”
“My family and I will be partaking in many…pleasures…this week.” Edmund’s smile chilled Lionel. “After Halloween, we’ll be heading to our place up in the mountains. The lake is beautiful this time of year.”
“Isn’t it rather cold?”
“We don’t go to swim at this time of year. Just…family time.” Edmund’s voice grew conspiratorial. “It’s so isolated from other cabins in the woods that no one can hear you…scream.”
Lionel took a sip of wine, hoping that Edmund didn’t notice his shaking hand.
“Well, you seem to have a full schedule. As for myself, I’d better get to the Swing before it’s all booked up for the evening. If you’ll excuse me…” He rose.
Edmund saluted him with his wineglass, amusement sharp in his eyes. “Have fun.”
Lionel forced himself to walk away at a leisurely pace, though his mind was screaming, Run!
He would have to advise Lex to keep a closer eye on Jamie, especially in these crowds.
Behind him, Edmund chuckled as he cut another piece of meat.
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Author: BradyGirl_12
Pairings/Characters: (this chapter): Lionel Luthor, Edmund Caldwell
Series Notes: In the 23rd century, Earth is a technologically-advanced society that practices the ancient institution of slavery. As Bruce and Clark continue to juggle being lovers as well as Master and slave, Bruce continues his Abolitionist work, and a shocking Family Secret is revealed. Meanwhile, the Queen Family welcomes a new member, and Steve and Hal meet their Destinies, although neither one realizes it yet. The entire series can be found here.
Genres: Drama, AU
Rating: (this chapter): PG-13
Warnings: None
Spoilers: None
Summary: Lionel and Edmund have an interesting conversation over lunch.
Date Of Completion (First Draft): August 10, 2008
Date Of Posting: June 7, 2009
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, DC does, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 1734
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
"Evil can be packaged in the most mundane wrappings,
but never fear: it is there, lurking and ready to pounce."
Jexelle Mantell
Rigellian Philosopher
1066 B.C.E.
XXXV
AN IRON FIST IN A RED VELVET GLOVE
“Ahh, Halloween Week in Gotham. Nothing like it.”
Lionel looked up at the cultured voice. “Hello, Edmund.”
“May I join you?”
“Certainly.”
The older man sat down, resting his cane by the chair. Lionel’s waitress came over, taking Edmund’s drink order. As she walked away, he focused on her pert behind.
“Pity she’s not manacled,” he said with a regretful sigh.
“What, you can’t get a free waitress?”
At Lionel’s smirk, Edmund’s eyes gleamed. “It’s certainly more challenging than bedding a slave whore.”
“True. The power issues are exciting with slaves, but freemen-and-women make you work for it.”
“Mmm.” Edmund scanned the menu. “So, are you staying at the Manor? Your son is tight with Bruce.”
“No, I’m just here for the day. I had an important meeting. You just taking in the sights?”
Edmund smirked. “Plenty of those.”
“Gotham is certainly exciting at this time of year.”
“Any time, actually. They just dress it up more during Halloween.”
Lionel drank his wine. He had been enjoying a solitary lunch but didn’t like the idea of refusing Edmund Caldwell. Of all his business associates…
…Edmund was the only one he feared.
As he ate his swordfish, he reflected on how many people would be surprised at that. Ruthless Lionel Luthor afraid of an old man?
Depends on the old man.
“So, successful?”
“Excuse me?” Lionel asked.
“I said, was your business venture successful?”
“Oh, very.” Lionel ate a forkful of rice. “I’m in the mood to celebrate. Can you recommend the best brothel in town?” He already knew the answer but it never hurt to flatter.
“The Red Velvet Swing. The quality of the whores there is positively Parisian.”
“Or Rigellian, I’ve heard.”
Edmund waved his hand. “The Rigellians make a lot of noise about their slave tradition, but we’ve got a fine one here, too.”
“The Orions have the wildest slaves, especially those green slave girls.” Lionel drank more wine. “But we certainly have established our own laws and traditions.”
The waitress brought Edmund’s entrée, deftly avoiding his groping hand.
“Anything else, sirs?”
“No, thank you,” Lionel said, hoping to get her out of the line of fire.
After she left, Edmund cut his roast beef and took a bite. “Mmm, quality.” He sipped his wine. “Just like the whores at the Swing.”
“Thank you for the recommendation, Edmund.” He was already mentally running down the list of possible companions for the evening.
“So what do you think of young Bruce being an Abo?”
“What?” Startled out of his contemplation of considerable charms, he was adrift for a moment.
“Surely you’ve seen his disgusting campaign for freeing whores.”
“I don’t think he has advocated taking off the manacles.”
Lionel buttered a wheat roll, hazel eyes watching Edmund. He had to stay on his toes around the old man.
“Of course he has. He’s being clever about it, but he’s pushing it.”
“So?”
“So?” Edmund balanced his wineglass. “Have you had too much of this?”
Lionel smiled. “He can speak all he wants. It won’t change anything.”
“If people had sense, I would agree with you.”
Lionel ate his roll. “You think people have lost their heads?”
“You know how it goes. The bleeding-hearts wail and cry, get people sobbing, pull in the Hollywood types…they’ll kick up a fuss with those fools in Congress.”
“Careful, some of those are our fools.”
Edmund chuckled in acknowledgment. “Still, some are idealists. That redhead is emerging as one of the leaders of the Abos.”
“Redhead? Oh, you mean Lana Lang.”
“Yes.” Edmund sighed. “Great legs and ass, but a stubborn streak. Pity she isn’t manacled. I’d enjoy breaking her.”
No doubt.
Lionel speared a piece of chive-sprinkled baked potato. “I’d just let it lie, Edmund. We get little flare-ups from the liberals all the time. It’ll pass like always.”
“As I said, I’d agree with you if people weren’t such fools. If the Abos gain enough steam…”
”…the Government will crush them.”
“You’re probably right.” Edmund looked appreciatively at his roast beef. “I mean, can you really envision a world in which shameless whores are given the same rights as freemen?”
“Seems unlikely, doesn’t it?”
Edmund snorted. “Highly unlikely.” He picked a roll out of the basket and cut it open. “All slaves are whores, some more than others. The bedwarmers are the worst. I can’t see decent people ever associating with such creatures even if they were freed.”
“Well, I doubt we’ll ever find out.”
“Better hope not. Your profits would plummet for sure if you had to pay wages to every worker instead of just the free ones.”
“We’d manage.” Lionel smiled. “Some companies don’t use slaves, including Wayne Enterprises.”
Edmund snorted. “Foolishness, of course.”
”I’ve found slaves to be quite useful in business.”
“They make great gifts.”
Lionel laughed. “They do, but I was talking more about assets.”
“Slaves are certainly good for menial labor.”
Lionel smiled slightly. “I was talking about intelligence.”
“Intelligence!” scoffed Edmund. “We’re talking slaves here.”
“Some are intelligent.”
“Some are crafty, my friend. There’s a difference.”
Lionel laughed. “Perhaps. But using slaves as accountants or receptionists help the bottom line. Just because the Prince of Gotham chooses not to…”
A hiss cut off Lionel, fire sparking from Edmund’s eyes. “Prince!” His hand curled into a fist. “He’s no Prince, my friend, anymore than the poseur Oliver Queen who lives on an estate he calls a castle!” Scorn dripped from his voice. “Bruce Wayne puts on airs as if he’s the King of England. His family wasn’t the only Founding Family of Gotham. Mine was here at the same time, too.”
Lionel schooled his face to remain neutral. Edmund’s vitriol was a little surprising. He knew that Edmund had a strong dislike for Bruce but hadn’t been aware of the depth of his enmity.
It was useful knowledge, but he preferred that Edmund not know that.
“Your family is certainly one of the oldest and finest in America. It could be that the tragedy of the Waynes makes their surviving son more of a tragic and attractive figure.”
“Sometimes he uses that in a rather cold-blooded way.”
Interest piqued, Lionel asked, “How so?”
“He plays the ‘poor little rich boy’ a little too often, using that tragedy to his advantage on the social scene.”
Lionel was skeptical but kept that opinion to himself. He didn’t always agree with the young Wayne, but he highly doubted that Lex’s old friend was doing what Edmund claimed. He had seen the pain in Bruce’s eyes at the mention of his parents.
”He’s a shallow, arrogant young man,” Edmund pontificated.
“Ah, weren’t we all at that age?”
Edmund didn’t reply, concentrating on his carrots, but Lionel was not fooled. The old man’s mind was working. Lionel just hoped that he could stay out of the line of fire.
Edmund savored the fresh vegetables, then said, “You’re not going soft on me, are you, Lionel?”
“Soft?” Genuinely puzzled, Lionel picked up his wineglass. “How so?”
“You seem eager to defend the slave-loving Bruce Wayne.”
“I’m sure he takes advantage of his pleasure slave quite often.”
Edmund snorted. “Whores are a dime-a-dozen.”
“This whore seems especially talented.”
“No doubt. Most sluts are.”
“Servicing his Master with his body is his job.”
Edmund’s lips curved into an unpleasant smile. “I’m sure he does it well.”
Lionel felt a little shiver go down his spine. “I’m sure,” he said, hastily taking a drink.
“Your son has a new bedslut, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, a fine Prize. He’ll probably be keeping him.”
“What a bore that must be! Always fucking the same piece of meat. I prefer a variety, myself.”
Mainly because you damage them so badly, you need replacements.
“What can I say? The boy’s sentimental.”
“Have you sampled the whore yet?”
A bit surprised himself, Lionel answered, “No.”
“What, and with your reputation of being a connisseur of slave flesh?”
Lionel thought of the one time he’d almost poached on his son’s Prize and wondered why he hadn’t tried again.
He shrugged. “I’ve been busy.”
“Care to lend me the slut?”
“He’s not my slut to lend.”
“Is your son that attached to him?”
“I think my son prefers not to share his toys.”
“You were remiss in teaching him the basics.”
Lionel grinned. “Yes, I must admit to failure in that area.”
Edmund’s expression was dreamy. “Imagine enjoying a good time with your son’s slut and that Wayne whore. All that smooth skin, just waiting to be marked…”
Lionel uneasily set his fork down. Slave mutilation always made him queasy. Despite his own appetites, he never deliberately set out to hurt those who gave him pleasure. He was no saint, but he was not a monster.
Edmund Caldwell was a sadist who held the helpless in his iron grip.
Lionel was glad that he was finished with his meal. His stomach was knotting up.
“So, will you be staying in town after your pleasure tonight?” Edmund asked.
“I’m not sure. It’s certainly an interesting time in Gotham.”
If Lionel did stay, he hoped that he could avoid Edmund.
The man made his skin crawl.
“And what about you? Enjoying the festivities?”
“My family and I will be partaking in many…pleasures…this week.” Edmund’s smile chilled Lionel. “After Halloween, we’ll be heading to our place up in the mountains. The lake is beautiful this time of year.”
“Isn’t it rather cold?”
“We don’t go to swim at this time of year. Just…family time.” Edmund’s voice grew conspiratorial. “It’s so isolated from other cabins in the woods that no one can hear you…scream.”
Lionel took a sip of wine, hoping that Edmund didn’t notice his shaking hand.
“Well, you seem to have a full schedule. As for myself, I’d better get to the Swing before it’s all booked up for the evening. If you’ll excuse me…” He rose.
Edmund saluted him with his wineglass, amusement sharp in his eyes. “Have fun.”
Lionel forced himself to walk away at a leisurely pace, though his mind was screaming, Run!
He would have to advise Lex to keep a closer eye on Jamie, especially in these crowds.
Behind him, Edmund chuckled as he cut another piece of meat.
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