To say Max was a loss for words was an understatement about what just happened.  All he could do was stand there and stare right back into Rimion’s eyes.  Max could not believe that the playful man that was there a moment ago was completely gone.  All Max was doing was giving Rimion something that he wanted, or so he thought.  He was trying to assert his control over him.<br/><br/>Max could not help but take a step back and grab a hold of the counter that was behind him to help support him so he wouldn’t fall over.  One would think he was afraid of Rimion, but that was not true it was like he was being shown his life from someone else’s eyes.  If anyone would understand why Rimion was the way he was, it would be Max.  Max became the sadist, because he refused to be beaten any more.  He beat people because he would take out all the frustration he had built up over the years from when he was the slave.<br/><br/>His years as a slave was the reason he had the things he had for his slaves.  This incident in the kitchen was the first time he had ever attacked a slave anywhere but the basement before, but he was trying to give Rimion what he thought he wanted.    It just struck Max right in his own heart listening to Rimion go off and if Max would have tears he would have had a couple.  He had not cried in years.  Once Rimion was done he turned and walked away from Max and he heard him go out the door.  Max didn’t think he would leave so he was not really worried, but he gave him about 15 minutes and then he followed him outside.  He saw him sitting on the stump that was in his back yard overlooking the forest line.<br/><br/>Max could not help but walk up behind Rimion and didn’t touch him, just stared at him for a minute.  He crossed his arms and took a deep breath before he started to talk.  He was about to admit something that he never admitted to anyone.  “I always hated the monsters, the cold floors, empty stomachs, scars all over my body.  Some that should have had stitches but I wasn’t worth the money to mend me.  They could have cared less if I was sick, hurt badly it didn’t matter.”  Max sighed, “I swore no one would ever beat me again, so I did the beating myself.  I know what it is like to enjoy the beatings, the need, and the requirement.  The craving for attention even if it was bad.”  Max sighed and then turned around, “But I swore I would never treat my slaves the way I was treated, I want the control, but I never want to physically hurt someone to the point they can’t take it.”  Max finished then turned around and walked back into the house and went into the living room over to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a whiskey.