#domstart

Growing up with money, there was one person, and only one, that the young Armand Duval could count on. That was the butler, employed some time after his siblings died. His parents felt it was much more important, since very clearly, their son could not be trusted alone. It was a gesture of punishment, but Armand never saw it that way. He loved the butler very much. In fact, he was the only one that cared for him after every punishment.

He wasn’t even bothered when his parents realized he didn’t think the butler a punishment, and had granted permission, and even requested for him to punish the rebellious boy. It was then that Armand learned that his parents were far too cruel. Punishments from his butler were far from scary. He was only afraid when his parents did it instead.

The boy had faced many difficulties, and the butler was always there to help. He even helped him through his father’s funeral. However, the butler could not help him any further, when Armand’s mother kicked him out. The sixteen year old had no idea how to fend for himself. He’d had material items handed to him, and he’d been catered to since as long as he could remember. The only thing he’d ever lacked was the love of a parent, and then he had nothing. 

He was permitted to return home upon finding out about his mother’s suicide. She had left a will, giving the teen the estate and the business, and everything they contained. He was thankful of that, but more thankful still that his butler was still there.

It wasn’t long, though, before Armand grew aggravated with having to continue his parents’ business and handle their affairs. He wasn’t ready for responsibility, and he didn’t want it. All he wanted was to throw big, fun parties, with drugs, and alcohol, and sexy dancers. Of course, his butler advised him against it, and Armand obeyed, for fear of losing the Duval estate.

By 17, however, as the stress built up, Armand had started to show less respect to his hero. He called him names, and was bordering on verbally abusive- just like his father. He’d thrown tantrums, and shouted profanities. He had far too many responsibilities. And one night, he could no longer deal with his butler giving him restrictions.

“Shut the fuck up! Who the fuck do you think you are, anyway?!” snarled the spoiled brat. “You work for me! You don’t get to tell me what to do. I’m not throwing a stupid dinner party, and be all fancy for a bunch of snobs still weeping over my father,” he growled. “If you hadn’t worked here for so long, I would fire you. You trouble me.”