A hard hand closed over his shoulder and he whirled around, elbow out at face-height—
Nikolai.
Mat couldn’t stop the momentum of his arm in time, so he threw himself back a step, lost his balance and stumbled into the heavy bag.
Jesus, how had Nikolai gotten in here without Mat noticing?
Nikolai said nothing as he folded his arms across his chest and raised an eyebrow at Mat’s bleeding knuckles.
“What?” Mat snarled, and before he could react, Nikolai caught him by one wrist, twisted his arm up behind his back until his hand was between his shoulder blades, and grabbed him by the neck to shove him down face-first into the bed. Once he was bent over the edge of the mattress, the hand on the back of his neck let go—wasn’t necessary anymore since the one twisting his arm was pinning him just fucking fine—and tore away his flimsy athletic shorts.
“Your new master won’t be able to control you like this.” Mat snorted. Nikolai was only managing it because he was letting him. “You must make the choice to go willingly. As you’re making the choice now not to fight back, despite us both knowing you could win.”
“What choice?” Mat snarled. “After what you said you’d do to Dougie if—”
Nikolai wrenched his hand up higher. “Forget about Douglas. Did you have a good think, Mathias? Did you make your list? Have you found something of your own to live for?”
After a sort, he supposed. And now he wished he hadn’t written it down. What had he been thinking, giving Nikolai ammunition like that? He said nothing. Let the man find the paper if he wanted to. At least then he’d have to let go of Mat’s arm.
Nikolai smoothed his free hand over Mat’s ass. Not a warm touch. Assessing, maybe. Mat shuddered beneath it. “You’re very muscular here, compared to your brother. But then, I’m keeping him soft.”
Provoking you. He’s trying to provoke you. Don’t speak. Don’t move. Don’t let him win.
The stroking hand grew firmer, slipped between his cheeks, spread him apart.
“Good,” Mat said. “Rape me and get it over with.” Better him than Dougie. Always better.
“I’m not a rapist,” and holy shit, was that a chink in Nikolai’s armor? Had Mat upset the fucker? “You’ll come to me of your own accord. I’ve no need to force.”
Mat snorted again. “Yeah, which is why you’ve got me bent over the bed in an arm lock with your hand wedged in my ass crack.”
Mat could imagine no response to that jab that wouldn’t end in violence, but Nikolai surprised him by . . . laughing? “I see you’re back to your old self again,” Nikolai said. “How delightful.” And weirdly, he sounded like he meant that. The hand in his ass crack left, scraped over Mat’s bloody knuckles. Mat hissed. “And in answer to your accusation, no. I have you bent over the bed in an arm lock because I intend to whip you. Do you remember what I said about damaging my property?”
“Wh—”
“Do keep up. You are my property. Your body is my property. I gave you the things in this room to help you stay fit and strong and healthy. Not to damage yourself out of some pathetic teenage boy’s rebellion. If you’re determined to be in pain, then I’ll give you pain, but on my terms. No lasting damage. Absolutely no scarring. But pain. Did you break your hands?”
“I don’t want to be in pain.”
Nikolai wrenched Mat’s hand up so high between his shoulders he cried out.
“Did. You. Break. Your. Hands?”
“No! No, they’re fine, just cut, God, let go or you’re gonna break my arm!”
The pressure eased a tiny bit. Enough, though, for Mat not to worry about his body doing something stupid without his brain’s permission. He sucked in a shuddering breath, tried to relax his muscles.
“If I let go, will you be a good little pet and hold still?”
“I’m holding still now, aren’t I?” Mat snapped. They both knew what he meant, too, he was sure of that.
Nikolai let go.
Mat’s arm flopped painfully to his side, but he left it where it lay. He held still.
“Now stay. Disobey me and you won’t like the consequences.”
Consequences. That fucking word again. If he ever—no, when he got out of this hellhole, it wouldn’t be enough to just save Dougie, or even to tear down this whole sick operation in his wake. No. He’d kill Nikolai. That thought gave him the strength to stay in place as Nikolai crossed the room, over to the table where Mat had left his list.
“Hmm,” Nikolai said, but all Mat could focus on was the unmistakable clink of a belt being unbuckled and then the whisper of leather pulled across fine woolen fabric.
He’s going to belt me. Like a bad child.
“Oh, this is interesting.” The swiffing sound of a piece of paper sliding across a smooth surface. Mat couldn’t decide if it was better or worse than the sound of Nikolai’s belt sliding from its loops. No doubt they’d both hurt him. He just wasn’t sure how yet.
“Winning, Mathias? Really? How very sad and confrontational to live a life whose meaning inherently hinges on someone else losing.” Footsteps. Nikolai drawing closer. Right next to him, now, though Mat kept his eyes forward, didn’t look. “Yet another thing outside yourself. Like Douglas—whom I see from all the boxes and underlines you’re still quite fervent about,” he added dryly. “So tell me, Mathias . . .” Fingertips brushed over his ass again, there and gone, and then a loud crack and a stripe of fire followed in their wake. Mat jerked, shouted—it was unexpected, that was all. He hadn’t been prepared for it. “How does one win at this?”
By not giving you the satisfaction of knowing you’ve hurt me, fucker. By not letting it break me again like it did before. By not letting you scare me with it.
All of which was a lot easier to think when Nikolai wasn’t hitting him. It got bad fast. Very, very fast. And Nikolai wasn’t stopping this time. Maybe Mat should’ve answered him out loud. Maybe Nikolai figured Mat didn’t feel like chatting so why bother with more words. Another strike. Another. Another. Ten, twelve, fifteen. He lost count. Couldn’t think. Needed to buy some fucking time.
“You—” he gasped between one hit and the next.
Nikolai paused, thank fucking God. “Yes?”
“You outlast it.”
“Fair enough. So say your endurance outlasts my energy to hit you. What if when I’m tired I give you the serum? What if you outlast five hours of pain, and I give you another, and another? Do you win then?”
Mat didn’t know how to reply to that without conceding the point. Nikolai went back to beating his ass like the belt might somehow knock the answer out of him. God, couldn’t he hit him somewhere else? Felt like he was being fucking flayed alive. He squirmed, shifted—holding still was impossible now anyway—hoping to make the belt land anywhere but on that same patch of napalm-slick skin—
“I asked you a question, boy. I expect an answer. And while my aim is impeccable, I assure you, if you don’t hold still, I’ll end up hitting something I shouldn’t. Your spine. A kidney. Your balls. Do you want that?”
“No,” he rasped, and it was a fucking miracle he could get the word out without letting loose the scream behind it. “I don’t . . . I don’t know what then. I’d keep going, I guess. Hang on.”
Nikolai drove the belt down again, right across the brightest mass of agony on his left buttock. Mat screamed. “Like you are now? Does this feel like winning?” Another strike. Another. Mat screamed again, balled the bedcovers in his fists, ground them between his teeth. They were damp beneath his cheeks. More than sweat.
His screams must have been reply enough, because Nikolai said, softly, “Perhaps you need to reconsider what it means to win here, Mathias.”
“I can’t win,” he moaned into the bed. “That’s what you want to hear, right? That I can fight and fight and fight but you’re always going to be—”
Nikolai rubbed what he probably thought were soothing circles over the skin of Mat’s ass, his touch lighting a path of
fire. Or maybe he didn’t think they were soothing at all, maybe he was only pretending they were. Mimicking kindness and acting out cruelty. Fucker. “Yes?” Nikolai asked.
And God, all Mat wanted to do was tell him what he wanted to hear, say whatever would make the pain stop. “You’re always going to be . . .” In charge. In control. One step ahead of me.
My master. He almost puked just thinking it.
Nikolai belted him again, three times in rapid succession. “Finish your sentence.”
“This game is rigged,” Mat gasped out. “Can’t fight back, can’t win. You win. Always.”
The rubbing hand came back, and Mat clenched his watering eyes shut and pressed his face into the blanket, trying not to whimper loudly enough for Nikolai to hear. “You know,” Nikolai said, “winning doesn’t always mean being the alpha dog. It doesn’t always mean fighting. Or . . .” A pause, one finger trailing musingly up his ass to the small of his back. “Or maybe you don’t know. Let me share something with you, Mathias. Something you can use when you leave here: Sometimes winning isn’t about fighting; it’s about not fighting. It’s about understanding what your opponent wants. And maybe you’ll find a way to keep it from him without him noticing, or maybe you’ll find a way to give it to him that costs you nothing. Either way, you win. You win and he doesn’t even know he’s lost. Which is a win in and of itself.”
Yeah, you would say that.
Was Nikolai mindfucking Dougie this way, too? God, at least Dougie was smart enough—had the background, too—to see what this was and withstand it. Mat was doomed. If he ever got out, he’d be a fucking mental patient. Irreparable. Beyond recognition.
No.
Stronger. Smarter. Tougher.
“Do you truly think I’m trying to . . . to what, Mathias? Con you? What could I possibly have to gain from teaching you to undermine my own authority? Think about it. What do I want here? Right now, in this moment. Why am I here?”
“To fuck with me?” And yeah, he could take that however he wanted because it’d probably be right.
Nikolai sighed, took a single step back, and let Mat have it with the belt again. Five, six, maybe seven strikes, impossible to tell—just one giant knot of heat and pain and noise. “Try again,” he said when he’d finished. “Do mind the consequences of mocking my efforts.”
What did he fucking want? “I don’t know, okay? I don’t know!”
“You do.” Stern now, like a disappointed father. Mat was halfway to begging him not to hit him again before he caught himself and shoved that bullshit down deep. He hurt so much. He was so fucking tired of hurting.
Nikolai touched gentle fingers to his burning ass again. “What are we doing now?”
“Talking?”
“Yes!” Now the pleased father. “About what?”
Winning. Dougie. Your property. It hit him then, clear as the belt. “The list,” he said, and his relief was so huge he nearly choked on it. “My list. Things to live for.”
“Very good,” Nikolai said. Practically crooned. “So I’m here to understand you, yes? And perhaps to help you understand yourself? So we might both learn what motivates you?”
“Sure, why not.”
Nikolai hit him again. He supposed he’d seen that coming.
“So how can you give me that without it costing you anything? Or not give me that without me knowing?”
Lie. I can lie. But Jesus, no way could he say that out loud. Nikolai wouldn’t like it . . . would he?
Nikolai stepped into Mat’s field of vision, squatted until they were face to face. “I see the answer in your eyes, Mathias. Don’t be afraid. Carry it with you, and hold it close, and when you’re gone from here, use it when you can.” He stood, patted Mat’s shoulder. “Never with me, of course. I can’t help you if you lie to me. And if I catch you . . .” He shook his head. Tsked.
“Consequences?” Mat said.
“What do you know,” Nikolai said with a grin. “The boy learns.” He circled back to the foot of the bed, out of Mat’s eyesight, skimmed fingertips over the throbbing skin of his ass. “And what if I wanted to fuck you now, Mathias? How would you give me that without losing?”
Shit. Of course. Of course it was going to lead to that. “I guess it’d depend why you wanted to fuck me,” he said. “Hurt me? Humiliate me? Put me in my place?”
“Because I’m sexually frustrated, frankly,” Nikolai replied, cheerfully candid.
Because you can’t fuck my brother? Please please please be for that reason.
“I think it’s safe to say that most of the time, your master will simply wish to see his own desires satisfied. Sometimes he may wish to entertain guests, or his own cruelty. It’s not as if you can ask him, though. You must learn to gauge this on your own. But seeing as I’m enjoying our new honesty with each other, this time you know. So what will you do with that knowledge?”
“Suck you,” Mat said, like some fucking epiphany, and in truth, it kind of was. He risked a tiny movement—turned his head to look toward Nikolai. When this didn’t result in consequences, he grew bolder, dragged himself onto his hands and knees on the mattress and turned around, parted his lips and licked them as seductively as he knew how. “I want to suck you. I want to taste your cock on my tongue. I want to feel you come down my throat. Please, let me. Let me show you how good I can make it. You’ll blow your load so hard you won’t know what hit you.”
“That’s not winning,” Nikolai chided, and it looked like it pained him to say. The dirty talk hadn’t missed its mark, though; he was clearly hard underneath his stupid expensive pants. But his face had hardened too. “That’s bargaining. If I want your ass, you’ll give me that. No substitutions.”
Oh, fuck him. Mat sat back on his haunches—ow, fuck, bad idea—rose up to his knees and crossed his arms lest he start pointing at the fucker. “Who are you to say what is and isn’t winning for me, huh? Sure, bargaining, maybe. But if I can trade a shitty thing that does hurt for a shitty thing that doesn’t, isn’t that all the more power to me?”
“Who said my fucking you has to hurt? Do you think I’m some kind of barbarian? What if I were a lover instead of your master, what then? How would you have me fuck you then?”
“Oh, so my new master is going to be concerned with my pleasure? Somehow I doubt that.”
“You could make him be, Mathias, that’s what I’m trying to tell you. Yes, sometimes he may wish to hurt you. He may wish to be brutal, to hear you scream. And in those times, if you give that to him—if you don’t make him fight you for your pain, if you let him hear you—it will hurt less and be over faster. He’ll have no reason to try so hard. But other times? You can seduce, Mathias. Your body is a masterpiece. You’re a handsome man. He might not be concerned with your pleasure, but if you give him your pleasure, willingly, then he may happily receive it. So flatter him. Entice him. Try to convince him that what you want is what he wants.”
“I don’t want any of this,” Mat said, but it came out a petulant mumble, like a teenage boy who knew he’d lost but couldn’t quite give up his pride yet. Pathetic. Nikolai said nothing, of course. Wouldn’t dignify something like that with an answer. Simply stood there waiting, more patiently than Mat suspected a “slave” like him had any right to hope for.
Mat scrubbed at his face with both hands, sank down to the bed until he’d curled on his side facing Nikolai. Too tired to keep upright. Too worn down. “I just . . . You can’t seriously expect me to look my rapist in the eye and say, ‘Oh yeah, just like that, cowboy.’”
“A moment ago, you begged to suck my cock. I hardly see the difference.”
Yeah, come to think of it, neither did Mat. Jesus, what had he been thinking?
“I shouldn’t have done that. I wouldn’t have, even. Not for myself, not for . . .” For Dougie. “But I was in pain. I wasn’t thinking straight. I am now.”
Except, that was a lie. He would’ve done it for Dougie. But Nikolai didn’t need to know that.
> Dougie. That was why Nikolai was sexually frustrated, because for whatever reason, he wasn’t fucking Dougie. Wasn’t getting his kicks from Dougie. And no way was Mat going to throw his little brother under the bus to spare his own pride.
“That’s no way to live, Mathias.” And damn it all, but Nikolai looked like he meant it too. Like the idea that Mat might choose to suffer really bothered him. “Forget about winning for the moment. And for God’s sake, forget about your brother—I can see your concern for him written all over your perfectly transparent face. There was one more item on your list, Mathias. Do you remember what it said?”
Get the fuck out of here. Burn this whole place down. Burn down the entire world, if that’s what it takes. “Help people,” Mat said.
Nikolai nodded. “And do you think you can be of any help to anyone if you’ve been beaten so badly you can barely stand? If your master is so angry with you that he keeps you on the serum indefinitely?”
Mat swallowed hard, but said nothing. A thought like that was too big to wrap his head around. Too terrifying to contemplate as a thing that could actually happen.
“Look at you. You can’t even help yourself like this. I may not force you, but your future master will. He’ll hurt you, Mathias. He’ll tear you. He’ll make you bleed. If you can’t steer his intentions, you won’t survive them. So show me, Mathias. Show me you understand how to play this game. Show me you understand how to win. I can’t in good conscience turn you over to him until you do.”
Damn him for genuinely making Mat never want to leave him. Because as much as Mat wanted to believe there couldn’t be anything worse than this, he knew that wasn’t true. There was always worse. Better the devil you know.
Please don’t send me away, he’d beg, if he were a weaker man. (A smarter man?) But he wasn’t. He was just Mat. “You wouldn’t know good fucking conscience if Jiminy Cricket slapped you in the face with his dick.”
Nikolai frowned, lifted the belt and folded it, hooked his thumb in the loop end and gave it a hard snap that made Mat jump—much to his shame. It was just noise. Just fucking noise. “Are we back to this, again, Mathias? Pride? Truly? I thought we’d sorted that.”
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