Chapter Text
Sherlock:
In the bathroom, alone with John again finally, I ask softly, tentatively, “What did the two of you discuss?”
John shrugs almost casually. He’s very calm considering we were just locked in the presence of a raving lunatic and his devoted partner not twenty minutes prior. He glances at my reflection in the mirror as he washes blood- my blood- off the wire loop in his hands. “He said he won’t reveal our identities.”
“If?” I ask. I know there must be a condition on which this all hangs.
Sighing, John shakes off the loop and dries it on a hand towel. He tears open an alcohol towelette package and wipes it with this as well. “IF we go along with whatever it is he has planned. Don’t ask what the Hell that means because I don’t know exactly. He says he will not reveal us, harm us or interfere in your investigation of the murder IF we simply does as he asks until we are extracted.”
It’s my turn to sigh, “How magnanimous of him.”
“Oh I agree, Sherlock. He is UP to something but I don’t see what we can do about it. He has us by the balls… literally… not figuratively.”
He turns to regard me. There is something just a touch harder in his bearing and look. What we have gone through here has already brought a change. I’m certain this is his military background coming into play now, not his sweet Dom nature. He has a mission and he’s determined to get us through this. I feel much better. I’m certain I will feel safe entrusting my life in his hands. I feel the desire to submit to him even now but that can wait. We have such little precious time to communicate. I mean we can’t live in the bathroom forever.
“He said that the next gathering will be at 8 am. He’ll come for us himself and he’ll work with me on stage… drop that look, Sherlock. We don’t have a choice in the matter and he’ll work with Sebastian, not you, in any case. I made it very clear to him that I would rather die than see you fucked by anyone else and I will defend us- the case be damned!”
I snorted, “Took that well, did he?”
“He’s insane, Sherlock or just so bright he can’t control himself. In any case, he laughed it off with a shrug and said he’d expect no less of an adversary.”
“I don’t trust him.”
John scoots around me to look at my backside. I twitch when he touches the welts there. “I know you don’t, Sherlock. Neither do I. But he could have easily alerted the Masters and did not… yet… let’s see what happens. Stop squirming away, I need to clean this with antiseptic. Back into the shower.”
“Speaking of shower…”
“Nothing happened. He stripped, showered alone… we had our discussion around the door frame. NOTHING happened between us, Sherlock. I will NEVER, EVER be with anyone else but you.”
Reassured, I enter the shower and hand him the Hiba-Cleanse foaming soap as he turns on the spray jets. The water and application of foamy bubbles brings tears to the corners of my eyes from the sting. John is as gentle as he can be but is thorough in cleaning it all.
He tisks at me like you might at a disobeying child, “Hopefully this won’t get infected. But you do look well punished now, I must admit.”
I look him in the eyes, uncertain, “Not enough for the offense of murder, John.”
He grabs my chin and yanks my head forward in a kiss. Speaking around my lips he shushes me then reiterates, “Moriarty mentioned that too. He said he will handle it in the morning. So let’s get this cleaned and get some rest. I simply cannot handle any more worry for today.”
“I trust you, John… Master.”
With a curt nod, he turns me back around and cleans me with a second round of soap. Once he is satisfied I am not bleeding any longer, he dries me and leads me silently into the bedroom.
Climbing into the large bed after me, he holds me close and whispers in my ear, “I love you, Sherlock Holmes and I plan on marrying you when we get home. Just you remember that.”
I nuzzle my head into his hair and whisper back, “Is that a threat?”
His body trembles as he tries not to laugh out loud. Instead he says softly to me, “You are an idiot.”
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
Sherlock:
I normally don’t sleep very well, just my nature, I guess. But I am startled awake the next morning by a knock on the bedroom door. John is already sitting up in bed next to me, gun in hand. The man has lightning reflexes. He relaxes somewhat when he remembers where we are and what is supposed to happen. He gives me a look that sends me scurrying to the floor- a more proper place for a slave- then he tosses on a robe to answer the door. As promised (threatened?), it is Master M and Sebastian in tow on his leash.
“Good morning, Master Harry!” The maniac announces happily. He hugs-actually hugs- John who to my relief makes no move to embrace him back.
“How much time do I have to get ready?” John asks firmly, taking a step backwards. Moriarty’s smirk becomes a leer as he catches sight of me. Unlike a true slave, I glare back at him. I don’t realize my mistake until John, in Master mode, spies me being disrespectful and rounds on me viciously.
He grabs my hair and drags me, whimpering, to Moriarty’s feet and shoves my head upon his shoes. “Start licking, Fuckwad, or I’ll break your fucking nose for being disrespectful!”
A chill runs down my spine at his tone. He’s not playing around. He’s holding my head in place with my nose pressed hard in the expensive Italian leather. Moriarty’s chuckle is deep and wicked. The desire to kill him is so strong it makes my body tremble in rage. His fucking pet, Seb, is hovering over me, I feel his presence watching me. I’m certain if I do give in to my base instinct and try to harm his beloved Master in any way, he’d be in between us in an instant.
I swallow my pride and lap at the lunatic’s shoe. As I do so I feel John’s pressure against my head begin to lighten. Finally, he stands up and steps back. I feel his eyes upon me still. I press my tongue to leather and do a better job just from wanting to please him. It doesn’t matter if this is Moriarty, George or some stranger. I’m doing this because John has ordered it. Somehow it makes it ok. John will be pleased with me.
When both shoes are cleaned, I lay my head at Master M’s feet and wait. Both Masters ignore me as they talk over the day’s schedule above me; their voices becoming almost white noise. Sebby however takes an interest. I guess he’s bored. He snuffles at my hair and growling possessively, actually manages to get me to back away slightly from his master’s feet. I risk a tiny sideways glance at him. Seb snarls at me and then rubs his head against Moriarty’s leg like a big cat. If I wasn’t afraid of John’s wrath I would have laughed. He then leans down and cleans off both shoes as though he can’t stand MY scent on his Master’s footwear. I roll my eyes. Whatever, dude, you are crazy. Except when I think about it, he’s showing a deep, profound connection with his Master. I want that. I skootch my body slowly to John’s and press against him. His hand scratches my head as he talks a few last details over with Moriarty.
Finally, John calls me to follow him into the bathroom so that he may get dressed. I hear Moriarty give a command to Seb to sit so I assume the Master will wait in the chair by the window again. In the bathroom John graciously allows me to rise and use the facilities as I need to- I’m grateful for this simple act. Most slaves end up having to wet themselves or their cages. A toilet is a luxury and to be allowed to clean yourself- your hair, your teeth and your own body without someone causing you more pain and humiliation is almost unheard of. John showers and dresses himself in a lovely suit that makes me drool. My Master is sexy as fuck and strong; exuding command and military style leadership.
He leads me from the bathroom and when we enter the bedroom, we again stop short. Moriarty has Sebastian over his lap and is smacking his flinching ass hard. Seb is taking it remarkably well considering he’s being hit at such a quick pace with no time to recover.
“Hmmm, get out of hand again?” John inquires smugly.
Moriarty glances up at him and shrugs, “He’s been pushing for petting too FUCKING much for my taste! He knows better! I think he’s just a bit jealous of your slave and he thinks he deserves more of my attention. Well, now you have my FULL attention, PET. You’ve been quite a naughty dog! I’ll pet you and give you my attention when I FUCKING WANT TO!”
Seb hangs his head at his Master’s words and trembles as the hiding continues. His ass is a dark red and anyone, even a pain slut with a high tolerance of pain, will give in to the need to move and beg. I’m correct. Seb begins to kick his feet trying to cover at least his sit spots from his Master’s harsh blows. Of course it’s no use. Moriarty simply pins them with his own leg. “Stop that struggle at once! Or I’ll get out the metal loop!”
Seb howls in fear at the mention of that implement and even I shiver at its mention. I turn my head away from the sight and bury my face in John’s leg. With a grunt, he corrects me by shoving me away with his leg. “You’ll watch, faggot. This is a good demonstration of the level of absolute obedience I expect from you!”
Sebastian is struggling to stay still over his Master’s lap now and as he cries out, he clutches at the chair’s leg in desperation. I am forced to observe his punishment and I am feeling torn. On one hand, this is an enemy and I feel he deserves this pain and far worse. On the other hand, he’s a fellow slave and I feel for his suffering. I find that I am whimpering softly as I watch Seb’s submission. Finally, he’s collapses across Moriarty’s lap and sobs uncontrollably. A few harsh swats later, it is over. Seb stays in place, covering his face in his hands. It’s unnerving to see such a big, strong man utterly destroyed by a simple over the knee spanking. Moriarty does nothing to soothe him and rather abruptly tips him off his lap.
Seb crawls away to the corner, his head nearly touching a wall, and continues to cry in misery. God, I’m shaking. His pain- and yes, his abject sadness at failing- is triggering my fear. I feel when Master M’s attention is on me and I back towards John’s protection. Moriarty’s laugh sounds so cruel. I know that’s maybe just MY perception, being naked on the floor colors everything darkly but it makes my skin produce goose bumps instantly. His voice drips with poison, “Come here, FREAK, I think you could use some color on your ass as well.”
He can’t mean me. I know he does. I risk a tiny fraction of a second look up at John. He’s not even surprised by Moriarty’s order! Perhaps they had discussed it already at some point. Since John does not utter an objection or counter order I must obey. My whole body fights me as I creep forward on my hands and knees. Tears are already falling. I’ve faced this man in life and death situations! Now here I am submitting to his will. I feel gutted and terrified.
Seb has turned his head and is watching me as I take my place ass up over his master’s lap. There is an internal hurt there; I see tears of frustration and anger join the ones from the spanking. He’s completely, insanely jealous. His master has noticed of course. He calls over to him sweetly- sickeningly so, “Come here and hold this slave’s hands for me, Pet. He’ll need your help.”
The slave is instantly at his Master’s side, enjoying at least the chance to be helpful to him, I’m sure. Sebby grins at me. Great. I’m in the hands of two maniacs and willingly so. I hear the wire loop being withdrawn and John’s quick draw in of breath. I know instinctively from this sound from my lover that he will allow its use on me. He doesn’t want to but he must permit Moriarty to really hurt me. My fear knows no bounds now.
“No, no, please!!!” I scream out. He hasn’t even struck me. Seb struggles to keep his hands locked on my wrists as I pull at my arms and push my feet against the floor.
“Give me that,” I hear John command to Moriarty. When the loop strikes me over the sensitized flesh on my ass cheek I know it is being delivered by John himself. Moriarty presses downwards hard on my shoulders as John continues. “You WILL (smack) Obey (smack) Master M (double smack)!” John snarls at me.
“Oh God… Master, pleasseeeeee….I will… oh pleasssse have mercy, Master!” I can’t help it but to screech and beg. The pain is etching itself into my soul. I’ll do anything to have it end. Even if it means obeying my arch enemy.
After a dozen painful swats John hands the wire loop back to Moriarty. “You’ll need to beat him into submission, I’m afraid, Master M.”
Oh God. I don’t want to submit to Moriarty. Please. The loop descends again drawing out a long howl of misery. I’m drowning in tears as Moriarty beats every square inch of my ass and back of thighs. Each time I think surely he must take pity on me- I can’t scream any harder- he delivers each blow expertly finding new ways to add to my torment. Soon, I can’t even scream, my throat is too dry. It’s a strange animalistic sound being torn from me. I don’t even realize when he’s stopped. Seb is suddenly whispering in my ear that it’s over, to stop gasping, to breathe again. Moriarty pushes me off his lap unceremoniously and stands. Kicking at us to get us out of his way, he steps towards John.
“Leash him so we can go down to the Hall and get some food, Harry. I’m starving now,” Moriarty cheerfully announces to John.
Within a few moments, a collar and leash are locked around my neck and find myself hauled out of the bedroom by John’s firm tugs. I follow meekly.
OoooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooo
Sherlock:
Seb and I kneel face to face on the stage, faces tear stained and eyes swollen. The handlers nudge us closer and when my body makes contact with his I allow myself to lean upon him just a bit. He snorts softly into my ear but doesn’t say anything. He’s used to this harsh treatment and I’m not.
Our Masters have wandered off in search of food from the kitchen and we’ve been left here to be prepped for their use later. Loops of rope bind us and keep us on our knees. Our ankle cuffs are secured to bolts in the floor. We are going nowhere. As soon as the handlers finish they too leave the stage. Alone now, Seb and I have complete privacy finally.
“What the Hell is Moriarty up to?” I hiss into Seb’s ear incase there’s a hidden mic nearby.
He wiggles a bit until he can look at me without being directly face to face, “How the Hell should I know! My Master does not reveal plans to me!”
He’s talking at a normal level so I decide it must be safe to hold a conversation. I give him a good hard, angry stare as I retort, “Oh come on, Sebastian! I know you two are close! He loves telling you secrets. Makes him feel all BIG and IMPORTANT. Keeps you under his power, knowing that you’d better never try to leave him!”
Seb scoffs, “Why would I LEAVE him? I love my Master!”
I frown. Of course he does. It doesn’t take a Master Deducer to observe that! I decide on a different tact. I tell him honestly, “Yes, I see that you do. Look, I’m not trying to kill him or even catch him. I’m trying to find a murderer.”
Sebastian seems reluctant to believe me. I add, “Help me locate this person… Master Nicholas’s murderer… and I’ll see what I can do about calling off Mycroft.”
“You’d let us escape?”
Hmmm, tricky question. “If I am able to, alright?”
“Ah,” Seb answers, “But what if MY master is the murderer?”
“He’s not, Sebastian, I know that already.”
Seb seems intrigued and cocks his head. “How do you know this?”
“That’s an elementary deduction, Seb. One, he’s known for bold choices of weapons like bombs in public places; loud, expensive guns. This was one was silenced. Two, he always wants the spot light- has elaborate, almost crazy plans- this was a simple gun shot and the murderer hid within the group. Third, he informs his intended victims ahead of time… he LOVES to make them suffer and fret, remember? He’s not the murderer THIS time. Not his style.”
Seb smiles fondly as he considers my words about his Master. And people say I’M a FREAK?? “True. He does love his LITTLE productions, doesn’t he? Oh and I should point out, he has someone else pull the trigger… me, he has ME shoot the target. So you are correct, Sherlock… WE didn’t kill Master Nicholas.”
“Then I need help finding out who did. Any way that you ask among the other slaves, Seb?”
He nods slowly, thinking. “I can get to a few of them. Most stay within their Masters’ room but… Master lets me ‘play’ with a few of them. I’ll try.”
“You’ll need to do it today,” I tell him.
“Oh? Going somewhere soon?” he snorts. It makes me very uncomfortable.
I’m about to tell him off when we hear the door to the hall swing open. I drop my head to his shoulder and sigh. I feel him shake in mirth at my dread. The bastard.
John is back. I hear his voice amongst the group. My world is alright again; at least for the time being.
OOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOooo
“Oh Look at our slaves, Master harry! They look adorable together. Why I think they may even LIKE each other!” Moriarty crows. His eyes are locked on us like a hunter. Seb groans at his his words. I want John to smack that mad man in the face. I know he can’t, still… nice to imagine.
“Makes it easier to work them both over, I suppose,” Says my beloved John. I’m afraid to look at him to see if he is acting or if perhaps he is starting to like this role of his a bit too much.
Moriarty apparently agres with John. He announces, “Indeed it does! Let’s give them a good flogging, what’s say you, Harry, before the other Masters arrive?”
What’s the point of this, John? I want desperately to ask but I already know the answer. Keep the consulting criminal close and busy. I just wish we didn’t have to use MY body and humiliation as his damn entertainment. They’ve lifted long, leather floggers off the hooks on the walls and as they approach I see both implements have metal beads tied onto the long, leather tails.
Seb looks at me with mock concern. How sweet of him to worry. Leaning close, he whispers in my ear, “Oh, now THOSE hurt. The marks they leave are impressive. It will add to the illusion that you’ve been well punished but not add risk of permanent damage.”
I grunt when the first blow from John’s flogger lands across my shoulders. I hiss out to Seb, “I realize that, Captain Obvious.”
Moriarty has caught our exchange and chuckles. Instead of flogging Seb, he produces a ball gag and shoves it into his slave’s mouth rather roughly. Turning to John, who hasn’t stopped his assault to my back, he remarks lightly, “I think you’ll need to gag Chatty Cathy there, Master Harry.”
“He’s usually silent,” John answers.
As John retrieves a ball gag for me, Moriarty pets the side of my face. He’s grinning at me again and I swear he needs to be punched. “Oh, I know the DEAR boy is usually silent. But you know, with a LITTLE friend at his side, he’s down right verbose!”
John ignores this obvious dig and gags me. I hate that Seb sees me drooling. I don’t know why I’m finding this intensely mortfying, even more so than being hided over his Master’s knee. John grips me by the elbow as if to steady Seb and I before he proceeds to flog me and it takes a moment for me to realize that he’s asking my condition in our pre-arranged code. Seriously? How do you think I’m doing, John? I’m fucking naked in front of my nemisis, I’m bound to his freak of a henchman and you are about to flog me into oblivion. I’m Fucking peachy! I cough three times. RED.
He backs away and I hear the flogger swoosh back over his shoulder and the loud crack it makes as it descends against my back is deafening. The pain is sharp bite as the metal and leather impacts already strained, torn flesh. I swear there is a fire started and I can do nothing but endure as it quickly spreads.
Seb bangs his head against mine when Moriarty joins in the fun. His slave almost looks apologetically at me. In a moment I can’t really see him, notice how he’s doing because the pain has fogged my vision. I’m just a big stretch of smouldering meat. Seb is groaning loudly and wriggling under the blows and I find our bodies are locked in a strange sort of dance… one that, after a period of pure torture, is starting to feel good. I feel his cock harden between our bodies and his sounds have changed into deep, guttural moans of half pleasure, half pain.
“Hmm, my pet is enjoying his special treat but yours, Master Harry, needs some help.”
No, I don’t WANT help! But in a moment, before John can protest, Moriarty is kneeling beside Seb and I with a bottle of lube in his hand. I’m hoping John will ‘accidentally’ hit him with the leather but of course, there’s no such luck. John is probably watching since his flogger has fallen silent and still. There’s the usual pop of the lid opening and then I feel Moriarty’s hand squeeze between our bodies. His hand must close around Seb’s cock because the henchman hisses in surprise. He’s very hard and close now aftr this treatment. Next, I am manhandled. As the lubed fingers tug at me I feel the shame burn it’s way to my face. My traitorous body responds to him in hunger.
“There we go, little doggies, that’s better.” Moriarty purrs. He wipes his hand off against Seb’s face and stands.
Soon the flogging continues. Each stroke makes us writhe our bodies together as we seek to avoid the next blows. I feel like I have a fever and the only cure is rubbing against Seb’s tethered body. John has, over the past few years, become a Master at flogging. Now he’s made it into a damn art form apparently. The flogger is seeking out new tender spots and revisits the places of fire and destruction. He moves it smoothly, in a strict pattern I know well. Knowing where I’ll be struck helps ease the fear; helps me reach beyond the vail of tears and suffering- helps me soar. The pleasure of sliding my hard cock against Seb’s belly is sending me to the moon. He’s right there with me. I hear our sounds reaching a fever pitch together. He cries out first, “Master, PLEASssse may I cum?”
I can’t even manage that. My cock spurts forth ropes of jism even as I catch Moriarty’s answer, “No, you may FUCKING not, whore!”
Seb cannot hold back. He drops his head on my shoulder and grunts out his pleasure. His warm seed joins mine. Moriarty knows that Seb has disobeyed him- MADE him disobey him- the bastard. The flogging continues. I have no idea when it will stop. Seb and I are soon leaning bonelessly into each other, sobbing as the misery reaches a climax neither of us can endure. It’s too much pain even to enter subspace.
I hear the flogger descending long after it has stopped. It’s purely in my imagination but I flinch just the same as being struck by it when John touches the back of my head to grasp the gag. This round of torture has thankfully ended. I pray for a moment to catch my breath and adjust. I’m certain Moriarty will not give it.
Clapping draws my attention. Grand Master Brae stands beside the edge of the stage with two slaves kneeling at his feet. He smiles in a similar fashion as Moriarty; all teeth and false sincerety, “Good to see the pig being put into its place, Master Harry.”
“I TOLD you my FRIEND, Harry just needed a familiar face to put him at ease, Brae!” Moriarty says almost jovially. I can imagine his hands spread in the air in front of him in that little WORSHIP ME move he makes.
“Indeed, M has been a tremndous help, Grand Master Brae. I don’t know what I’d do without him,” John answers dryly.
Have a peaceful damn life, I think, that’s what we would have without him! But the three masters are not really paying attention to us. I glance at the naked men on the floor. One is lean and smooth, his hair cut military fashion and he has distinctly Russian features. The other is broader and thicker limbed with a Black Irish coloring. Both are manacled at wrist, ankle and neck. The taller one has a blackened eye and his companion has fresh cuts to his face and neck. I’m certain they are not here at the Predators’ Club consensually.
“The others will be joining us soon but I thought perhaps we could have a little fun,” Grand Master Brae tells John and Moriarty. His tone implies a bit of a threat. “Let’s have a wager.”
“I’m game,” Moriarty replies. “What did you have in mind?”
“My boys against yours; a wrestling match. Whichever pair manages to subdue and fuck a member on the other team wins. We’ll give them… hmmm, twenty minutes?”
“And the wager?” Moriarty asks , interested.
“Should your pair win, you each may have your pick of my stock to be sold Friday at the auction. If I win, the two you must sponser next month’s Procurement and Shipment.”
John asks, “Which is how much?”
“As I’ve contracted for a small shipment of refugees from Serbia – a group of three new slaves- I’d say it will run me about $300,000. Barring any complications."
“Hmmm, not bad. I’ve seen the toys up for auction, Harry. Well worth the risk. I’m certain our slaves can out manuever them anyway.”
Moriarty responds smoothly as though he were talking over a horse race.
I’m not surprised when John agrees. He has no choice. I catch Seb’s look at Moriarty. It is full of pride and longing. Well, at least I have the maniac criminal worshiper on my side. His desire to prove his Master right should prove a distinct advantage.
“Your slaves are not hard, Grand Master Brae and ours have just SHAMEFULLY enjoyed themselves,“ John points out.
“That’s not an issue, we have sexual stimulants on hand. You’ll find what we need in that wall locker, Master Harry.” Grand Master Brae tells him.
I hear John move off behind me to my left and Moriarty leans over us, unwinding ropes and releasing the ankle cuffs as well. I give him a good strong glare when no-one else can possibly see- I know it’s a risk- but I’m sincerely incensed to be so helpless in his presence. If looks could kill, he’d be a blackened pile of soot by now. He flashes me his toothy grin, pats Seb on the head and grabbing his leash yanks him away from me. There is a digusting slurp as the cum fueled connection releases between us and Seb giggles under his breath. I can just picture him in the military, shooting people dead and laughing about it. But surely he wasn’t this level of crazy back then… it had to be Moriarty driving him around the bend. Moriarty has that gift with people.
John is back at my side. The needle jab to my neck makes me hiss and try to draw away from him. Too late, I remember my place. He shoves me onto my face from behind and angrily tells me off for the disobedient movement. Moriarty accepts a syringe and Grand Master Brae takes the other two from John’s outstretched hand. I rub my chin where I’ve knocked my head against the floor. I think John is taking his role perhaps a bit too seriously now. I mean he’s not going for a bloody damn BAFTA.
A warmth spreads through my body and I moan as my cock hardens in response to the injected drug. Very quickly I’m firm enough to drive nails into the wall. I see that it has had the same effect on Seb and the other two slaves. Mr. Probably-From-Russia is impressively large when engorged.
Moriarty picks up a set of handcuffs and orders us to present our wrists. As he hooks Seb and I together his smile is all Chesire Cat again. “Ohhhh, now THIS looks familiar!’ He crows in delight.
Kill him. Now. Please, John.
John makes no move to pull his gun out and shoot the smug bastard as I hoped so I resign myself to the fact that I’m either going to have to rape someone or BE raped. Great. And HOW is your day going, Sherlock? Getting fucking BETTER by the bloody damn minute.
I shake my head to clear this emotional cloud. I must stay calm and plan out some sort of strategy. I don’t intend to be someone else’s sexual relief. I can’t talk to Seb but perhaps he’ll undertsnad a few facial expressions. Our eyes lock and he finally nods. We watch as Grand master Brae’s slaves are prepped with their own set of handcuffs.
Grand Master Brae announces to us as we take our places facing the other pair, "You have twenty minutes to subdue and rape at least one member on the other team. If neither pair succeeds, then all four of you will suffer severe consequences!”
Moriarty is looking at his watch, “Go!”
I don’t know what Seb’s plan is, except perhaps he intends to use me as rape bait. He waits until both Russia and Ireland have gotten their hands upon my body and are taking me down hard before he makes a move at all. Underneath their sweating bodies it’s hard to hear but I manage to catch Moriarty’s chortle just the same. He shouts out to his pet, “Come on, Sebby! Although I’d love to see him raped too, do give us a good show!”
Hard fingers are grasping everything on my body- pinching, pulling and trying to open me for access. One arm crosses my throat while it’s owner tries to rut me like a buck in season. Angrily I bite the next hand that nears my face and earn myself an elbow in the belly for the effort.
It’s an amazing quiet affair, this attempt at rape. We are grunting and panting. I decide to Hell with being silent. I’m going to be a victim here in a minute if Seb doesn’t help me. “Come on, Seb. Get this ass off me!” I snarl at my ‘partner'.
When he does help he nearly rips my arm off with the handcuffs. I scream in pain as he wrenches my arm behind my back as he attacks the Russian. I catch a look from him and he remarks nastily, “Keep up, BITCH! Jesus, I feel like I’m tied to a fucking worthless tree stump!”
“Coordinate,” I snarl back.
“Fine! You speak Italian, right?” He asks. When I nod he adds, “Fucking Awesome! Finally someone intelligent! Switch over to it then!”
He starts to bark orders in Italian and I follow them as best I can. He’s grasped Russia in a knock-out hold and tells me to punch the Irish slave hard in the throat. I slam out my hand but it’s the one attached to Seb’s wrist. His glare could literally slay a man. I correct my mistake and strike with my left. The slave’s eyes bulge as he fights to catch his breath.
“Ten minutes,” Grand Master Brae warns us.
“Help me TAKE this one! I assume you are too PURE to want to rape that one so HELP me!” Seb orders. I comply. I help him flip Russia onto his belly and put my weight onto his shoulders.
Panic can give a person an edge. The intended victim locks his teeth onto Seb’s hand and there is blood drawn. When Seb draws back to look at his injury the slave scurries away from us, dragging his semi-conscious partner behind him.
“Fucking ass, I WAS going to go easy on you… but NOW, I’m going to fucking nail you into the ground with my cock!” Seb shrieks in rage. There is clapping at this that I’m sure comes from his master.
Irish was coming around quickly. He scooted up onto his knees and directed the assault back onto me. Both he and his partner pounces upon me, knocking me flat and I hear Seb cursing as the handcuff bends his wrist. They kick him out of the way and put their combined effort into spreading me. I fight back hard but they have me pinned on my back with my legs lifted. My limbs feel like they are being torn off as my adversaries force them wide apart over my chest. When I feel a hardness at my hole I scream for Seb to do something. It is then that I hear a howl, inhuman and ferocious. Seb knocks them both off of me again and drag me behind himself as he gets to his knees on top of one of them. This time he has the Irishman pinned. I slam my head into the belly of the Russian and lay across him. Thus flattened he can do nothing to spare his mate.
“Sebby, pet, I suggest you get a MOVE on! You have two minutes left. DO NOT disappoint me again. You remember what happened the last time Master’s little pet FAILED?”
I watch the brute, Sebastian, shiver at his Master’s words. He easily flips his prisoner over and with a glob of spit to the man’s hole, he enters so roughly that the man screams in agony.
“30 seconds, Sebby. If you don’t cum by then, you’ll not cum again for a month!”
Sebastian’s movements become a blur as he tries his best to climax. Moriarty starts a countdown and I hear both the rapist and the victim’s sounds change. The former is close to climax, the latter is close to passing out from the agony.
“5, 4, 3, 2, 1... Pull out, bitch. Too late. Too bad you couldn’t cum!” Moriarty snarls at Seb, grasping him by the blond hair and yanking him off of his victory hump.
Seb’s hips keep pumping wildly in the air and he cums then at his Master’s feet, shooting jism all over me and the floor. I flip him off but he just smiles smugly at me. Moriarty wrenches his head backwards and glares down at his slave. “Bad boy! You wasted that nut juice all over the floor!” He tells him. He spits into his face and Seb seems to revel in his Master’s anger. Nut job.
John has the handcuff keys and within a moment is pulling me free from the stage. He too has me by the hair. Being that my scalp is incredibly sensitive I am begging for him to stop. But his voice, berating me, is far louder than my whimpering complaints. He scolds as he drag me towards a a bondage table, “You didn’t even try! I’ll teach you to OBEY me, FAGGOT!”
He lifts his arm and tosses me towards the thing. Not wanting to add to his presumed anger I lay down upon it and spread my arms and legs to the chains at the corners. He swiftly has me pinned down and quaking nervously, I observe him picking up a knife. With one hand he sprays an antiseptic onto my inner thigh and with the other lifts the short, wicked looking blade. “I’m going to mark you with my initials and you’re going to stay quiet and take it!”
I want so badly to close my legs, to cry out but I do as I am told.
Mycroft suggested the name Harry Warner to John in the first place as both names were already within his family history and they were even his normal initials. Very easy for John to remember.
John can look me in the face without anyone seeing him from behind. He gives me a kind twist of the mouth that brings a sadness to his eyes. I know then his intentions. He’ll mark me. Yes, and that mark I’ll bear forever. But it is with HIS initials. He can later add a J before the H. I blink my consent.
Calmly he carves two letters into my skin. H and then W. I grit my teeth for him, my eyes locked on his.
When he's finished, he cleans the area quickly and releases me. I drop to the floor by his feet and lay my head on his shoes.
“Well done, Harry. I think he’s finally submitted to your will! We can show off our pets to the others if you want. They should be attending within a few minutes.” I hear Moriarty announce.
In fact we can hear a commotion outside of the Grand Hall’s doorway. It swings opens but instead of one of the Masters it is a handler. The man is huffing out of breath and red faced. He gasps as he tries to communicate, “Sir, Ray needs you in the slave holding cell… he’s found our mole… he wants Master M’s help, Sir and yours… he said it’s urgent! It’s appears to be an undercover Federal agent!”
I glimpse the anxious look that John shoots towards Moriarty.
So Mycroft’s informant was a planted agent. Great. Just what we need; someone that knows us and our mission here.
Grand Master Brae curses and looks to Moriaty for help. "What should I do, M?"
“Come along, Harry… My pet, Seb, is well versed in torture techniques and you are a doctor; you can keep the bitch alive for us." Moriarty announces as he grasps Brae’s arm and reassuringly tells him, “I’m glad Harry’s here. He’ll be a great service to us in this matter."
At our Masters’ beckoning gestures, Seb and I rise to our feet and trail after them silently. As John strides forward purposely he has one hand near his hip and I am thankful once again that he is a crack shot. We just may need his skills to get us out of this alive.
What he doesn’t see though is that, Moriarty, behind him on his right, is also armed. I don’t know what the mastermind's plan is but I’m certain I won’t like it. I pin my eyes to his back and send forth as much hate as I can manage. I know we must rely on him now- and though I don’t like being in such a position- I know we’ll have to trust the maniac.
Or kill him.