Spliced: Part 1, Chapter 6
Jun. 4th, 2008 07:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
AUTHOR: flighty_dreams
WARNINGS: NC-17, most definitely. slavefic. scifi setting. M/m.
WORD COUNT: 1,116
SUMMARY: Part 1. A businessman finds exactly what he wants at a slave market. Or does he?
NOTES: Short one this time, but I hope you like.
Chapter Six
A few weeks later Matt was finishing up some work at his desk while Min straightened up the bedroom. As he finished up the cleaning, the Andorian paused in front of the bookcase. It was time to take a chance again. He stood before them for a few minutes, frowning, before calling, “Master?”
Matt looked up from his work distractedly. “Yes?” Seeing what the pet was looking at it, he added, “Something wrong with the books?”
“No,” Min said, turning slowly toward him. He looked at Matt, keeping his nerves steady, and hoping he got the right response. “I was just wondering what they were about, master. There are so many.”
Matt’s brows rose in surprise. He said nothing for a few seconds, choosing his words carefully before saying firmly, “Many things, but none of them interesting to a slave.”
Min’s eyes dropped as he hid his intense disappointment. He’d hoped Matt would be better than this. One more chance? “I was just curious, master, and hoped you might tell me. They seem interesting to me,” he countered softly.
Annoyance colored Matt’s features, and he stood up, moving toward Min slowly as he spoke. “As I just told you, slave,” the emphasis on the last word showing his anger, “they are not your concern. All that’s required of you regarding those books is that you keep those shelves clean. And most of all, that you don’t touch them.”
Min struggled to hold his own ire back, but failed. He met his master’s gaze, arctic eyes flashing vividly. “I didn’t realize they were such a threat to you.” Judging from Matt’s expression, the dropping of the word ‘master’ didn’t go unnoticed amidst the disrespectful statement.
“Minril,” Matt snarled furiously, his own eyes filling with rage.
As his master’s hands grabbed him roughly, Min cursed himself for going too far. He’d pay for it in pain and sweat and indignities—and gain nothing. His own anger was still there, but now it was fighting with fear of the repercussions of his hasty words. And beneath them both was the bitter taste of sorrow for Matt’s closed-mindedness. He wondered whether it was better to apologize immediately, though it would hurt his own spirit, or stand by his righteous anger and undergo a worse punishment. Unfortunately his time to decide ran out, as his master’s harsh grip dragged him to the side of the bookshelves, slamming him roughly against the wall. His head hit it hard, and a burst of pain shot from it, hurting and arousing him at the same time.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? Stupid slave,” Matt scowled at him, shoving him against the wall again. “Do you forget your place so easily?”
The mixing of pain and pleasure brought it all home to him more effectively than Matt’s words possibly could. He was what he was—a slave who needed a master. He whimpered, eyes dropping to the ground in submission and his anger fading—although a sliver of hurt went straight to his heart for it. He shuddered weakly, accepting the defeat, before saying softly, “No, master.”
“No, what?” Matt demanded.
“No, I do not forget my place, master. I exist to serve you,” he said to appease him, though perhaps his words didn’t sound completely sincere, some resentment lingering. But it seemed he still pretended well, for his master didn’t notice it. Matt let go of him and he slid down the wall until he was kneeling before his master, bent over in apparent shame.
He felt Matt’s gaze upon him, studying him for a minute or so. He remained still and silent, his head throbbing, awaiting his master’s response, which came shortly. “Perhaps it was just a moment of forgetfulness, but even a moment of such rudeness is not allowed. You obviously need vigorous instruction and reinforcement.” Min allowed himself no reaction to these words, though he was already bracing himself for what was coming. Although he couldn’t see Matt from his steady gaze on the floor, when Matt spoke up again, Min realized he wanted a reply from him. “Don’t you agree, slave?”
Min didn’t, but obviously he couldn’t say that. His first memory was of learning to serve; he knew his place and required no training on the subject. With this master, he’d hoped for more, but that obviously had been foolish whimsy. And now he was being forced to agree with Matt and ask for punishment. Well he knew the disrespect he’d shown was worthy of discipline, and Matt wasn’t the first master to make him beg for punishment. He wondered why it grated so this time, but was unable to linger on that thought. Now he had to reply before his master became even angrier. “I’m yours, master, to do with as you wish,” he offered, hoping that satisfied Matt.
“Not exactly an answer to my question, but it will do, slave.” Matt turned away and walked over to the special cabinet. Amidst his whirring thoughts, Min noted that when he was in disgrace, his master referred to him as ‘slave’ instead of ‘pet.’
Much too soon for Min, his master returned from the cabinet holding tools of discipline. He gritted his teeth as he felt himself harden, while at the same time his stomach clenched anxiously. This was going to be unpleasant, he thought, eyeing the paddle, whip and chains. Within a few minutes, his master had him hanging from a hook in the ceiling. In the two months he’d been with him, he’d noticed where his master chained him depended on how much trouble he was in. I’m in major trouble when he uses the hook, he recognized worriedly. It only made sense; it had been a big offense this time. Then the first lash descended and his thoughts shattered under the sweet pain of the whipping.
In the midst of his punishment, the reason for his discontent came to him. It was because he hadn’t been trying to be disobedient. He’d just wanted to make some sort of connection with Matt, to be able to talk to him. There were so many things he wanted to tell him, but he needed Matt to see him as something more than just a warm body in his bed. He’d offered his hand and it had been slapped down harshly, making him hurt and angry.
As the punishment continued however, the anger faded under the overwhelming pain, leaving him alone with his screwed up pain-pleasure sensors. Once the beating was over, the emotional hurt he couldn’t convert into pleasure made him retreat into himself. He needed time to recover, so he gave up the fight.
Chapter 7