“Sir, I’m not sure what you want me to describe. The food?” Ollie looked up at Milan.
Milan held the melon at his lips for a moment before putting it in his mouth. “Describe your perceptions, Sunshine. I want to know what you assume is happening.”
“I’ve been isolated from human contact, denied any sense of time, and subjected to humiliation through being kept naked and hosed down like an animal. The obedience instruction reinforces my subservient position. I suspect this is where you present the attractive alternative that I am to embrace instead.”
Milan chuckled. “No guile, then?”
“No, sir. We both know what you’re doing.” These were classic brainwashing techniques. Soon Milan would introduce Ollie to other members of Milan’s entourage. At best, Ollie would end up confused and clinging to a weak understanding that Milan was evil as he obeyed anyway. At worst, he was going to become one of Milan’s happy followers as soap bubbles floated out his ears.
Milan held a piece of melon down so close that the smell nearly overwhelmed Ollie. Milan didn’t issue any invitations, and Ollie knew he couldn’t simply lean forward and take the food. It would give Milan the ability to pull the melon away, reinforcing the lesson that Ollie had no power. Not that Ollie needed that lesson. He already understood how little power he had, and since the captain had allowed Ollie to be taken, he couldn’t expect rescue. Ollie figured the captain planned to track Milan back to his base, so either that had failed and Ollie was at Milan’s total mercy, or the captain was playing some game and Ollie was at Milan’s mercy until Greyson showed up, and then he’d be at the captain’s mercy.
And since the captain couldn’t admit to allowing a detective to get kidnapped and brainwashed, Ollie had no idea how that would end.
He was so caught up in his internal pity party that melon pressing against his lips was a surprise. “Eat, beautiful,” Milan said. Ollie sank his teeth into the firm fruit and felt the cool juices flood his mouth with sweetness. It was the best-tasting melon Ollie had ever enjoyed.
“The trainers say you are doing well, and I am very pleased with you,” Milan said, and he used the toe of his boot to press against Ollie’s balls. “Your reward is that you may ask one question.”
Ollie glanced up in surprise and then quickly lowered his gaze again. He was still savoring his melon, which he considered a pretty damn good reward. Two rewards meant they might be moving on to the positive-conditioning part of the training. That was slightly terrifying, but there were things Ollie needed to know.
He wanted to know why Milan had taken him instead of having Allemande fire him or shooting him in the back of the head, but then Ollie wouldn’t know the truth from a lie. He could ask what exactly Milan planned on doing to him, but he had a fairly good idea. Taking a deep breath, he asked, “Sir, why do you bother with the colors and triangles when you could force compliance with a simple order to kneel?”
Milan stared down at Ollie for a long minute. “Such an unusual little beast you are. But if that is the question you truly want answered…” Milan shrugged. “You must learn control over your body. You must learn to master yourself before you present your submission to a master, and that means you may not allow pain to master you. To escape pain into mindlessness makes you worthless as a submissive. I value your ability to think, and I will not have it dulled or blunted.”
That startled Ollie. Based on the conditioning Ollie had endured, mindless obedience seemed like Milan’s first, second, and third goals, but perhaps he had some other objective.
Chapter Ten
It was days or maybe a week later when Milan showed up again. This time he came earlier in the training session. On this particular day, Ollie had only suffered a couple of hours of mindless training before Milan appeared in his tight black pants and an embroidered white shirt buttoned all the way up. He didn’t have a tie, but he did wear a blue clasp. When Milan asked the question about fairness this time, Ollie reported that sometimes his trainers were inconsistent in how quickly they punished clumsy movement. The answer amused Milan so much that Ollie wished he’d ignored the order to pay more attention to his surroundings.
However, Milan had then given Ollie a handjob that had left him hard and aching. Standing at Ollie’s back, Milan had reached around to grab Ollie’s cock and started slowly pumping him. Milan teased and pinched Ollie’s nipples and ghosted his hand over Ollie’s side until Ollie squirmed with need. Only then did Milan clip a leash to Ollie’s collar and walk away, giving Ollie’s neck a hard tug when he couldn’t gather his brain cells fast enough to keep up.
It had warmed up some outside. Ollie closed his eyes and soaked up the sun for a moment before he hurried to catch up with Milan. He strode down a cobblestone path that meandered through a manicured lawn. The whole place had an air of old money. The house in the distance looked like a white plantation with the wide front porch. That was ironic.
A man wearing a black muscle shirt walked up to Milan and offered a tablet. “Sir,” he said respectfully without even glancing at Ollie, who was naked and chained and hard as hell. This was one seriously strange alternate universe he’d fallen into.
Milan thumbed through a number of screens, one eyebrow rising as he read the data. Ollie studied the line of Milan’s back, trying to decide if Milan had tensed or relaxed. When he flipped to a new screen, he finally frowned.
“You wouldn’t shoot the messenger, would you, sir?” the nameless man asked.
Milan gave him a weary look. “I might whip him until he begs for mercy,” Milan warned.
The corner of the messenger’s lips twitched up. “Yes, sir.” Weirdly, this guy was hitting Ollie’s “dominant” radar, but he seemed happy enough to serve Milan.
Milan handed the pad back. “I have business for the next couple of hours; I’ll deal with it then. Have a guest room and proper guard prepared.”
“Yes, sir,” the messenger said before he turned toward the house and trotted away.
Maybe it was Ollie’s imagination, but he thought Milan looked tenser now. Ollie had studied Stockholm syndrome in the academy, so he wasn’t exactly surprised that he felt threatened by whatever was annoying Milan. If Ollie was being totally rational, he should be happy that someone had obviously thrown a wrench in Milan’s plans, but Ollie couldn’t gather the strength to feel even one bit of gratitude for the unknown annoyance. Instead he wanted things back the way they had been three minutes ago, and that was a fairly strong indicator he was quickly losing his hold on sanity.
They reached a small outbuilding with stone walls that only went up three feet or so before turning into opaque windows. When Milan opened the door, the hot, humid air washed over Ollie. It was a greenhouse. Ollie followed when Milan led him through aisles of tall flowers and green plants all in matching pots until they reached a second door.
The second room was not quite as hot. The windows overhead collected the warmth of the sun, but wide arches let a sluggish wind scatter the heat. The whole area was set up like a small park. A stream ran down into a pond, and undersized trees rose from giant wooden barrels. Two faded wood benches on a cobblestone patio created a seating area near the pond, and Milan headed for the bench, sitting down and picking up a small chest from the second seat.
“Stand in front of me,” Milan ordered. He opened the chest and pulled out a bit of leather and metal that Ollie didn’t quite understand.
Milan tugged sharply on Ollie’s cock, and he hissed in pain. But before his mouth could go and say something stupid, his brain was hijacked by the feeling of something tight wrapping around the base of his cock and balls. He stared up at the ceiling, studying the way the metal supports crossed and the perfect squares of glass as Milan separated his balls and the edge of a leather strap dug deeply into them. Milan pressed so hard that tears gathered at the corners of Ollie’s eyes, and then he heard the click of a snap closing.
“Fuck!”
“Kneel!” Milan ordered. Ollie had learned about grace and balance over the past days or weeks. He wondered how long he had been in that training room, but in the end it didn’t matter. The trainers had made their point clear. Ollie arched his back and slid gracefully down to his knees. Then Milan grabbed Ollie’s chin, forcing him to look at Milan as he frowned.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Ollie hurried to say. Silent and frozen in fear, he waited to see if Milan would accept his apology or punish him again. The electrified collar had the ability to send so much pain through him that he would piss himself—as his time in the kneeling room had proved once or twice. Right now, living meant avoiding that pain. But with the mistake made, he could only wait for Milan to decide the issue of forgiveness.
“You will control that mouth.”
“Yes, sir.”
Milan looked away, and Ollie leaned back as far as he dared. Milan finally focused on Ollie. He pulled a gag out of the chest.
Ollie pushed aside the irrational need to fight. Fighting wouldn’t help him here. He had no escape strategy, and Milan had all the power. So when Milan held up the gag, Ollie opened his mouth and didn’t comment as Milan pulled it tight around Ollie’s head and buckled it. Ollie worked his jaw a little to try to find a more comfortable position for his tongue, but the ball was slightly too large.
“Are you prepared to be good?” Milan asked seriously.
Good. Yeah, like I have a choice to be anything else
, Ollie thought, but he nodded. He’d be good to avoid the pain, because that was all the control he had at this point.
Milan sighed. “I do wish I had more time.”
That statement made a cold shiver go down Ollie’s spine. What time was running out? Was the captain coming, and if so, what would he do? Day after day of endless sameness in the training room had left Ollie feeling ambiguous about any change. His jaw clenched around the ball gag, and he forced himself to relax the muscles before he could cause himself more pain.
“Prove that you are a useful animal, Ollie. I have need of a good one.” Milan caught him under the collar and stood, urging Ollie up. He grunted when the change in position cost him several pubic hairs. Before his little visit with Milan’s trainers, that sort of pain would have made him cringe and possibly hop on one foot as he cursed. Now he rode out the hot wave and let it fade away on its own.
Ollie’s wrists were chained behind his back, so when Milan pulled on them, Ollie was forced to bend over at the waist to take the pressure off his shoulders. Milan lifted higher, and Ollie tried his best to go limp and pliable. Bent as he was, Ollie now had a very interesting view of his own cock, all bound at the root with black leather and silver snaps. He was still hard, caught in a strange in-between land where he wanted to come but was too distracted by everything else to care too much about his cock’s needs.
Lust had become a more distant partner that haunted him rather than something that consumed him. No, the only thing Ollie was consumed by was watching Milan and trying to avoid as much pain as possible. If Ollie got out of this alive, he was going to need a twenty-four-hour-a-day therapist. Ollie would probably refuse to talk once he got there, but he’d need one.
Milan kicked at the inside of Ollie’s foot, and Ollie spread his feet and breathed through his nose as he let Milan do whatever he wanted. A blunt, slick something touched Ollie’s asshole, and he took deep breaths and tried to relax as Milan pushed a plug into him. It was large enough that it made the ring of muscle around his ass burn until the intruder slipped into place. Then his ass partially closed around the smaller neck of the object. Milan let go of Ollie’s wrists, and he slowly stood as he waited for whatever came next.
Twice Milan circled Ollie, studying him with dark eyes that seemed drawn to every twitch he made. Eventually, he stopped and reached up to cup Ollie’s face with his palm. “Be good, Ollie. The rewards are worth it,” Milan said. He embraced Ollie, his arms sliding around Ollie’s waist and Milan’s lithe body pressing close.
Ollie breathed in the woodsy cologne and soap smell. Milan thrust his hips forward, grinding his leather pants against Ollie’s bare and bound cock, and Ollie whined.
“You are beautiful, especially when you suffer so,” Milan said. He ran his hands over Ollie’s arms and down to his cuffs.
When Ollie’s hands suddenly came apart, Ollie drew air through his nose and looked at Milan. Milan stepped back and considered Ollie with a small smile that challenged him. It was as if Milan was asking whether Ollie was smart enough to control himself, and Ollie wasn’t sure of the answer.
Ollie studied the mitts that still kept his hands in tight fists and made him essentially helpless. Just being able to bring his hands around to the front for the first time in days gave him an almost giddy feeling of freedom, even if it was a false freedom.
Milan sat on the bench. Ollie was many things—irreverent, occasionally self-destructive and shy, sometimes even crude—but he wasn’t stupid. He settled down carefully at Milan’s feet, ignoring any discomfort or pain. Resting his bound hands on his thighs, he waited to see what Milan would do next.
For long minutes, Milan did nothing. Then he brought the toe of his boot to Ollie’s balls, pressing gently. Milan continued that for a time, and Ollie focused on the place where two support struts that held up the roof met. Little wisps of grass hung down like there was a bird’s nest hidden up there. However, Ollie’s power of ignoring failed when Milan leaned forward and grabbed Ollie’s cock with his strong hand. Long fingers teased the slit and tickled his balls. Behind the gag, Ollie groaned as the need to come again became the center of his whole universe. His knees sent up warning twinges of pain that somehow made the slide of Milan’s fingers over his sweat-damp body even more sensual. His body contracted, and the plug in his ass seemed to grow thicker as he arched his back. Then the plug sent a quick jolt through his body before it began to vibrate, and Ollie’s control broke. His hands moved toward his cock unconsciously.