Hold on, hold on to yourself.
For this is gonna hurt like hell.
                --Sarah McLachlan
 
 

When I woke next, I was still on my side, stiff and sore. My ass burned from its ravishing. Languidly, I stretched, my mind remaining muddled between waking and sleeping, and I rolled over to take the weight off my arm. When my hand brushed against Remy's cock, I came fully awake in horror. Reality hit me and I barely stopped myself from leaping off the bed and running for the door. Something warned me that the guards were very likely still posted outside.

So I raised myself carefully on one elbow and looked at Remy. He lay on his back, one arm stretched out to the side and the other hand resing gently on his abdomen. His head was turned away from me, hair in disarray all around his face. He was so peaceful in sleep, so breathtakingly beautiful. No arrogance, no knowing smirk, no shade of anger. Almost child-like and innocent.

I wanted to kill him. I wanted to take his long thin neck in my hands and squeeze until his eyes flew from his head and he took his last gasping breath. That beautiful face marred without eyes, and his tongue purple and swollen through blue lips. I smiled maliciously at that image. What he'd taken from me I could never get back. I wasn't sure if I could stand that knowledge. I wondered if I could ever return to Jean or to the X-men after what he had done, after he'd raped me. I was ashamed, and now, without his power to comfort me, furious.

My eyes wandered over his body to pause at his groin. The desire to kill him was strong, but the desire to control him, to make him experience all the pain and frustration I'd felt as his slave, was stronger. I could tear his cock off. Or at least bite down hard enough to permanently damage him. I was angry enough not to even feel repulsed by the idea.

But as I watched him, another more compelling thought crossed my mind. Remy wanted me. That was a certainty. And in his defenseless state I could use him just as he had used me. My lips curled in a smirk and I brushed my fingers purposefully along the length of his cock, my smile turning wicked when I heard him moan. I slid over closer and grasped him firmly, feeling the flesh pulsate and begin to swell, warming in my hand.

In just a few minutes I had his cock weeping in my mouth. I sucked him deep into my throat, confidence in my skill growing as his fingers wound their way through my hair. Remy was awake now, cursing at me, but his hips arched up to meet my lips, unable to help himself, caught off guard by the unanticipated pleasure. And I easily slipped a finger into him, wiggling it suggestively. I began to finger fuck him hard and fast. However, before I could place a second finger inside, he cried out and climaxed forcefully.

I swallowed his cum quickly before he could pull away. Then as he rose from the bed I looked up at him with an evil grin, licking my lips seductively. A tiny drop of semen leaked from the head of his now limp prick and I reached out to catch it with my finger. I slid the finger into my mouth and sucked it slowly. Two could play at this game of seduction. And if he wanted me so badly that he had to kidnap me from the mansion and force me into slavery, then I'd use his desire against him if I could.

Whipping around with that masculine grace that so defined him, even in anger, Remy grabbed his robe and pulled it on, tying it tightly. Then he turned back and crossed his arms to look at me. I lay on my side, my head resting on my bent elbow, a devious grin planted on my face.

For a moment he glared at me saying nothing. Then he ran a hand over his face and scratched absently at his chin. Sighing heavily, his face now bore an expression of sadness and resignation. "I wish you hadn't done dat, cher."

"Why?" I asked casually, almost sounding amused, one eyebrow cocked. "Didn't you enjoy it, Master?" The last word came out nearly like a snarl. I'd been disappointed that he'd come so quickly. I'd been very close to entering him. My cock was still half-erected. "Didn't you like my finger inside you, fucking your ass?" I added, almost surprised at myself to be goading Remy
this way, as if asking for him to punish me. An arrogant part of my nature felt certain he wouldn't hurt me. He wanted me too much. Besides, I'd given him pleasure, made him cum. Wasn't that what he wanted?

I realized very quickly that I'd crossed the line this time when he began speaking to me in a low chiding, but dangerous tone. "I been patient wit' you, Scott. Let you back talk and argue wit' me too often. I've ignored your sullen looks. But you've pushed me too far dis time, homme. Even Alex knew not to initiate sex. An' never to violate my person."

Tensing a little at his tone I said, "I thought it was what you'd want." I knew this wasn't true, but I couldn't help challenging him. And his mentioning Alex irritated me. "I didn't think it mattered how or when I sucked you as long as you got off."

"You playin' a dangerous game, hein." Remy narrowed his eyes. "Gonna have to adjust dat attitude of yours. I warned you before I could 'ave you whipped. I t'ink in dis case a lashing is in order."

I started at that and backed up on the bed until I was standing on the other side facing him. "You can't be serious?" My heart was in my throat and I knew he was deadly serious.

"Oui." He replied quietly.

"You think I'm going to let you?" I growled, more angry now than fearful. It was outrageous what he was saying. I almost felt insulted.

But then my anger faltered when Remy smiled at me maliciously and said, "Got no say in de matter, sug." With that he strode to the door. Throwing it open he said something to the guards outside and I hit the floor, dizzy and nauseated, and unable to move. My collar had been activated.

The two guards followed Remy into the room. I could see them come around to lift up my limp form and drag me to the end of the bed. But I couldn't see Remy for several minutes. Then he was there behind me and I heard a dull thud on the floor.

The guard on my right lifted my arm up roughly, stretching it toward the post where Remy snapped a gold metal band lined with sheep skin around my wrist and locked it securely to a ring set high in the wood. My other arm was similarly attached to the opposite post. Then my legs were stretched and fastened to the rings near the rug. Spread eagle, my backside exposed and
vulnerable, the guards stepped away and I flopped back as far as the restraints allowed.

Remy placed a gentle hand on my back. "We'll wait until you recover, mon cher." He kissed the back of my neck with a sorrowful sort of tenderness. "Dis gonna hurt. Didn' want to come to dis, but you givin' me no choice. I won' break de skin much, t'ough. Won' mar you."

He stepped away and a helpless terror gripped me. I couldn't move. And there was nothing I could do to stop him. Slowly the feeling returned to my limbs and weakly I pulled at the restraints. But they were secure. The sheep skin prevented the metal from cutting into my flesh, but it caused the skin to itch, tormenting me further. I clawed at the air, powerless. Memories
assailed me. I saw the orphanage where I had been disciplined for the slightest infraction. Never tied down, but held in the firm grip of older, stronger boys as the headmaster took a paddle to my exposed rear. Sometimes in front of a few of the other orphans.

The pain was nothing compared to the humiliation and the feeling of helplessness. And no matter how hard I tried I always seemed to be breaking a rule.

The worst time ever was the day I found out Alex was being adopted. I hid in the room I shared with eight other boys, skipping lunch just to nurse my anger and sorrow. When the headmaster found me underneath my bed, wrapped in one of the thin blankets we were given, I was crying inconsolably. He dragged me down to the lunchroom yelling at me for missing lunch and accusing me of being an ungrateful whelp. Four boys held me over a chair as he tore off my pants and proceeded to paddle me in front of the entire orphanage.

And Alex was there watching it all with tears in his eyes, helpless and miserable. That was the most shameful part: to see my brother's misery and to know I was the cause. If I'd been stronger. If I could have hid my emotions he never would have had to witness my punishment. In the little time we'd been there, he'd never had to watch me being punished. And now he knew how
weak I was, how stupid.

After the headmaster had finished, when the boys holding me down let my body drop like a broken doll to the floor, no longer able to cry, my brother ran to me and I pushed him away. I told him to leave me alone. I snarled at Alex telling him to go to his new family. I told him I didn't need him anyway, and I was glad I wouldn't have to look after him anymore. The look on his face
was heartbreaking. But I couldn't stop from lashing out. I wanted to blame him for leaving though he had little say in the matter. I wanted to hate him so I wouldn't feel this overwhelming sense of loss and pain. And my cruel words sent him fleeing. He avoided me after that. And in my anger, trying to drive away the pain, I didn't look for him. I only saw him the day he left
with his new family. The headmaster insisted that I say goodbye. I did, but sullenly. And when Alex waved from the backseat of the car as it drove away, I turned my back on him.

It took years to repair the damage. It took Professor Xavier to help me understand my rage and my actions. And he helped me reconcile with Alex. He took me to see my brother often.

And it took Jean to draw me out from behind the emotionless wall I'd built that day.

People have often accused me of being aloof, uptight, and almost devoid of human emotions. Some just said I was shy. Those people would have understood had they ever been dragged in front of a room full of cruel jeering boys, stripped below the waist and paddled severely as their own brother watched helplessly. As I've said, it took years to bring down those walls I'd so
carefully constructed to keep the hurt and shame from bubbling up to the surface. I swore I'd never cry for anyone or anything ever again.

And now Remy was stripping away all the years of love and meaning and acceptance that had torn down those barriers. I would build those walls again. Because I wouldn't be that frightened, helpless little boy again.

As soon as my head straightened, able to do more than loll uselessly against my chest, Remy came up behind me. A piece of black silk cloth was placed in front of my face to cover my eyes. I was thrown into darkness.

"Don't do this." I choked out.

"I'm sorry, mon petite." Remy murmured against my ear.

"No you're not!" I accused, gritting my teeth. "You're enjoying this. You were always jealous of me. Of my life with Jean. Jealous of how the X-men respect and trust me. It's something you'll never have. They'll never trust you. And I'm just here because of your misplaced anger. You just want to justify your own perversion."

Remy wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight. "You're wrong, mon amour. So very wrong." I was shocked by the complete lack of anger in his tone. I hadn't even irritated him with my accusations. What I said hadn't mattered. "M'life wit' de X-men is behind me. I don' care what dey t'ink. And as for perversion..." he let his empathy wash over me, drawing a sigh of bliss from my lips. Remy let me feel all his desire for me, his love. I was astonished. It bordered on obsession, but it was still love. And I couldn't find fault with his feelings or see it as perverse. Because it mirrored the love I felt for Jean. "Does dat feel perverted?" He asked softly.

"No." I agreed breathlessly.

Remy stepped back and withdrew the sensations. I strained forward against my shackles, my muscles, now fully awake, became so tense I thought my bones might snap under the pressure. I began to whisper into the air, "don't do this, don't do this, don't do this..."

But the first crack came regardless of my plea, whipping down along side my spine and over the shoulder blade to curl with a snap against my clavicle. My fingers splayed out in the restraints as my breath exploded from my chest and I had mere seconds to draw another before the second snap of the lash hit my other side. I had little breath to speak or even groan as each lash bore down at different times. There was no rhythm. Remy would pause for several moments and then attack my back with a series of thunderous blows. He was holding nothing back. My head roared and all I could hear was the swoosh of the leather a few seconds before it landed on my skin. The only time I could pace it and prepare.

And Remy said nothing. No curses, no harsh words to goad me or mock me, no kind words to sooth. He talked only with the whip.

At first I tensed, throwing my body forward as far as I could. And the pain was sharp and stinging, evaporating quickly. But as the blows came again and again and again the pain became my constant companion, my back scorched as I was hit over a previous spot along my spine or on my buttocks and thighs.

Soon I couldn't even make my body move forward. My arms became slack in the  restraints, the wrists itching even more as sweat poured off them. My body became drenched and slick with sweat. But the bindings held.

As my limbs went slack and my head fell back, Remy stepped up to me and traced a cool soothing hand across one of the welts. "Dat's it, Scott. Let go. Give yourself over to me and I'll take care of you." His warm breath in my ear broke through the roar of my brain. "Obey me, cher, and you'll know pleasure beyond your wildest dreams. Give up. Don' fight me anymore."

I wanted to. I wanted so badly to give in just to stop the lashing. But stubbornly, hardly even realizing what I was doing, I shook my head weakly, denying him.

The whip fell again. But this time a wave of compassion flooded through me. And a very soft whimper left my lips. Remy wasn't angry. Far from it. He was sympathetic. He understood my need to fight and identified with it. And he admired me for it. He adored my strength and my will and my passion. All he wanted was for me to feel the same for him.

So in the correcting he let me feel how sorry he was for having to punish me. It was bliss and pain melded into one. I could no longer tell where the pain ended and the pleasure began. And I could no longer resist. Tears began to flow and my head was full of regret for having caused him to do this. The words "I'm sorry" circled around and around in my head for an eternity before they finally landed on my tongue and I found my voice.

"I'm sorry, Master." I croaked. I heard the leather strap hit the rug with a dull crash and Remy's hands reached around to grasp my half-erect cock stroking it into full hardness. He murmured endearments as he placed kiss after kiss against my shoulder, making sure not touch the welts that were there. Then he drove his shaft deep into my seared ass causing us both to
gasp. He held it there as if to torment me until I couldn't stand his stillness and moved my hips to fuck him. I think he was testing me in some way. We began a furious pace until he climaxed, falling against my bruised back. The pain drew a cry from me but it also spurred on my orgasm. Remy's name rolled off my lips with a husky rasp over and over.

Thankfully he pulled away soon after I came. The cool air blew against my back easing the pain for a moment. Every nerve was sparking in me and I became nothing but sensations, no thoughts. I could feel hands at my ankles releasing the shackles. But I couldn't move my legs. Then someone, I couldn't remember who at that moment, was in front of me on the bed, releasing my
wrists and dragging my body down onto the mattress.

There was a shout and shortly after words I couldn't comprehend were spoken above me. Then murmurs in my ear, soft caresses to my arms. My tear-streaked face pressed into smooth flesh. And finally blessed darkness came.

I woke once shrieking and struggling against hands that rubbed my back roughly and arms that held me firmly. My skin was raw and sore and a cooling gel was being worked into the muscles. But it stung unmercifully. A hand stoked my head trying to sooth my shrieks as they faded into sobs. "Please stop." I tried to say, but it was only a gurgle from my lips. The voices
raised above me in anger wouldn't have heard my pleas anyway.

"Damn it, Remy! You broke the skin!" That voice was vaguely familiar and oddly comforting. Blindly I waved my hand seeking the comfort of the speaker. His hand grasped mine tightly and he bent to speak into my ear. "It's alright son. It's Dr. Sampson. I'm just dressing your wounds. You'll be okay."

I heard Remy curse. "It's not dat bad. He's strong. He can handle it." Yet his hands were gentle in their grip has he held me.

"I don't give a damn if he can handle it! You shouldn't have done it to begin with!" Came the sharp retort.

"How I discipline m'slaves is my business, hein. You just tend to deir wounds." There was a short pause. "Don't question me, homme, or you'll be looking for anot'er job."

I heard a snort and a slightly amused reply. "You wouldn't get rid of me. I'm the best physician in this country. And esides...you enjoy having someone who'll argue with you. You need it." Dr Sampson's voice grew softer. "Remy, there are alot of men who disapprove of your keeping Alpha Mutants in your stable. And they'd be outraged if they knew you've abused one like this."

"You t'ink I don' know dat?" Remy snapped. "I'll deal wit' it when it becomes a problem. Right now dey can disapprove all dey want. I won' give up dese brot'ers!"

Dr Sampson sighed. "Fine. But I'm warning you, the men that don't approve aren't your real problem. It's the ones that want an Alpha Mutant for their own stables. People like Escalada who want to breed them. Sooner or later an earther is going to notice the disappearances and one just might find a way to get over here. Alpha Mutants of Earth might come to claim their own. Do
you think you or your army can stop them?"

"I'll take care of it!" Remy said impatiently. "Now finish your work and get out!"

There was silence then and the doctor's hands came down to finish spreading
the gel across my back. I felt a sharp prick on my arm. Then there was a
pressure and a burn as something was injected into the muscle.

"He'll be asleep in a few minutes. Let him rest until morning. I'll leave some gel for you to apply when he wakes up. But the worst of it should be healed by then. The gel will keep the lacerations from becoming infected or scarring." The tone was neutral, trying to mask disappointment. But it fell short. Still, Remy said nothing. I heard footsteps, then the click of the
door and I was alone with Remy once again. The pain in my back and buttocks was easing. However I continued to cry silently against his chest.

"Are you sorry, mon cher?" Remy asked with a tenderness that made me weep harder.

"Yes." I managed to choke out.

"You'll behave now? You won' make me do dis to your brot'er?" A threat wrapped in a tender tone and I flinched.

"No Master. I won't."

"Bien." Remy was satisfied with my answers and placed a light kiss on my forehead whispering, "sleep, cher. You're mine and now you know it."

I nodded once and raised a hand to wipe the tears from my eyes, my hand pulling away sweat and tear-soaked. Lethargy was coming on me quickly and soon I floated back into unconsiousness.