When we got back to the bedroom, Remy wasn't there. I'd been so excited that he'd called us back so soon that I'd expected him to be waiting for us. He wasn't and I was filled with bitterness and jealousy. We still did not seem to matter to him.

Two more days passed before we saw him again. Remy greeted us warmly, full of love and affection. Until he asked me to play my guitar. When he saw the state it was in he exploded. Could I not take care of the gifts I was given? Spoiled he called me and cursed me in French and Cajun. There was nothing I could say to appease him. And when Alex tried to step in, to say it was an accident, Remy cracked him hard across the cheek.

"You know de pressure I'm under, hein?! All I ask when I come home is to relax, to enjoy a quiet evening in pleasure. And what to I get?!" He turned on me, his face inches from mine. "Ungrateful cheins! Breaking dere toys cause dey t'ink dey're bein' passed over!" I flinched slightly under the truth of his words. Remy's red eyes began to glow. "You t'ink all dese nights I've been away, I've been 'aving a grand time?" He asked, grabbing my chin and digging his fingers into my skin. "I need a wife, homme! De pressure is building. Council members saying dat I must honor de old ways and marry. Produce an heir! And so I must be paraded in front of all de eligible daughters of my court like some fatted calf. And den to 'ave to come back here and deal wit' your tantrums?! Merde!" He thrust me away and hollered for the guards.

"Take him to de playroom," Remy ordered through clenched teeth. "Lock him in de stocks and put de cock device on him." I stepped back, eyes wide in shock and anger. I tried to push back the rising panic. Not that. Not again. I tried again to apologize. If he'd only listen. "I...I'm..." I swallowed in a too dry throat. "I'm sorry!" I choked out.

But Remy just waved a hand. "Too late! Maybe a night in de stocks will teach you treat de gifts I give you better, eh?"

I glanced over at Alex as one of the guards took my arm. He stood by looking helpless, his face red where Remy had struck him. And has I watched him stepped toward Remy, my fear evaporated, leaving only a quiet fury. "Master, please," he began in a beseeching voice.

"Non!" Remy whirled to look at him. "Don' say anot'er word unless you want to join him!"

Alex started to speak again, when I barked out, "No! Alex shut up!" There was no sense in both of us suffering. And I had to admit I blamed Alex for my own punishment then. He'd been the one to abandon me, causing my 'tantrum'. I didn't want him down there with me whining about how sorry he was. I didn't want to be near him right then. I'd take my punishment if it meant I could be away from the two people I hated most in world at that moment.

My brother opened his mouth, but seeing the stern look on my face, a look that told him how pissed I'd be if he came with me, a look of blame, he might have seen, and a look that promised rebellion, he closed his mouth again and dropped his head.

I let the guards lead me away, not even bothering to look at Remy, or my brother. I didn't fight. But after they'd locked me down and began to prepare me for the cock ring I cursed violently at them, calling them every foul name I could think of. They ignored me and finished snapping the device in place, leaving my cock throbbing with familiar pain. Then they left the room after turning off the lights. *Come full circle,* I thought bitterly and tried to sleep.

I wasn't sure what day it was when the guards returned with two slaves following behind. Time was again lost on me. I'd been barely able to doze and sleep deprivation had muddled my mind. Every muscle ached and my cock throbbed relentlessly. When the door opened and the lights came on, I could only groan in pain from the brightness and in relief that my punishment was at an end. But then I was informed that it wasn't quite over.

"Five lashes," one of the guards grunted.

My head shot up, knocking against the wood of the stocks. "No!" I shouted, finding my voice. "Remy never ordered that!"

The guard sneered. "He gave us the order when he told us to come get you." I suddenly saw the leather strap swinging menacingly from his hand.

"NO! God NO!" I screamed. It did no good. He took his place behind me and struck my back, putting all his weight into the blow. Being whipped that first time by Remy had been worse only because of the number of lashes he'd given me. All the breath went out of me. And I had no time to draw back before the second one landed just above my sacrum. By the fifth crack of the strap I was wheezing, tears pouring down my face, choking on the phlegm in my throat. I struggled for every breath of air. I was sure I was about to throw up. But then my torso and arms were released from the stocks and I fell heavily into the arms of guard who'd beat me. I swore at him through a thick phlegmatic voice, dredging up even more vile words than the last time. Then I did throw up. The guard turned my body on it's side to keep me from asphyxiating on the bile and snot, chuckling at my weakness.

"There, there now," he said to me sarcastically. "See what happens when you get mad at your betters, slave?" When I'd finished coughing and gagging, he motioned to one of the slaves standing nearby. "Clean him up." The slave looked puzzled for a moment. "Use your hand!" The guard barked.

The young slave bent down and wiped up the spittle from my lips, gesturing for me to open my mouth. Using his fingers he scooped out a few long strands of clear spit. I wanted to do it myself, embarrassed by this show of weakness, but my arms hung stiffly at my sides. I could barely twitch my fingers. Finally he stepped back and I spit out the last of the phlegm. Then my ankles were unlocked and I was dragged from the stocks and lifted up onto a masseuse table, just as I'd been the first time I was released from the stocks. And I realized that the two slaves were Bert and Ernie, the ones who had worked on my body that first time.

I quieted myself and let them work. But silent tears fell. I couldn't believe Remy had ordered this. I could feel myself sinking slowly into depression. And thinking, however irrationally, that I'd deserved it. I'd been ungrateful.

Finally the two slaves were finished. My circulation had returned and the sparks of pain trailing up my arms and legs had eased. My back ached, but I could feel it was only bruised. With a weak push, I swung my body sideways and placed my feet on the floor. I used the table to force myself up into an unsteady standing positions. The guards were at my side immediately. Each taking an arm, they half drug me from the room. One of them called to the slaves to clean up the mess I'd made. Just as we entered the hallway, the guards stopped and one of them produced a thick metal chain. Unlike the leashes Remy had used, this one locked in place. The lock was coded so that to remove it, one had to know the combination.

When it was secured to my collar, I was dragged back upstairs to Remy's bedroom. Still not quite over the stiffness and pain from the long night, I stumbled along after the guards, desperately trying to keep pace. They seemed to find amusement in my predicament, the one holding my leash yanking it often and quite roughly when I lagged behind. Several times I tripped, crashing to my knees on the hard marbled floors of the castle hallways. The guards never slowed down and I had to scurry to get to my feet or be dragged across the floor. By the time we reached the door to the suite, several bruises were beginning to form on my knees and elbows and the heels of my hands. I could feel my neck torn in several places and abrased in others where the collar had ground against the skin when I'd been to slow to get to my feet. My head was throbbing. And my cock was still secured in the ring. I prayed to God that Remy wouldn't be there to demand more of my attention. And I prayed that he would be there, so he could see how harshly I'd been treated by the guards and perhaps take pity on me.

He wasn't anywhere to be seen when I was shoved into the bedroom. Alex was lying at the end of the four poster bed, a chain leash similar to mine locked to his collar at one end and secured at the other end to a ring in the right post of the bed about two inches off the floor. When he looked up to see me stagger through the door, he got to his knees. The guard brutally shoved me toward the left post of the bed and I stumbled to my knees next to Alex. My brother caught me by my shoulders then and hugged me to him before I could warn him about the lash marks. As soon as I hissed in pain, he released me to look over my shoulder at the welts.

"Shit!" He cursed. Suddenly the guard who'd come in with me moved between us and drove Alex back with his spear.

"There is to be no talking between you two by order of Lord Remy. Or touching." He then ordered me to kneel close to the left post and locked the chain to the ring attached near the bottom. Then he stepped back and grinned at me cruelly. "You can take off that cock ring though." I looked at him warily as if it were some kind of trick to get me punished further. But then he added, "Any mess you make you better lick up. Lord Remy wouldn't like to see his carpet stained." I snarled. He knew I'd probably cum the moment I removed the penile device. And I doubt he would have given me anything to wipe up the sperm. I'd have to clean it up with my hands and mouth. After having thrown up once today, I knew my stomach wouldn't be able to cope with sucking down my own jism, so I left the device on for now. With a smirk, the guard stepped back and took up position at the wall across from us. Apparently he was to make certain we followed Remy's orders.

I knelt in place for a long moment, refusing to look at Alex. The helpless fury I'd felt during the entire ordeal was gaining momentum and I was afraid I wouldn't be able to stop myself from striking out at him. But I could feel his hopeless gaze on me. He knew I was blaming him, might have even understood the depth of my hatred, and he was looking for absolution. I couldn't give it to him. Not right then.

Finally, I stretched out on the soft carpet with my back to Alex and closed my eyes trying to sleep. But I couldn't find a comfortable position in which to rest. I couldn't lie on my back because of the sting of the lash marks. When I rolled onto my stomach, my bruised knees chafed against the carpet. And in any position, the collar around my neck dug into the cuts and abrasions. I tossed and turned restlessly until simple fatigue wore me down and I fell into an uneasy sleep. I knew Alex was watching me the entire time. I knew he tried at one point to convey some comfort. But as he reached his hand out to stroke my tormented body, the vigilant guard stepped forward and cracked Alex's forearm with the end of his spear.

"No touching!" He shouted. "I have orders to break your fingers if you do!" Alex was sensible enough not to challenge the order, but I could feel the heat of his rage flowing out from him, and my own anger abated.

When I woke from my fitful sleep, I rolled over to find Alex still staring at me. His eyes shone with anger and unshed tears. And beneath it I spotted pure desolation. I wanted to touch him then. My own anger toward him had been quelled by a heavy weight of depression that had come upon me while I slept. And all I wanted to do at that moment was to hug Alex. I only had enough energy for that. I rose to my hands and knees intent on crawling over to him, but he shook his head and looked over to where the guard was standing. He was straightening up with a warning scowl, so I sat back on my knees, closed my eyes and hung my head. This inability to touch or speak or comfort my brother was maddening. It was worse than being locked into the stocks. I dropped back down onto my side, letting the wave of depression take hold of me.

Night was falling when I looked over at Alex again. He was stretched out on his side watching me. His head rested on his left elbow and he was running a finger through the thick carpet. At first the motions of his hand appeared random and casual, as if he were simply bored. He'd swirl the finger in a circle, then slash down in a straight line. After a moment he'd run the palm of his hand across the rug, smoothing out the indentations he had made, never once taking his eyes off me. Circle, circle, line, circle, smooth. It took me several minutes of watching him before I realized he was writing words. A message. My eyes widened in excitement, but he frowned and gave a sharp jerk up with his head. 'Don't alert the guard,' he was saying. I closed my eyes and then opened them just a fraction to look at the guard through my lashes. He wasn't paying much attention to us, so I went back to watching my brother. For a long while I couldn't make out what he was writing and I was getting frustrated by the effort. The letters seemed familiar, but the words didn't seem to make sense. I thought it was a trick of the light, or Alex wasn't writing them clearly enough. But then one of the symbols became clear to me. It was Sh'iar for the letter X. Alex was writing in Sh'iar. I held back a bark of laughter, but one side of my mouth twitched up in a lopsided grin. My brother's face lit up and he let out a pent up sigh.

Smoothing out the carpet one more time, Alex wrote, "Sorry."

"Oh shut up." I answered. But Alex knew I wasn't angry anymore. At least not at him.

We used this form of communication until the sun began to set and the guard lowered the lights in the room. Then a servant brought us the evening meal consisting of a rice and broccoli casserole, bread and water. I sat up to eat and realized suddenly that the length of the chain wouldn't allow me to stand up. Why I hadn't noticed that before seem peculiar to me. I could only rise to my knees by moving closer to the post, or stretch out over the carpet. Fortunately the rug was soft and comfortable. But I felt like a dog chained to its dog house. It was humiliating and no doubt intentional. Alex and I were vulnerable in this position, with little leverage to strike out at any assailants. I don't think I'd ever felt more like a slave has I did being chained to that bedpost.

"Escape." I wrote over and over as we ate, watching the guard through lowered eyes, making sure he wasn't watching us too closely. I was getting very good at looking up through lowered lashes.

Alex just gave a slight shake of the head every so often and wrote, "this won't last." It wasn't much comfort.

After we'd finished eating, we were taken one at a time to the bathroom to relieve our bladders and get ready for sleep. I was stiff getting to my feet and stumbled several times to the door of the bathroom. But I couldn't think of anything more wonderful than those first few minutes positioned over the urinal as I removed the cock ring and ejaculated forcefully. It was a pain so exquisite it bordered on ecstasy. The pressure was gone, my bladder soon empty and I had to slump down on the toilet for a moment to regain my equilibrium. A moment more and I felt a wash of relief that I had waited to remove the hideous device. The guard made no mention of it as he stood by the door waiting for me to finish up. I ignored him as much as I could, out of anger and spite, taking my time as I filled the tub and began to soak my still sore limbs. But it wasn't long before he ordered me out of the bath, stating that my time was up. I got out with a sigh, although all-in-all feeling a good deal more human. I continued to ignore the guard for a few minutes more, taking the time to brush my teeth. I think I was goading him in a way, challenging him to assert whatever authority he had over me. But he simply left me alone to finish up, and soon I had no real excuse to stay in the bathroom. And of course, Alex was waiting for his turn.

The guard locked me back in place, and then escorted my brother into the bathroom. I lay there, listening to the faint sound of the shower running, feeling drowsy, but unable to sleep. My mind remained constantly alert to the sounds of the suite. Alex didn't take near as much time as I had, returning within minutes and settling down on his side facing me. He was almost asleep by the time he'd rested his head in the bend of his elbow. I watched him for a long time, listening to the sound of him sleeping peacefully. It was helping my mind wind down. But still I couldn't quite pass over into sleep. I was waiting for Remy. I thought if I could only speak to him, beg his forgiveness, he'd let us up. Eventually weariness in both my body and spirit wore me down and I dozed off.

When I was awaken by the stream of sunlight shining through the window, there was no evidence that Remy had ever returned. The bed had not been slept in and a new guard was maintaining the watch over us.

Alex and I were fed breakfast, then allowed to go to the bathroom to freshen up. We were locked back in place afterward and time drifted on. The sun rose higher in the sky and with so little to do, I slept for a bit. Around midday two guards came in and unlocked us from the bed. We were escorted to the gym and ordered to exercise. Then we were ordered to shower, all the while told to maintain the proper distance between each other. Even here we weren't allowed to speak. When we'd finished showering we were led back to our place at the end of Remy's bed and again chained to the posts. We were fed a light lunch. Then an afternoon of waiting followed while Alex and I perfected our communication technique. I didn't bother mentioning escape to Alex. It seemed so futile by then. Even chained like a dog to his post, my brother wouldn't contemplate breaking out of his captivity. The evening passed with little change from the previous night. A new guard stood watch. We ate and then were escorted to the bathroom. And then we settled in for the night. And still Remy stayed away.

Two more days went by without a change in the pattern, and if Alex and I hadn't been able to talk through the carpet writing I really believe I would have gone insane. The only voices we ever heard came from the guards. Just a few simple words to each other as they changed shift. Or an occasional bark at my brother and I when we got too close to each other. I hungered for the sound of Alex's voice. I craved his touch. Why was Remy punishing us in this way? Surely my small infraction didn't warrant this kind of treatment. The guitar was cracked, but not beyond repair. What was the underlying cause of Remy's wrath? Pressure from the council? Anger from having to entertain all those eligible daughters? And how could I get him to see how wrong this punishment was? It didn't fit the crime. At least to my way of thinking.

I had my chance on the fourth day when Remy finally returned. But he said absolutely nothing to us, only acknowledging the guard with a swift nod as he began to undress. I had risen to my knees has he strode through the door. Alex was slowly waking from a nap. When he wouldn't even look at us I had to speak. "Rem...Master."

"Quiet slave!" The guard growled. He took a menacing step toward me. I glared at him and then glanced quickly at Alex who was now kneeling beside me. Then I turned my attention back to Remy. He had his back to me and was donning his silk robe. "Please! You have to..."

"Quiet!" The guard roared. In two long strides he was before me. Using his considerable weight he slapped me palm open across the face, knocking me onto my rear. The force of the blow drove my head into the post I was chained to, momentarily stunning me. I heard my brother curse and move toward me, but the guard stepped between us, shoving him back.

"Filthy mongrels!" He snarled, his voice full of contempt. "Lay down like the ungrateful dogs that you are! Lord Remy never gave you permission to speak!"

When I turned to where Remy had been standing a minute before he was gone. My heart sank. Not even a disapproving look to acknowledge our disrespect.

Fuck. "Even a dog gets a pat on the head once in a while." I muttered.

Alex snorted. "Guess we're not the favorite dogs anymore."

The guard barked at us to shut up.