"Then you belong to Aaron," he shrugs.
"Nothing else?"
"No. The same as last night." He shrugs again, licking his lips in eager anticipation as Saunders delivers yet another savage blow to Skinner's body. Skinner grunts as he takes it, his eyes rolling back into his head. Then somehow, I don't know how, he manages to roll free and stagger to his feet, breathing too heavily, covered in sweat and blood and bruises. He staggers in my direction, but Saunders is on him again almost immediately, and, throwing himself at my boss, brings him crashing down at my feet. I make the most of the opportunity and kneel down beside his prone body and talk to him.
"Just give in. Say the fucking words. I'll keep my promise. Please. Please," I whisper to him. He looks at me, and I'm not sure if he's understood, then he shakes his head, partly in answer to my question, partly to clear it.
"I can't," he says. "You know that." Then Saunders is on him again. I'm so angry I can't keep still, wrenching at the cuff until my wrist starts to bleed.
"Fuck you, it's all right to make me promise not to fight back, but you won't do it for me. Fuck you!" I scream at him, but I'm not sure if he's even heard me as Saunders cracks him hard across the jaw. Sweat and blood both spew in my direction and I can see Nick react as if he's been shown some hot porn. He's loving this; he's so involved in it that he's lost himself. He doesn't see the pain or genuine emotional suffering, but then why should he? He doesn't know that neither Skinner nor I get off on this. As far as he knows, we've come here because we enjoy all this as much as any of the other warped Mithras motherfuckers. I can't see how Skinner can hold out for much longer, and there's no point in it, anyway. He doesn't stand a chance of winning now.
Saunders suddenly seizes Skinner's head and delivers one final, bone-jarring punch, and I can see my man fall back, unconscious. I know that it isn't a trick, but after last night, Saunders isn't taking any chances. He rolls Skinner's eyelid back before getting up, a look of smug satisfaction on his face. Then, with one contemptuous flick of his foot, he rolls Skinner over in the sand, and stands with his foot resting on my lover's forehead.
"Challenge over, Mr. Skinner," he laughs, looking down on my boss' prone form. Skinner doesn't even blink. This time he's genuinely out cold. Saunders head snaps up and he looks directly at me. "So, Fox. Come to Daddy," he smiles, holding his arms out wide. "I think it's time I took you home to bed, don't you?"
There won't be any more challenges this evening. The hour is up. I have no idea how Skinner kept going for the full hour, but I'm scared that he might be dead. He certainly needs immediate medical attention. He has to after the punishment he took this evening, especially considering his already fragile state of health. Saunders has the keys to the cuffs, and he's crossing over to us. He releases Nick, who kisses him all over, abasing himself at Saunders's feet and licking them in a frenzy of post-fight adoration.
Saunders enjoys this for a moment, and I'm pleased to see that there are some dark bruises on his body. He hasn't got away completely unscathed. Then Saunders comes to stand in front of me. He lifts my chin and looks into my downcast, sullen eyes.
"We know you're temperamental, Fox," he says softly. "So I'm not going to undo the cuff just yet. I'm going to make a deal with you. If you come quietly, then I'll get a couple of the other tops to carry your former master to his room. How does that sound? If you make a fuss, then I'll just leave him here in the sand, in his own blood."
"I'll do as you say." My throat is so dry that I can barely speak and he nods approvingly, running a finger along my jaw and down my throat.
"Good boy."
He unlocks the cuff and Nick grabs hold of me and kisses me, then puts an arm around me and leads me towards the door. I twist my head to catch one last glimpse of my lover, lying in the sand, his eyes closed. I can just make out the rise and fall of his chest and console myself that he is at least still alive, but that image of him, lying like a wounded animal on the floor, is seared deep into my mind. Saunders gives the order to have him taken back to our room, and then he puts his arm around my other shoulder and, between them, he and Nick propel me down the corridors to meet my next ordeal.
"That was very satisfying." Saunders stretches out his body and grins at Nick as we enter their room. When I'm safely inside, he turns a key in the lock and puts it safely on a chain around his neck. "Boys that run have to be protected from themselves." He smiles wolfishly at me. "Now, see to the bath, Nick, while I examine Fox."
Examine? Fuck. Nick grins and disappears into the bathroom, while Saunders approaches me. He places one of his hands in my hair, and holds me under the light, looking at me keenly. The fingers of his other hand inspect my face, part my lips, and run down over my chin, lingering on my neck. His eyes devour me at the same time.
"You're pretty, of course, but so wild." He kisses me on the forehead. "I think you long to be restrained, don't you?"
"Whatever you say," I mutter, trembling in his grip.
"That's right. That's good. You know the right words, but you need to feel them, Fox." He kisses me again, on the cheek, his lips wandering down further, finding mine. His tongue parts them, and he's inside my mouth, tasting unfamiliar, unwanted. I stand, stock-still, as tense and skittish as a scared foal. He draws back.
"You'll submit," he whispers. "Because they all do in the end. It's in your soul, and you just need to recognize it. When you do, you'll submit, because that's when you're happiest. I can make you happy all the time, dear Fox. You want my strength. You crave it." He's kneading his body into mine, and I can feel his erection against my thigh. I fight off a feeling of nausea.
"Yes. Whatever," I state numbly, remembering my promise. He slaps me hard across the cheek, leaving a burning red mark on my face, and I clench my fists.
"Just words. No feeling behind them. You must know that I'll demand more than that." He smiles again, that creepy, sinister smile. "And don't speak unless I give you permission. It's my first rule. Nick has permission when we are together like this, although not in public. You haven't earned it yet, and I don't anticipate that you will for quite some time. You may ask for permission to speak whenever you like, but I won't always grant it. You can answer direct questions. Understood?"
"Yes." I nod, warily. This has to be a nightmare. I can't get through this. I can't do what he wants, and I cannot serve him, much less sleep with him. I notice that Nick has come back into the room.
"Your bath is ready, sir," he says, his eyes lingering longingly on Saunders's battle-scarred body.
"Good. Fox—you can have the honor of undressing me tonight."
I gaze at him, fighting my own revulsion.
"Thank me," he says warningly.
"Thank you, sir," I mutter, and he smiles and slaps me again, even harder than before, my whole face swinging sideways as a result of the blow.
"As if you mean it next time, Fox," he says smoothly.
I follow him into the bathroom and reach shaking fingers to his pants, undo his belt, and push his trousers down his thighs. He didn't bother to put his shirt back on after the Arena, so there isn’t much undressing to do. I close my eyes and put my thumbs in the waistband of his briefs, pushing them down as well. He steps out of them, and eases himself into the huge circular tub with a sigh. Then he waves a hand at us.
"Join me," he orders.
Nick undresses in nanoseconds and slides in beside his master, nuzzling up to him shamelessly. I undo my jeans and take them off, no longer sure whether I have any embarrassment glands left in my body after all I've been through here. I get into the water and sit stiffly, facing them.
Saunders laughs out loud. "Come here, and bring the soap with you. I want to see how well you've been trained, and if you know how to serve."
I do as I'm told without spilling too much water, and manage to soap him all over and then rub him down with a washcloth.
I still can't believe that this is happening. I remember my apartment, my office as if they're old friends—familiar, everyday places that I don't think I'll ever visit again. I am not this person, but the truth is that I don't know what person I am anymore. I never knew I wanted to sleep with Skinner until a few days ago. Supposing I now find out that I'm a raging queen who wants to be nailed by everything with a dick? Maybe I have an insatiable desire to suck other men's cocks, or to be fucked. Maybe, just maybe, all I want to do is kneel at the feet of a man like Saunders, and let him do what he likes with me. How the hell should I know? How well can I really say that I know myself?
Saunders doesn't linger over his bath and I'm not surprised—he obviously wants to move on to the main event. As I soap him, he fondles me, his fingers running along my cock, and down over my balls, pressing up between the crease in my ass. I don't protest, clamping my jaws shut, but my nerves are on edge and I'm not sure whether I'll be able to stop myself fighting back when things really start to heat up. And somehow I'm sure that they will.
He gets out of the bath, and Nick hands me a big towel to dry him with. This is an intricate ceremony, like some sort of Japanese tea ritual. I'm told that I must start at his feet, and kiss each area as I work. I go quickly about this task, pressing unwilling lips against his body until another slap stops me.
"Really, Fox. Are all your lessons going to be learned the hard way?" he asks. "Begin again. Do you remember that massage you gave to your former master? I expect to see a similar level of devotion now."
I try my best, closing my eyes, and imagining that it's Skinner I'm drying. It works to a certain extent. This isn't me... I whisper over and over again in my head. I'm not here, I'm detached, but Saunders is too clever to buy this.
"Next time, you'll keep your eyes open in order to remind yourself exactly who your master is," he hisses, grabbing my hair and delivering another swinging blow across my cheek.
When the drying is over, he pushes me to my knees in front of him and holds my face between his hands. I know what he wants before he asks. His cock is hard and swollen, and he rubs it against the side of my face.
"Show us your skill, boy," he says, his tone hard and urgent. He presses his cock into my unwilling mouth, and I gag, drawing back and retching.
"Nick—go into the other room and bring me a crop," Saunders says, and Nick does as he's told. I stare up at Saunders in alarm, and he grips my jaw tight and glares at me. "You'll do it, Fox, or I'll beat you. It's really that simple. I won't ask you to enjoy it, not this evening, anyway. We'll save that for later on in your servitude. Now do it."
He takes the crop that Nick has brought him and runs it lightly over the welts on my back. This time, when he pushes into my mouth, I obey him, closing my eyes, and concentrating every atom of my body on doing as I've been told, doing as I promised Skinner I would. Luckily, he's already so turned on by the events of the evening that he comes quickly, without much effort from me, and, withdrawing from my mouth, he takes great delight in holding my hair as he spurts out over my chest. I don't think I've ever felt more degraded in my entire life.
"Good boy," he murmurs. "Now clean yourself up and join me in the other room. Nick—help me into my robe."
Nick swiftly obeys and ushers his master into the bedroom while I wash his semen from my body. It makes me feel sick, and I can't stop myself rushing to the toilet and puking up. Nick comes back in time to witness this.
"Oh, Fox." He strokes my back tenderly as I throw up some more. "Please, Fox. Just relax. It can be so good. You'll see. I'll help you. Forget your old master. You're with us now." He talks soothingly, softly. "Don't let him hear you," he whispers. "Try to keep quiet. There, there."
At least all this vomiting answers one question for me. Whatever it is I feel for Skinner, it's about more than just sex. When I'm finally finished, Nick gives me a glass of water, which I swill down in one go, then he takes my hand and leads me back into the other room. I feel as if I can't put one foot in front of the other. I'm dangerously close to betraying my promise to Skinner, even though I know it won't do me any good. I want to throw myself at Saunders, to punch him down, strangle him, and hurt him so bad that he doesn't get up again, and instead he expects me to caress him with every semblance of enjoyment? I can't do it.
Saunders is sitting in the armchair, which has been placed facing the bed. He instructs me to stand in front of him, and he fondles my body. His fingers play with my cock, linger on my balls, and stroke my inner thighs. I bite down with all my force on my bottom lip.
"Stop that. It's such a pretty lip." Saunders is looking at me sharply, and I'm surprised to feel the trickle of hot blood running down my chin. "Now, Fox, I want to watch my two beautiful slaves enjoying each other. Go over to the bed with Nick. Go on." He pushes me firmly, and sits back in his chair, undoes his robe, and holds his cock as he anticipates his evening's entertainment.
