Happy Birthday fredbassett!!!!!!!! Hope you're having a lovely day.
I need to go out soon, so I'm going to have to post your fic and run. Hope you enjoy it.
Title: Further Education
Warnings: Smut, shower!porn, non-con slave!AU, pissing.
Disclaimer: Not mine. ITV and Impossible Pictures own them.
Word count: approx 3540
Summary: There are still lessons to be learned.
AN: Birthday fic for fredbassett. Set in the same ficverse as Training, a few weeks later.
AN2: This was supposed to be your basic porn, pissing and punishment fic. Then it somehow turned into angst, backstory, and something vaguely resembling plot development *headdesk*. I have no idea what is wrong with my brain some days...
Ryan slammed his front door hard, and leaned against it for a moment to calm and focus himself. Then he spun round and stormed into the living room.
Becker was already waiting there for him, standing at attention, hands behind his back, his body held rigid, eyes focussed on the wall. One side of his face was smeared with blood and dirt, and Ryan could see a bruise already beginning to form.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Ryan shouted. “Do you enjoy being punished or something?”
Ryan marched right up to him so they were barely inches apart.
“So why the hell do you keep doing this?”
Apparently unable to control the anger in his expression, Becker turned his head a fraction to look Ryan in the eye.
“Would you rather I let the civilians get themselves killed?” he spat back.
Ryan had a fleeting urge to punch his slave purely for his tone of voice, but instead he forced himself to remain calm.
“I told you to watch over them and keep them safe. I did not tell you to go charging in after the creature, shooting wildly, and damn near get yourself killed. Can’t you handle a few civilians, or do you just have a bloody death wish?”
There was a flash of something in Becker’s eyes that Ryan did not like one bit, and suddenly he knew the answer to his last question. Fuck. He decided to ignore it for the moment. He knew he’d have to deal with it at some point, but not right now.
“Listen to me. I know Cutter and his team can be difficult, but they’re not stupid. They know it’s our job to protect them, but that doesn’t include throwing your life away recklessly. I’m pretty fucking sure Cutter wouldn’t want that. So I ask again, why do you find it so difficult to follow a simple order?”
For a moment Becker’s expression twisted into a glare that he rapidly directed at the wall rather than at Ryan. He hesitated for several seconds, and then when he finally spoke, his voice was thick with resentment.
“Because they won’t listen to me, Master. Especially Cutter and Hart. Why should they? They know what I am. They know there’s nothing I can do to stop them doing whatever the hell they want. Wasn’t it you who once said the only way to stop Cutter doing something stupid was to punch him? Well I can’t do that, can I?”
Not without being practically flogged to unconsciousness afterwards, was the additional qualifying comment that hung unspoken between them.
Ryan felt his anger beginning to abate. Suddenly it all made sense.
“Why didn’t you say any of this to me before?”
“Whose word would you have listened to? He’s a professor, I’m a... I’m nothing.”
Becker’s face twisted into an expression of loathing, but Ryan wasn’t sure whether it was directed at him, at Cutter, or at Becker himself.
Ryan reached up and gripped Becker’s jaw, forcing him to turn and make eye contact again.
“I would have listened. I’m not necessarily saying you wouldn’t still have been disciplined, but I would have listened. In future, remember that.”
Becker looked momentarily surprised, but covered it quickly.
“Now go and take a shower. You’re bloody filthy.”
He let go, and Becker turned smartly and headed off upstairs.
Ryan waited until his slave had gone before he let out a tired sigh, and scrubbed his face with hand.
Fuck. He should have seen this. He should have seen it, and he should have done something about it before it had got this far. He knew Becker’s background as a soldier and he knew Becker had a brain, so he had wanted to give him a job which reflected that, rather than just dumping the menial shit on him. It had honestly never occurred to Ryan that the bloody scientists would act that way towards Becker. In fact, now he really thought about it, Ryan had assumed that because of their normally liberal attitudes, the scientists would have more or less ignored the fact that Becker was a slave, and simply treated him the same way they would any of the other soldiers.
And in that assumption, he, Ryan, had failed in his duty to take proper care of his property.
Ryan went and poured himself a drink and downed it in one, closing his eyes as the scotch hit the back of his throat.
He hadn’t even wanted a fucking slave. It was only due to mounting pressure from Lester and his superiors, their insistence that someone in his position ought to have one, that he had finally relented. Even then, he had deliberately chosen a slave with a military background (against advice), because he wanted someone who wouldn’t be a liability on anomaly shouts.
Becker’s attitude hadn’t overly concerned him at first. He assumed it would eventually pass once he had got used to his position. But if anything it had got worse over the last five weeks. Ryan had eventually decided to do a bit of digging into Becker’s background beyond the basic CV and medical history that he had been handed when he acquired Becker.
Apparently he came from money, but it seemed the Becker household had fallen on hard times. Not that Becker’s father would ever admit that in public, of course. Or even to his own family, Ryan guessed. No, Becker senior continued to project the impression of borderline aristocracy, right up until the point when the debt collectors turned up on the doorstep.
At that time, Becker had finished university and had gone on to Sandhurst, by all accounts excelling, and hotly tipped to be top of his graduating class. His three older brothers were all aspiring businessmen, or had connections to the rich and powerful. From what Ryan could surmise, it seemed that Becker’s father had somehow managed to persuade the debt collectors that the outstanding loan that had been used to pay for Becker’s education was actually in his son’s name, not his. Something that had come as a shock to Becker when he was almost literally arrested and dragged off on his way to class one morning.
In short, Becker senior had sold his youngest son into slavery to save his own arse. It was no wonder Becker was resentful.
Still, none of that was Ryan’s concern. What was his concern, though, was the fact that his slave apparently felt that getting himself killed was better than accepting his current position, and that was a situation that Ryan could not allow to continue.
He went to the bathroom, knocked once, and then walked in. Becker was still in the shower and looked round when Ryan entered. He quickly moved to switch off the shower.
“No, carry on,” Ryan told him.
Becker frowned slightly, more from confusion than displeasure, and did as instructed, returning his attention to getting clean.
Ryan watched him for a while, unashamedly enjoying the simple aesthetic qualities of Becker’s young, fit body. He was slightly less pleased to note the new patches of bruising that were beginning to spread across his ribs, and the way that Becker was obviously trying quite hard to prevent the full force of the water impacting on the numerous lash marks on his back.
Quickly coming to a decision, Ryan stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower behind his slave. He saw the way that Becker’s entire body tensed for a moment. He probably thought he was about to get fucked again, Ryan reflected.
Instead, Ryan squirted a generous dollop of shower gel onto his hand and began to gently rub Becker’s shoulders.
Becker flinched away, and turned to look at him with a shocked and confused expression.
“Relax,” Ryan said. He nudged the younger man to turn back around, and continued what he had been doing. Still the tension remained, though. Ryan could feel it in the tight muscles under his hands, and see it in Becker’s stance.
“Regardless of what you might think, I’m not a monster. This isn’t a trick to lull you into a false sense of security. I have no ulterior motives here above and beyond taking care of you, and making sure your injuries are treated.”
Becker hesitated for a moment. Then he drew in a deep breath, and Ryan finally felt the tension release with a broken, shuddering sigh.
He remained surprisingly pliant under Ryan’s ministrations, obeying immediately when Ryan instructed him to turn around, or to allow access to more intimate areas. Eventually, Ryan turned his attention to the many lines that criss-crossed Becker’s back, some already well on the way to healing, others fresh and colourful. Ryan very carefully inspected each one, gently dabbing at them, careful not to dislodge any recent scabs. Throughout this attention, Becker remained completely still, his hands braced against the tiled walls of the shower, his lips pressed tightly closed. Ryan was not entirely sure whether the display of stoicism was for his benefit, or for Becker’s.
Finally satisfied, Ryan let his fingers trail up and down Becker’s sides. He felt a slight shiver under his touch, and did it again. Ryan had not necessarily intended this to turn into sex when he started, but by now his cock had become hard simply from the fact that he was sharing a shower with a good looking young man, and he knew that Becker’s cock had shown more than a passing interest in the situation. He was also aware that after the attention on his scars, and the memories that no doubt provoked, Becker’s cock was now, unsurprisingly, soft again.
Ryan considered his next actions carefully, and then he slipped one hand round Becker’s waist and then downwards, and stroked Becker’s cock. There was an audible gasp, and for a second Becker seemed not to know whether he ought to be pulling away from Ryan’s touch or pushing into it. Ryan used his other hand to grip Becker’s hip, and whispered, “Relax,” into his ear once more.
Becker remained where he was with his hands braced against the wall, the shower spray cascading onto his face and chest. Ryan made sure he was angled in such a way that he saw the moment when Becker finally closed his eyes and gave himself up to the sensations.
Ryan continued his gentle stroking and touching, occasionally caressing his balls as well as his cock, until he heard a quiet, stifled whine. This was the first time he had ever put much effort into Becker’s pleasure. He had fucked his slave on several occasions, and while he had always allowed Becker to come as well, it was usually only as an afterthought. Ryan suspected this may well be the first time that anyone had shown Becker any form of care or compassion since the day that he’d been stripped of everything.
Becker’s orgasm came surprisingly quickly once he had stopped holding himself back. Ryan continued to stroke him through it, drawing it out for him. Ryan wrapped his free arm around Becker’s chest and supported him until he could stand under his own steam again.
“Thank you, Master.”
Becker’s voice was so quiet Ryan barely heard him. For once it sounded like a genuine statement of gratitude, and not simply an expected, automatic response.
They stood there for a while, Ryan continuing to hold Becker close. He knew Becker could certainly feel Ryan’s cock pressed against his arse, and for a while Becker seemed to be unsure about what was going to happen next.
Ryan reached round him and switched the shower off.
“Go on, we’re done in here.”
Becker’s expression was a picture of surprise and confusion, but he did as instructed and stepped out of the shower. Ryan followed him and indicated the towels hanging on the rail. Becker took one, and then looked back at Ryan.
“Do you want me to dry you, Master?”
It was tempting, but Ryan decided that wasn’t appropriate to the lesson he was trying to impart right then.
“No, just pass me the towel. And you can dry yourself.”
The next few minutes passed in silence. Ryan was watching Becker carefully, and he couldn’t help noticing that Becker’s gaze kept repeatedly straying towards Ryan’s still hard cock. The fact that he hadn’t simply been fucked right there in the shower must have thrown him far more than Ryan had expected. Again, Ryan realised, that wasn’t part of what he intended. He decided it was time to put Becker out of his misery, so to speak.
“On your knees.”
Becker quickly hung his towel back on the rail and complied, dropping to his knees right in front of Ryan, his head bowed. Ryan dumped his own towel on the floor. Then he placed a finger under Becker’s chin and brought his head up. Ryan’s cock was right in front of his face, and Becker didn’t waste any time in leaning forwards and taking it into his mouth.
Ryan ran his fingers through Becker’s wet hair, and then down until he found the slave collar and traced along the edge of it. Becker flinched at the reminder, but managed to stay focussed on the task at hand. Ryan was impressed. The first few times he had done that, Becker had been almost unable to stop himself from pulling back, or to prevent the revulsion showing on his face. There were times when Ryan felt sorry for him, especially once he found out how the young man had ended up wearing a collar in the first place. But Ryan also knew he could never, ever, let Becker, or anyone else, know that.
Ryan had been somewhat surprised to discover that Becker had never given a blow job before he was enslaved. He had proved to be a fast learner, but it didn’t take long for Ryan to notice that on this occasion Becker seemed to be going the extra mile to do it well. He was taking care to do the little things that Ryan particularly liked, not just occasionally, but a lot. He was drawing it out, rather than trying to get it over with as quickly as possible. Even his expression seemed to be more one of careful concentration, rather than the barely concealed distaste that normally accompanied this task. Ryan relaxed his grip of Becker’s hair and simply let his hand rest there, while his other hand continued to tease at the collar. His orgasm hit him with a surprising intensity, and Ryan involuntarily bucked, and he came in Becker’s mouth.
When Ryan was certain he could stand without his legs shaking, he let go of Becker and stepped back. Becker stretched his jaw, and Ryan saw him glance up for a second, perhaps wanting to gauge the look on Ryan’s face, before he bowed his head again.
Ryan considered his next move carefully. He may not have wanted a slave in the first place, but now he had one, Ryan was damned if he was going to do a half-arsed job of training and keeping him.
“Look at me, hands behind your back,” Ryan ordered, the gentleness gone from his voice.
Becker’s head came up immediately, a wary look in his eyes at the abrupt change in tone.
Ryan directed his cock at Becker for a second time, and this time a stream of piss hit Becker’s chest. Ryan maintained eye contact throughout, and was satisfied with Becker’s lack of obvious reaction. It had taken a while for him to learn to hide his obvious hatred of this act, and that was partly why Ryan made sure he did it as often as possible. He hadn’t had much to drink in the last few hours, so there wasn’t much to it, but there was enough to make his point.
He wiped himself clean on some loo roll, sparing Becker from having to use his mouth on this one occasion, and then picked up his discarded towel and wrapped it around his waist. He never once broke eye contact with his slave. He wanted to make sure he had Becker’s full attention for this. It was probably the most important lesson he needed to learn.
“You are my slave. I own you. You don’t have to like it, but you do have to accept it.”
Becker’s expression remained carefully controlled.
“Your life is mine. But that also means I have a responsibility to protect you, take care of you, and to ensure your safety and wellbeing. Especially on those occasions when the laws governing slaves prevents you from acting in your own best interests.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “If you are being endangered by the actions of others then I need to know about it, is that clear?”
Becker’s eyes widened a fraction, but he nodded.
“Good. Now I’m going to give you a choice. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. You can start working with me and trusting me, or you can keep fighting me and keep giving me reasons to have to discipline you. I know you are not a stupid man, Becker. But it’s your choice. Probably one of the few really important choices that is genuinely yours to make right now. Easy way, or hard way.”
A variety of emotions seemed to be at war in Becker’s eyes, and his mouth opened and closed a couple of times without any words coming out.
“I don’t expect an answer,” Ryan said. “I’ll know what you’ve decided by your behaviour.”
Becker nodded once. For a moment he seemed to be struggling to maintain eye contact, but he quickly gained control again.
Ryan wondered if Becker was finally starting to understand that their relationship wasn’t just about punishment and discipline. Ryan wondered if he could ask the same question of himself.
“Stand up. Clean yourself up,” Ryan eventually allowed.
Becker obeyed immediately, and quickly wiped himself down and washed his chest at the sink. If he was surprised he didn’t show it. Ryan had an occasional tendency to not let him get rid of the urine for some time. It was crude, but it was an effective reminder of ownership. But right then, Ryan decided his point had been made without the need for that. Besides, it rather defeated the object of the shower.
Once he was dried off (again), he looked to Ryan for instruction.
“Go get dressed. Then start assembling something for dinner. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
Becker’s forehead creased for a moment.
“Master, are... aren’t you going to punish me?”
Ryan usually got straight to it as soon as they were home if he was going to have to discipline him. He knew there were some slave owners who liked to use psychology, to increase the fear and anticipation, but Ryan felt there was no point dragging it out by making him wait. Best to get it over with and then they could both move on.
“I’m not going to use the whip, no. But after dinner you are going to sit down and write me a full, thorough and accurate report of every single anomaly situation that has resulted in you being disciplined. You are going to handwrite every one of them, legibly, and they will be done before you go to bed tonight, however long that takes.”
At Ryan’s last count that was no less than twelve separate occasions. By the time he finished handwriting that lot, Becker’s hand and wrist were no doubt going to be sore enough to do the job just as well as any beating. Only this punishment had the added benefit of something productive at the end of it.
Becker looked surprised, and then something else. Something that was so completely unfamiliar that it took Ryan a moment to place it. Grateful.
“Yes, Master. Thank you.”
“When I’ve read them all, I’m going to talk to Cutter. I can’t promise that anything I say will change the way he or his team behaves, but I will make it clear that his actions have consequences for other people.”
Ryan was actually damn sure that Cutter would be horrified to discover that his behaviour had resulted in another man being repeatedly punished. If nothing else, it might shock him into taking more care, for a while, at least.
Becker was at the door when he suddenly stopped and turned round.
“Master? Permission to speak freely?”
This was another first. Ryan nodded.
“I...” Becker hesitated, as if trying to decide what to say, or possibly how to say it. Then he looked Ryan right in the eye. “I’ve never thought you were a monster, sir.”
Ryan was still speechless when Becker closed the door behind him. He finally allowed a smile to creep onto his face. He had a suspicious feeling that he had just made more progress with his slave in the last hour than he had managed in all the previous five weeks.
Here ends the lesson.
He just wasn’t entirely sure which of them had learnt the most.