Teaser for Redemption by Remy Martin

MAS-Zine #3
Strappado de luxe

Spring 2003

Teaser for REDEMPTION
by Remy Martin | illustrated by Helm
MAS-Zine issue#3 Spring Edition Strappado de luxe |
All rights reserved | kanallje press

REDEMPTION

It was a full week before they tested Joran again. He'd been quiet and obedient, hadn't lost it after that first night. He spent each night in Lukas's bed, where they lay together silently, Lukas's hand on his belly or stroking his hair. He found it easier to enter the bed each night, easier to respond to Lukas's or Rurik's voices without panicking or falling apart.

It couldn't last, of course. They couldn't afford to wait long. Joran was pulling on his pajamas when Rurik came up and said, "No need for that, gosse, you're with me tonight. Strip and come to bed."

It was a shock Joran wasn't prepared for, and before he could think a response fell out. "Oh sir, no."

The other three looked up in astonishment. He squirmed under their stares, tried to explain. "I mean, I don't think – if you could just—"

Lukas exchanged an unreadable look with Rurik, then crossed the room in a single stride. "Hold still," he said, pulled back his hand, and slapped Joran hard across the face. Joran stood perfectly motionless, the red handprint outlined on his pale cheek. Behind his glasses, Lukas's deep blue eyes were tranquil. "Let's try that answer again, shall we?" he asked.

"I only meant—"Joran stammered, "I only meant that Rurik isn't very gentle, and I'm afraid he's going to rip me apart inside if he—"

"The proper response to Rurik's command is what, Joran?"

"Is 'yes, sir.'"

"Correct."

"But sir, what if—"

"Joran," very softly, "do you want to go down on the floor again?"

Joran shivered in spite of himself. "No, sir, I don't."

Lukas looked at Rurik. "Tell him again."

Rurik shrugged and pushed his dark hair behind his ears. "Strip off and get into bed with me." "Yes, sir." Joran tried to keep his mind level. He pulled his clothes off, clutching at them before dropping them to the floor. He slid into the bed with Rurik, schooled his features into a mask of control, and tried to think of something that might mitigate what he'd said. "What do you want me to do, sir?" he asked Rurik.

"I want you to turn onto your stomach," said Rurik pleasantly, "spread your legs, and pull your knees up."

Joran obeyed, trying not to flash on the last time Rurik had taken him. He knew it had been ordered, knew intellectually that Rurik took little joy in causing pain, but the touch of fingers on his hips made him shake. "Hold still, gosse," remarked Rurik. "I'll never get it in if you keep moving like that."

Lukas coughed. Rurik waved an irritable hand.

Longing for this to be over, Joran did his best to still his tremors. Rurik applied cream to his entrance; he was grateful this wasn't going to be as painful as the last rape, but the pressure of Rurik's fingers so unnerved him that his eyes nearly dissolved into tears. Please, sir, I'm trying, please don't be angry. Rurik worked a finger inside, tried to insert another one. He let out a grunt. "Damn. This isn't going to work." Joran heard footsteps and turned his head. His body went rigid when he saw his former slave standing above him. Oh, no, please don't, not both of you, not both at once, I can't do this, not yet, please. "Let up, Rurik," Lukas said. Joran felt the fingers leave him. Tension fairly hissed in the air, and he knew punishment was imminent, so he hid his face in the pillow and braced himself to suffer.

The knowledge didn't lessen his dread. He shook as Lukas knelt beside the bed and grasped his hair, pulling his head up and forcing him to look in his eyes. "Joran," he said, "do you trust me?"

Joran sucked in a breath and held it. He knew he should say yes, sir at once, but Lukas's face was so grave, and the rote answer didn't seem good enough. "I— don't know, sir."

He stiffened, anticipating another blow, but Lukas just said, "Think about it." He waited, looking at Joran expectantly through the sandy brown bangs that hung over his glasses.

Joran did. It was a ludicrous position for serious thought: his ass naked in the air, Rurik's fingers, now withdrawn, resting on his lower back. He closed his eyes and remembered the last time: the tearing, the screaming, the horrifying sense of abandonment as Lukas had forced his way into him. God, no, how could he ever trust him again?

A kinder memory came to him on its heels: the memory of Lukas's hand stroking his head, Lukas's arm around him, Lukas's quiet voice in his ear as he spoke of the reasons for what they'd done – what they had to do if Aerne's wrath were not to fall upon them all. Memory of the sudden realization of Lukas's fear, no less real than Joran's own. He opened his eyes. "Yes, sir," he whispered.

Lukas nodded approval and leaned forward. "We want to try something, Joran, but we need your cooperation. You need to help us for this to work."

Joran gripped the bedsheets. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to relax. That's all. Just stay relaxed and accept what Rurik does. Can you do that?"

He felt a sudden, unreasoning panic sweep through him. He had thought that what had been done to him until now-the demands for obedience, the beatings, the rapes-was the worst he could endure. But this, this went beyond obedience, this threatened to destroy the last shred of his soul. Lukas was asking Joran to assist in his own rape. I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't I can't…

"No," said Lukas, seeming to sense Joran's panic. "It will be different if you help. I promise you." Joran swallowed hard. "What happens if I don't?"

Lukas glanced past him to Rurik. "Not without his help," the young man said. "I can't do it the way we planned if he resists."

Lukas looked back at Joran. "If you don't, we'll stop. You can go back to bed."

Joran looked at Lukas in disbelief. Lukas raised his eyebrows. "Is that a problem, gosse?"

"You just—when I—" Joran struggled for words. "When I said no, you hit me." He flinched at Lukas's movement, but the man just lifted a hand and brushed Joran's hair back.

"I didn't hit you because you didn't want to have sex," said Lukas, his voice gentler now. "I hit you because you said 'no' to an order from a superior. You don't argue when an order is given; you obey, no matter what it is. Now you've obeyed, and we're giving you the choice."

Joran looked down at the bed. He felt again the touch of Lukas's hands in his memory. He closed his eyes and whispered, "Will you hold my hand?"

"If you want me to." Lukas slipped his hand into Joran's and waited. Joran took a deep breath. He could still feel Rurik's body behind him, and he tried to erase it from his thoughts, to forget what lay ahead. To relax, to lie in Lukas's bed, to feel the older man's fingers touch his hair… He felt Rurik at his entrance once more, and he tensed, then tensed further as he realized he had disobeyed again and would pay for it. But nothing happened except that Lukas said, "We won't do it without your help."

And so he submerged himself in Lukas's voice, let his mind dwell on the hand touching his, let himself be drowned in the memories of their nights together. And a wonder occurred: Rurik slid into him, slow and deep, as slick as a well-oiled piston, and as he reached Joran's depths, the world exploded. Dimly he knew he had felt this before, long ago, in his other life. "Oh, fuck," he moaned into the sheets. "Oh, fuck."

Rurik chuckled behind him, but this time there was no malice to his laugh. Joran could feel Lukas's free hand on his forehead, wiping away the sweat-plastered hair there. Joran gave a heavy sigh and let himself fall deeper into the sensations.

Rurik took him in long, slow strokes that soon had Joran moaning at every breath. He hadn't felt this before, not down here, not in months of acting as a bed-partner to the three men. He didn't know what had changed, why he was allowed this, why he could feel this. He didn't know Rurik could make anyone feel so good. "God," he groaned, "oh, God, yes, there, oh please, please, please…" He arched his back as he felt Rurik's final thrust into him, heard the forced exhalation of orgasm. He began licking Lukas's hand with frantic desire, but even this brought no retribution. Instead, as his trembling reached its peak, he felt Rurik's hand close around his shaft. He couldn't hold back; he thrust into the hand, once, twice, and came, shuddering under the bigger man and smothering his cries against Lukas's hand.

Joran couldn't believe it, couldn't believe they'd let him do that. He was drained, yet more alive than he'd felt in so long. He regained his breath and looked up cautiously. Rurik was wiping his hands off, smiling at him. "What do you say, gosse?" he asked.

"Thank you, sir," he said without thinking, then caught himself and said it again, meaning it. "Thank you, sir."

Read more in MAS-Zine issue #3
REDEMPTION
Novella (31.000 words) by Remy Martin
www.mas-zine.com