Voldo awoke to the clatter of silverware and the whispers of curious maids. In spite of the pulsing agony in his body, he shifted his legs, trembling at the unfamiliar sensation of soft satin sheets gliding across his bare skin, shaved hairless while he slept. Half out of fear, he buried his face against the soft, downy pillows. Perhaps if God took mercy on him, he would awaken in his childhood home, ready to start another grueling yet familiar day at work. His eyes snapped open as he adjusted to the reality of his situation: he was naked and injured in another man's bed, trapped in an unfamiliar ship floating in an undisclosed location in the ocean.
Despite the knowledge that he had nowhere to go, the instinct to flee overpowered his systems, rushing within his veins and burning through his chest. His breaths grew ragged as he panicked, struggling against the surprising weight of plush blankets.
"What a stupid boy. Are you so eager to reopen your wounds?" Voldo flinched, freezing in place as the distinctive tap of his master's footsteps grew louder and louder still.
"…Were you watching me sleep?" he muttered, with bitterness clear in his tone. He hadn't forgotten what transpired only the evening prior.
"As a merchant, I've gotten into the habit of closely monitoring my investments. If it appears that a business venture will not profit, then I prefer to cut my losses early rather than waste precious time and resources attempting to salvage the unsalvageable."
Voldo bit his lip, stifling the stream of profanities that threatened to spill forth from within him. "Is that it, then? Am I just… an investment? This isn't what you promised me; this isn't what I wanted! I am a man, Master, and I-"
"Very well, then. Let us turn this ship around and deposit you back into that little hovel you called a home. As for your brother, I certainly hope he has enjoyed his very short stay at the finest hospital in Italy. Perhaps you can ask him about it later, if he ever deigns to speak to you again." Vercci sighed, though more out of amusement than anything else. "Were you never taught that actions have consequences? You have made your own bed, dear Voldo, and now you must lie in it. …Rather literally, I'm afraid. I doubt you will regain sufficient strength to walk any time in the near future, judging by the state of your thighs."
A playful smile spread across his face as he realized that his servant, like a petulant child, intended to remain silent, ignoring him for the remainder of the day. "…Now then, would you like to eat breakfast, or do you intend to lie there motionlessly, pouting and wallowing in your own misery? If you prefer an empty stomach to compliment your bloodied back, 'tis your decision."
Keep your fucking food. The words were on the tip of his tongue, his lips curled around the very first syllable, yet when the maids, as if on cue, removed the lids from their silver platters, his body never felt so heavy.
As the intoxicating aroma of freshly baked bread and rich cheeses enveloped him, he snuggled against the bedding, cocooning himself in its warmth. With whispered words of praise, his master snaked his hand underneath the blankets to gently stroke the soiled bandages covering the tattered remains of his back. A dull ache shot through his torn muscles at the sudden contact, with a sharper pain burning through him as he thrashed in Vercci's grasp. But the man only held him as he struggled, with a firm grip on the back of his neck, as if soothing a startled colt. Despite himself, Voldo soon relaxed into the touch, even after his initial protests. And so there he stayed, huddled against his master, as the maids arranged their silver trays and platters before him like an offering.
It was all too much: the warmth and comfort, the fragrant scent of herbs and the promise of food to come, and his master's steady arm wrapped securely around him. Even after being bound, gagged, and flogged by that very same man, Voldo couldn't recall a time when he had ever felt so precious.
His anger melted away as he found himself prodding at a sweet roll while his master cooed at him, urging him to try a bit of this and a pinch of that. Despite himself, with the very first bite of his breakfast, Voldo shuddered at the burst of sweetness on his tongue, as he struggled in vain to stifle the little pleasured whimper that escaped his lips.
With dread rising in the pit of his stomach, he awaited Vercci's taunts with cold silence. And yet, the cruel words never came. Instead, his master only pushed the plates closer to him in encouragement before resuming his ministrations, stroking comforting little circles into the tattered skin of his back.
"Don't you want to eat anything?" Voldo mumbled almost as an afterthought.
"Later, once you've finished, and I've put you to bed with a full stomach and clean bandages."
"How very considerate of you," he stated, deadpan. "Don't think you can win me over with tea and sweetmeats. …I won't forget what you did to me."
"Of course not. I expect nothing less," replied his master, with that same, steady smile. "…Tell me, dear Voldo, what do you know of hunting? When taming a hound, one must take care to exact an appropriate punishment following the inevitable first transgression. An initial display of authority sets the basis for one's entire relationship. Allow a hound to go unpunished once, and it comes to view you as a lesser member of the pack for years to come. …Do you understand? I've no grudge against you, my dear. All is forgiven."
"How generous." If he weren't so utterly exhausted, he would have smashed his knuckles into Vercci's face. Voldo closed his eyes and imagined his master's nose, swollen and erupting with blood after a particularly brutal punch. Instead of following through with his forbidden desires, however, Voldo shoveled another pile of pastries into his mouth as he tried and failed to remain bitter.