Slade dragged a tipsy Robin into his bedroom and threw the boy face down on the end of the bed. In a few short seconds he yanked down the teen's trousers and boxer shorts and seized his practice staff from the corner. Robin immediately tried to push himself up, but Slade shoved him right back down before bring the stick down hard across his bare bottom.
WHAP!
"Irresponsible!"
WHAP!
"Immature!"
WHAP!
"Selfish!"
WHAP!
"Not to mention completely stupid!"
The staff came down again and again, making Robin scream out in pain. He kicked his legs and gripped the sheets tightly in his fists as the fabric soaked up the majority of his tears, the redness of his face competing with that of his behind. Slade didn't hold back, leaving welt after welt on the boy's blistering bottom. Each strike made Robin lurch forward, a bawling shriek ripping from his throat. When he hit the same spot twice, Robin saw stars and writhed around on the bed as if he was having a seizure.
"Learn from this experience, Robin." Slade barked as he brought the last two whacks down on his abused ass. "Petty revenge is childish and pathetic. You complain about these students bullying you and then you go and embarrass yourself by acting like a fool in public!"
Slade finally released Robin and the boy immediately curled into a fetal position. His pants and underwear were still pooled around his ankles with his shirt shoved up. His body, now slick from sweat from the pain, seemed to shrink before Slade's eyes and the boy tucked his head into his arms as tears streamed from his eyes.
"Well, Robin? Anything you have to say for yourself?" Slade asked, twirling the staff threateningly.
Robin struggled to stop hiccupping and restrained his sobs to mumble out a slurred "sorry!" before breaking down into pitiful bawls. Slade stood there and stared at him. He watched him wail like a baby for a little bit longer and then put the staff away.
"Please stop that horrible noisemaking." Slade sighed. While the view was completely and utterly delicious, he could have done without the incessant blubbering. At this point he would wake up the entire hall. He watched as Robin tried to suck in the sobs like a suppressed cough, only to burst out again moments later louder and full of force.
"Honestly, Robin." Slade shook his head. "What if your peers saw you now? What would they have to say?" This helped a little bit as Robin actually made an effort to wipe away his tears, though the fact that he had yet to stop crying made this very counterproductive. And then Slade noticed that a few of the nasty, purpling welts on Robin's ass were starting to bleed the teeniest bit and sighed. "Very well, roll onto your stomach." He stopped in the bathroom to select a tube of cream from the closet and made his way back to the pitiful teen. "I said roll over."
Robin did as he was told, probably terrified of more lashes if he disobeyed. Then Slade removed his gloves and did a quick once-over of the boy's abused bottom. Perhaps he had been a little rougher than necessary, but it would heal and with medication he doubted it would leave a mark. He squeezed a dollop onto his fingers and slowly began to dab the substance over the purple-y red bumps. Robin positively howled; his back arching so that Slade had to hold him down again. He finished up and tossed a pair of boxers at Robin.
"Seeing as you'd probably get killed in your sleep by your roommates tonight, I'll allow you to remain here for the time being." Slade said. "But only if you stop that irritating wail of yours."
Robin nodded, no longer crying but hiccuping as he wiped his tears away. The ointment had penetrated through his burning skin and was doing a good job at turning a blazing, throbbing agony into a dull ache. He tugged on the boxers and crawled into bed without so much as a whimper, much to Slade's relief. He would go absolutely nuts if he had to spend the night listening to the Boy Wonder's pity party.
"It's better than what those students would have done to you." Slade reminded him as he prepared for bed. He locked himself in the bathroom for several minutes before returning in sleepwear and claiming the left half of the bed. "You're lucky Kane didn't kill you."
"I don't know why I did it." Robin sighed and Slade was surprised to actually hear him speak.
"Oh? Please understand that I have trouble believing this." The mercenary replied.
"Well…I don't know. I thought like, maybe Kane might actually sort of like me a little and would finally admit it or something. It was stupid." He muttered, burying his face into the pillow.
"Yes." Slade replied softly. "It was extremely stupid. You should feel like a complete ass."
Robin turned his head and frowned. "Not exactly the comforting words I was looking for."
"I'm not here to be your teddy bear, Robin." Slade replied. "You brought this upon yourself and now you must accept the consequences. I'm not here to waste time with sentimentality and sympathy. I'm here to make you my apprentice and I'm starting to think you've forgotten that." Slade sat up. "Tomorrow morning you start a new training regimen. No more gym class, or history, or Hero Studies. All time needed for greater things. It's going to be much more intense so I suggest you get some rest." Then he turned out the light while Robin did some thinking in his head. Those were the classes he had with Kaine.
The boy cracked a small smile and snuggled into his pillow. "Thanks Slade."
"I wouldn't thank me quite yet."
Slade was not lying. The next morning he yanked Robin out of bed an hour before he was supposed to wake up and threw his uniform at him. The boy was given barely ten minutes to get ready before he was whisked off to the cafeteria for a breakfast of protein and vitamins before being yanked down the hall to the vacant training room.
He was made to do wind sprints, commonly known as suicides, (he wondered why) for a good hour with ten second rests after every twenty laps. Slade was thoughtful enough to give him water. Not to drink, oh no, but to throw in his face as he ran past.
"Faster, Robin." Slade scolded as the boy ran past him again. This time he didn't even bother to touch the mat, smacking right into it instead. "You call this stamina? Pathetic!"
Robin didn't reply, too busy panting to even utter a noise. His footsteps faltered and he tripped, diving into the mat head first. He hit the ground and rolled over, resting his head back as he fought for air.
"Get up." Slade ordered, only to be ignored. "You've only done two hundred and sixty three sprints."
Robin opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't. His chest heaved up and down and he brought his hands up over his head. "Wa…water." He wheezed.
Slade huffed and grabbed a container of water, tossing it at the boy who didn't even bother to catch it. It landed in his lap and he gratefully picked it up, chugging down nearly the entire bottle in half a minute.
"I hope you know that we're not done yet. Four hundred total and you're not even three quarters of the way there." Slade replied.
"Can't I come back to it?" Robin pleaded. "I'll do anything else."
"This isn't an aerobics class, Robin." Slade snapped. "Or have you forgotten who's in charge?"
Robin stiffened a little, recalling last night's caning and quickly shook his head. "No."
"Then don't question me. One hundred and thirty seven more laps."
Robin sighed and set his water down, miserably getting to his feet. He waited for Slade to say "start" and resumed his running; back and forth, back and forth until his legs were shaking from the effort and his lungs burned, refusing to stretch anymore. There was a pain in his side like jabbing knives and sweat dripped down his face like tears, soaking into the Kevlar of his clothes and pooling in his collar bone. He was on sprint three hundred and eighty-nine when his legs finally gave out from under him and no amount of trying would get them back up.
"Get up." Slade ordered. "You're not finished."
"My legs are done for. I physically cannot use them anymore!" Robin argued back.
"You can walk on your hands, can't you?"
Robin looked up at him in disbelief. "You can't be serious."
Slade looked him in the eyes and grabbed a staff from the wall, tapping it against his palm. "How about now?"
Robin sighed miserably and used the very, very last amount of strength in his legs to push himself up onto his hands.
Robin didn't finish his laps, for which Slade was rather unhappy about, especially when he had to carry the boy back to their room due to the fact he could not use his legs. He unceremoniously dumped the boy onto the bed and removed his shoes and belt without too much protest. Even more shocking was when Robin kept his comments to a mere hmph when he stripped him of his shirt and pants and replaced them with pajamas.
"You are no use to me like this. I must say you've gotten a bit soft." Slade told him. "Perhaps you should do a little less riding around on that motorbike of yours and a little more running on the treadmill."
"Yeah, because I have such an addiction to the bike I haven't driven in months." Robin retorted sourly. It wasn't much of a comeback, but he was too tired to be clever. Slade didn't help things by turning off the lights and tucking the covers around his body. A big hand ran through his hair, stroking the inky mess a few times. Robin found himself enjoying the sensation and leaned into it, his eyes drifting shut. The darkness interfered with only by the light peeking in from under the door and the gentle touch and the soft covers and his weary muscles…it was all so cozy. He turned his face into the pillow and fell asleep.
Robin's nap didn't last too long and to his surprise, the shower was running when he woke up. He bent his legs experimentally and sighed at how heavy his limbs felt. Nevertheless, he was comfy, so he just snuggled back under the covers which smelled unidentifiably like Slade. Oddly enough, that only made him feel cozier. He reveled in the soft warmth of the bed for a few minutes, but his peace was interrupted when the bathroom door opened.
Now, there was nothing remotely arousing about the idea of being kidnapped by one's worst enemy and being forced through months of torture and humiliation, but Robin was a teenage boy. A nice body was a nice body and those rock hard abs had Robin practically drooling from the corner of his mouth. Every muscle was smooth and tight and if that wasn't enough, water droplets were still scattered about in a way that seemed almost unrealistically sensual. He gaped openly, hypnotized.
"It's not polite to stare, Robin." Slade reprimanded lightly. His mask obviously remained secured to his face, but even that threatening symbol of his worst enemy couldn't stop the Boy Scout badge that was currently being earned in his pants. He blushed and looked away, but couldn't resist the temptation for too long, sneaking a peek as Slade collected a clean uniform and disappeared back into the bathroom.
Robin wanted to masturbate. He did. It had been so long, he was sure he would get off in less than five minutes, but there was no way he would consider it with only a door separating him and Slade. He may have been a hormonal teenage boy, but he wasn't an idiot. Still…
No. Absolutely not. Not in a million years.
Robin made himself sick. He bit his lip and held back a moan, his hand pumping under the covers. His cheeks flushed pink and he squeezed his eyes shut, letting his head fall back when pre-cum started to pearl at the tip of his cock. His hips bucked and he rubbed the gooey substance around with his thumb, feeling a small amount of sweat pool at the small of his back. He was a complete disgrace with his pants pushed down to his knees and those shameless whimpers escaping his throat. He sped up his hand, imagining it belonged to someone much bigger and stronger than him and felt himself getting close so he reached over and plucked a few tissues from the box on the side table in preparation. With one last feeling of utter disgust, he recalled the image of Slade's muscular abs, his broad, masculine chest, and the sight of those water droplets on his skin and suddenly he was cumming hard, his orgasm wracking his body with rigid muscles and erratic hip thrusting and little gasping moans until white stickiness spurted into his tissue coated hand.
Robin moaned softly in content and closed his eyes, letting the crumpled tissue fall into waste basket as he snuggled his pillow. His whole body felt serene and relieved.
"That was quite erotic, Robin. Have you ever considered hanging up your cape and becoming a porn star?" Slade commented from the doorway of the bathroom.
Robin shot up in his seat, his eyes wide. "Slade! I…" He face heated up; the room felt like an inferno. Fuck! Fuck! How the fucking hell was he supposed to explain this? Goddamn it! Fuck!
"An explanation is unnecessary." Slade told him. "It is very healthy for one to relieve stress through sexual gratification." Robin wished he could get crushed by a boulder, but Slade ignored his embarrassment, walking over to the bed and cradling Robin's jaw in his hand. "And as your master, your health is very important to me. Now why don't you tug your pants up and get started on your homework, hm?"
Wallowing in humiliation, Robin quickly yanked up his pants and curled into a ball.
"I'm going to get you some lunch." Slade told him. "And for future reference, there's lube in the drawer there."
Robin didn't respond and waited until Slade was gone to drop his face into his hands and sigh. What a fucking idiot. Slade was never going to let him forget about this.