Rock was content to wait patiently for the first fifteen minutes. After that, the stupidity of the situation got to him. "Why didn't I fight back?" he asked no one in particular. "Why didn't I kill myself instead?"
Gospel wasn't in the room, so there was no answer. He quietly waited for anything, but it was silence of torture. The door opened. Rock dashed under the bed. A pair of feet were making themselves invited. "Forte… You're keeping something in here…I know it…"
Rock surpressed a gasp. Metal Man.
Metal Man turned to the bed. "Stupid patchwork quilt. Who cares about being cold?" He through a buzz saw up in the air and caught it. More footsteps came up the stairs. Metal Man teleported out, leaving Forte to race in. "Rock!" Forte demanded.
"I'm right here, Forte," Rock responded. Forte glared at him. "How do you address me?" he asked.
"Ma..Master Forte." Rock choked on the words. "Metal Man was just in here. He didn't see me." He realized slowly that time had passed longer than fifteen minutes. Maybe hours.
"I noticed," Forte said, shutting the door. "It's nighttime again. Did you know that?"
Rock hadn't seen the window since Forte demanded that he stay here while Forte went to "train". He shook his head. "No, Master Forte. I didn't."
"Good. Gospel's deciding to call it a night, so…" he grinned. "You still haven't replaced your clothes. Any particular reason why?"
"I don't remember where they are," Rock responded. "You took them." He crawled out from under the bed. "Sorry."
"Well, it's certainly interesting. I could have many uses for you- now that your dead, it turns out many people were after my trophy for reasons other than mine." Forte grinned, watching Rock's face turned ashen.
"I didn't need to know that, Master Forte." Rock wasn't over the subject of the situation. Forte gave a laugh.
"Now, I think it's time you got clean. Do you need me to dress that wound?" Rock shook his head. "No."
"By the way, I think it's time you and I had a chat about this morning." Forte nonchalantly flipped through a magazine while Rock entered the bathroom. When he came out, Forte surpressed a laugh. Rock was covered head to toe in towels, no part of his skin other than his face showing.
"Trophy, get the towels off. Now." There was an edge to Forte's voice as the command rang out.
"No," Rock responded stubbornly. "And no amount of pain is going to get me to change my mind."
Forte stared at the clock. Eight. Way to early to get to bed, but… He walked over, sizing up Rock. He quickly tore off all the towels and had them in his arms. Rock gave a gasp and dove under the bed to hide his nudity. Forte calmly began folding the not-even-wet towels. "What if I should leave Metal Man here? There's a piece of you that he'd like- not anything that I would. It's a dangerous place here, Trophy. Only I can take care of you."
"By keeping me naked?" Rock demanded with a tiny voice from under the bed. "Hardly."
"Why not? But now-" Forte put the towels away. "I have to talk with you about that incident with the morning." Forte dropped to the floor. He grasped Rock's wrist, pulling Rock out from under the bed and shoved him against the wall. "You didn't address me."
Rock blinked before he realized Forte was serious. "I'm sorry, Sir," he said quickly. Forte nodded, then squeezed his shoulders. Rock realized his mistake. Pain surged through his not-fully healed shoulders.
"You're wincing in pain. So I'll wait." Rock struggled to keep a straight face. "Now, what is my name, O stupid one?"
"Master Forte," Rock replied. "You name is Master Forte."
"OR…"
"Master," Rock finished. "I'm sorry, Master, I am." Rock wailed against the pain. Forte sighed, then threw Rock onto the bed.
"Now. To drill this into your brain, I want you to sleep with me tonight. I'll give you your shorts back." Rock winced. Forte threw a pair of boxers at Rock. Rock knew they were too tight instantly. Great, he thought.
"Put them on," Forte commanded. Rock followed, very afraid. Forte turned off the light. Rock was aware of being shoved up against the wall on a bed. Forte was almost on him. The bed wasn't built for two.
"Now," the younger biroid said, "every time I touch you, you can say three things: Master Forte, I am Master Forte's property, or…" he paused. "You think of one. Appropriate."
Rock palely thought of what was on his mind. "I am not mine?" he asked, suddenly wishing he hadn't. Forte tensed up happily. "Perfect. In that order."
Rock felt something touch his ear. "Master Forte," he responded instantly. His arm shuddered and he responded, "I am Master Forte's property." His stomach. "I am not mine." He felt very…violated, almost. Like he was in a nightmare.
The poking moved to his nose. "Master Forte," Rock replied automatically. He thought electricity cackled through him for a minute, but he had imagined it, because he couldn't feel the numbness afterward.
The poking was on his neck now. "I am Master Forte's property." The hands moved themselves down to his shoulders, and he could feel the healing cream once again. "I am not mine." Pause. The hands didn't stop, so he repeated again and again.
Suddenly, Rock realized that Forte was snuggled up to him. No surprise, in weather this cold. Rock didn't fight it, and kept repeating the terms over and over again.
"I am not mine…"