Author's Notes: You guys have been wonderful in your support and I appreciate it so much! The next few chapters aren't easy for our guys, but they won't be apart for longer than necessary (trying to give a hint but not give too much away).
The BDSM, slash, kink, and non-con gets more intense in the next few chapters. You are WARNED.
I've tried to reply to everyone, but if I missed yours I apologize. I'm going to keep better track this time! I love to read your reviews, so let me know if you like the story and the fast updates!
The sound of clanging entered Tony's consciousness and he wondered if he'd fallen asleep with the television on; he did that sometimes when he was exhausted after a long case. Rolling over on his side, the lumps underneath him were a quick sign he wasn't sleeping on his king sized pillow topped mattress. As a matter of fact, his knees hung off the edge of a thin piece of foam that most definitely wasn't something he owned.
He peeled his eyes open, ignoring the discordant symphony playing in his brain, and looked around. He was lying on the floor on top of a tiny pallet. The room he was in was small, only about the size of a decent walk-in closet – he doubted if all his clothes would fit in here. The walls were grey cinderblock on three sides, there were no windows, and the front was made entirely of thick bars. It reminded Tony of the kind of cell found in a prison movie – maybe some Cool Hand Luke quotes would be appropriate, although Luke didn't turn out too well in the end of that movie.
And there was the fact that Luke hadn't been naked - unless there was a porn version, which could be interesting. He fought against the natural tendency to be embarrassed at his nudity, but tried not to let it upset him too much. If it was good enough for Adam and Eve, it was good enough for him – although a fig leaf would be kind of nice.
He swallowed and realized his throat was dry and scratchy like he hadn't had anything to drink in a long time, and his rib cage protested each breath. Every muscle ached and he wondered how long he'd been unconscious. He felt like Rip Van Winkle after his hundred year nap.
When he lifted his hand to scratch his itching face, his attention was drawn to green leather cuffs encasing his wrists. Tony stared at them, appalled to find they were fastened with small locks. The leather was wide, sturdy, and firm. There was no way he could remove them without a key or knife. He felt something constricting his neck and reached up to find a collar; his fingers quickly discovered a lock attached to this restrictive device, too. Matching cuffs were buckled and locked around his ankles.
Great, just great. Abby would have loved this.
Carefully he sat up, holding his head as a wave of nausea hit him.
He tried to remember how he'd gotten here, but found it difficult to piece together recent events. His last clear memory was of Gibbs cornering him in the elevator and acting like a mad man. He frowned. Gibbs had sent him home, and promised to come over…..
But Tony hadn't made it home. He'd ended up here instead – the nightmare ride in the back of the van resurfaced, and things started to fall into place. He wondered how much time had passed since his abduction, and if Gibbs or anyone else had noticed his disappearance yet.
"Good morning." Tony's head snapped up at the greeting; a vaguely familiar figure waited outside the bars of his cell. The middle-aged man stood with his feet slightly apart and his hands folded in front of him. He wore leather pants and a black button down shirt. A whip dangled from his wide leather belt, and a holster was nestled against his hip – Tony could see the butt of a pistol sticking out the top. The man's graying hair was pulled back into a ponytail and a long silver earring dangled from one ear. A silver chain circled his neck, and he wore another on his wrist. He stared at Tony with hard, grey eyes that were set deeply into his angular face. His smile held all the warmth of a lizard sunning itself on a rock.
Steve and Josh stood behind him; Tony noticed they were both armed with small automatic rifles; whips were attached to their belts as well. Whatever was going on here, his captors meant serious business.
"I'm going to have to complain about the turn-down service in your fine establishment," Tony quipped. "I always look forward to those little mints the housekeeping staff leaves on the pillow, but I think they forgot." He glanced down at where he'd been sleeping. "Actually, they forgot the pillow, too."
The man's frown deepened. "Stephen said you were a handful; I guess he was right. That's ok – I haven't been forced to break a truly difficult slave in awhile and I'm looking forward to the challenge. We'll start immediately. Everything about your previous life is to be forgotten; you are no longer who you were before. Your given name is no longer necessary and you will be referred to as boy or slave. You are to address me as Master. The other Doms you encounter here will be called Sir. As a submissive, you are expected to follow all commands as soon as they are given…."
"I'm not a submissive," Tony interrupted. "Somehow you got your information wrong. So does that mean I can go? I mean, a mistake like that, you certainly wouldn't want to keep me. I'm sure it would have a negative effect on your customer service ratings."
The man took a breath, clearly irritated. "You are not to speak unless given permission. I can arrange to keep you gagged if necessary to reinforce this rule."
Tony laughed and pushed himself up so he was standing. His abdomen ached dully from the beating he'd had earlier, but it wasn't incapacitating. "Go ahead, it doesn't matter. I'm still not a submissive and I have no intention of playing along with whatever little games you have set up here."
The gleam in the man's dark eyes conveyed his contempt for Tony's statement. "We'll see about that, boy."
A line of men appeared in the hallway passing in front of Tony's cell. They were naked, like him, their hands shackled in front of them and their heads bowed; several were hobbled by lengths of chain between their feet. None looked his way, but Tony was pretty certain he recognized a few of the faces he'd seen in Fornell's file. One handler walked in front of the line and another at the rear; both had guns attached to their belts and carried whips in their hands.
"Hey, Fornell says hi," Tony called out, taking a chance he recognized the man walking at the end of the line as a missing FBI agent. A pair of light brown eyes popped up at him.
"Head down," the handler snarled; his whip flicked out like a bolt of lightning, striking the man on his back with a loud crack. The man flinched and his face contorted in pain. Quickly he cast his eyes back down at the floor.
Tony's eyes widened when he saw blood trickling from a long gash seared into the man's flesh as he continued to silently walk down the hallway. It was definitely one of the feds reported missing several months ago. Tony couldn't help but note the flat, dead expression on the agent's face that was vastly different from the slightly cocky self-assurance in the picture he had seen. What had they done to these men that could sap them of their independence so completely?
"We do not tolerate disobedience of any kind," the grey haired man, his self-proclaimed master, warned. "It will do you well to remember that in the days to come." He pulled a set of keys off his belt and stepped forward, opening the cell door. "The start of the day is a time for you to show your appreciation for your master. Before you are allowed to eat or drink, you need to go to your knees in front of me." He paused. "Now."
Tony stared in disbelief. "You're kidding, right? I mean, you do realize this isn't speed dating. We haven't even had dinner, or gone to the movies, or talked on the phone for hours about nothing, or held hands while walking in the park…."
Rick took the whip off his belt and jabbed the handle into Tony's tender stomach. The federal agent doubled over, and Rick shoved him the rest of the way to the floor, ignoring the outraged look as DiNozzo gasped for breath. He walked back around and placed his feet directly in front of the struggling man.
"Now you can kiss my boots, boy."
Tony lifted his chin to stare his captor directly in the eyes. "No fucking way."
Leaning down, Rick grabbed a fistful of Tony's hair and tugged; DiNozzo set his jaw and refused to react to the pain in his scalp.
"In a few days you'll beg for the chance to kiss my feet. Until then, your on basic rations – food is earned by good behavior." He shook Tony's head harshly. "Don't worry, I'll teach you what it means to be a slave." Rick turned toward Steve. "Bring him to the dining hall; he can watch everyone else eat."
Tony didn't respond as he was hauled to his feet, his wrists linked behind him with the cuffs, and he was prodded, naked, out the cell door. Steve gave him a shove, knocking him off balance and causing him to stumble.
The hand Steve rested on his whip was the only thing that prevented Tony from making a smart ass comment.
You better be looking for me, Boss. He doubted he would stay out of trouble here for very long.
NCISNCISNCIS
The bullpen was uncharacteristically quiet – the sound of feet swishing against carpet, of muted whispers, of pens scratching paper providing the only indications of business as usual. Everyone in the building was aware of Tony's disappearance and they were giving the Major Crimes Response Team, and Gibbs in particular, a wide berth. Ziva and McGee sat at their desks; Fornell had taken up residence in Tony's chair; Sacks sat on the corner of DiNozzo's unused desk. Abby and Palmer were slumped in extra chairs they'd pulled from the other side of the cubicle, and Ducky stood next to Gibbs' desk with his arms folded.
Gibbs glanced up to where Vance stood at the second floor railing; he and Fornell had just finished briefing the Director. The meeting had been short since there was little to report. All their questioning, canvassing, and processing of potential evidence had provided no information about what had happened to Tony. Abby had Major Mass Spec working on the fibers from the marine's body, but so far their single clue had provided no leads.
No apparent connection existed between Phillips and the disappearances; this conclusion combined with the fact he was cooling his heals in interrogation when Tony vanished eliminated the only suspect they'd managed to find. They were at a complete dead-end.
Abby stood up abruptly, the chains on her belt rattling, and pointed her finger in the air. "I remember something!" The chair she had been sitting in toppled over, and everyone stared.
"What is it, Abs?" Gibbs prompted, his voice more calm than he felt. He'd take anything at the moment, even something hare-brained and crazy - anything to stop time from eroding meaninglessly while Tony waited beyond their reach.
"When we were at the club, before the fight broke out, I asked Tony to come and dance with us. Someone sent him a drink while I was at the bar with him – it was a really creepy Asian guy with a half-naked slave sitting by his table. He was staring at Tony like he was looking at sex on a stick." Abby waved her hands a little, realizing what she'd said as she met Gibbs' eyes. "You know what I mean. He looked like he wanted to bend Tony over and take him right there in front of everybody." She stomped her foot. "I shouldn't have put it that way, I'm just really upset and worried and I can't think straight when someone I love is in danger! If the guy I saw has anything to do with Tony's abduction, he's in big trouble Gibbs. I can't imagine what Tony would do if someone made him kneel naked on the end of a leash like that! I mean, I know Tony's a submissive, and everybody else knows Tony's a submissive, but Tony doesn't know he's a submissive, and it's going to take someone really kind and special to help him understand that, not some slimy Dom who doesn't actually care about him and is probably some kind of sadist…."
"Abby," Gibbs interrupted.
"They're gonna hurt him, Gibbs. I can feel it," she whispered, her lower lip shaking. "I don't want somebody to break him. Then he won't be Tony anymore."
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
Gibbs enveloped her in a hug. "I'm not going to let anyone break him, Abby. I swear." Her chin rested on his shoulder and he rubbed her back gently.
McGee approached the pair. "Yeah, Abs. We'll find him before anything bad happens." Abby let go of Gibbs and snuggled into McGee's chest. Ziva joined them, standing awkwardly for a moment before wrapping her arms around the duo. Soon, Palmer and Ducky were hugging her as well. Gibbs shook his head and gave Fornell a sad, twisted smile. He didn't care what the FBI agent thought about the impromptu group hug, the way his team felt about each other was what made them so special. They weren't just co-workers punching the clock on a nine-to-five job; they were a family and despite the occasional bickering and squabbling, they loved each other. Out of his peripheral vision, he caught Vance turning to walk back to his office.
Fornell stood up, rummaging in his pocket. "Here," he said a bit gruffly, producing a handkerchief, which Abby took with a sniffle followed by a loud blow of her nose.
"Thanks," she said, offering the used square of linen back to the agent. Fornell took it carefully, placing it on DiNozzo's desk next to Sacks, who scooted away from it.
Gibbs rested his hands on Abby's shoulders. "Do you think you could describe the man you saw? Maybe we could get a drawing of him." It was a long shot, but currently it was all they had.
Abby perked up a little at the prospect of helping. "Yeah, I could do that."
Ziva's eyebrows raised. "I remember him, as well. He was very noticeable, the way he had his submissive so scantily dressed and obviously scared of his own shadow. I will assist Abby with the description."
"Good," Gibbs nodded. It was something, some hope that they might get Tony back while he could still keep his promise to the Goth scientist that their senior field agent would be unharmed. Every minute that passed was one more minute that left Tony in grave danger, danger that would have never occurred if he had just kept Tony close and hadn't tried to distance himself like a fool. He had pushed Tony away like he always did when people got too close, and this time they were both paying the price. Gibbs' gut clenched and unclenched in a spastic rhythm, a constant reminder of his current inability to do anything useful. "I'll get an artist down here immediately. As soon as you're done Fornell and I will head back to the clubs and see if anyone recognizes him. Abby, you can run the picture against facial recognition software and see if you get a hit."
The scientist bit her lip and nodded resolutely. He let his gaze linger on the team members gathered close, and he was overcome with pride and gratitude. They were the best, and if there was any chance of finding DiNozzo, they would be the ones to do it.
NCISNCISNCIS
Steve and Josh forced Tony down several hallways and into a room with a low table on one side and a regular dining room table on the other. "Over there," Steve demanded, using his large hand to push Tony to the floor in the center of the room between the two pieces of furniture. Josh moved behind him and quickly joined the cuffs on his ankles together. Steve gave him a wicked grin, producing a small length of chain from his pocket, handing it to Josh who went to work again. When they were done, Tony's wrists were attached to his ankles; he was kneeling in the floor unable to get up or even move much since a shift in any direction would more than likely cause him to fall over. It took a lot of concentration just to maintain his balance.
Steve stepped close and used his foot to spread Tony's bent legs wide, allowing his dick front and center display; Tony willed himself to not adjust position and reveal his intense discomfort.
"You might be a belligerent asshole, but that doesn't mean you aren't hot," Steve commented. The trainer licked his lips and Tony noticed, horrified, as the bulge in Steve's pants got significantly larger. What the hell? "You think you're a tough guy, don't you?" Steve goaded, walking around him in a circle. "A big, bad, federal agent with a gun and a badge? Well, here, I'm the one with the gun, and the whip, and the taser, and anything else I want to use to keep you in line." He nudged Tony's cock with his foot, and DiNozzo couldn't stop a sharp intake of breath. "I knew you were a slut when I saw you in that bar. Master Rick will show you just what kind of slut you are; I can't wait to see you begging to suck his dick or have his cock shoved up your ass."
Tony swallowed, a part of him terrified, a part of him indignant, and a part of him completely freaked out. His muscles tensed involuntarily. "I don't plan on begging any of you for anything, especially not your scrawny, limp dicks."
Steve laughed and Josh joined him, the sound grating to Tony's already brittle nerves. "Doesn't matter, you'll have your chance to get up close and personal whether you beg for it or not."
Sounds interrupted them as Rick and several guards accompanied a small group of men into the dining area. The slaves quickly entered a nearby room and returned with plates of food and plastic cups. Tony noted they weren't given any actual silverware that might be used as weapons; everything was plastic. The men knelt in front of the low table and ate in silence. Tony watched, somewhat captivated by their obedience. No one seemed the least bit surprised to see a naked man displayed on the floor in front of them.
Rick approached him and Tony shifted nervously. Being bound and helpless heightened his sense of awareness about everyone around him, and he constantly worried about being attacked. These people were crazy, and Rick was the resident Mad Hatter.
A large hand landed on top of his head and pushed it toward the floor. "Eyes down," Rick commanded. "You are a slave and slaves don't make eye contact unless given permission."
Tony squirmed. "I'm not a slave," he countered, trying to move out of the grip Rick had on his head. "Just because you kidnapped me and brought me here doesn't make me anything."
A slicing sensation penetrated the soles of his feet. Rick lashed him several more times and Tony gasped at the intense pain created by a small, thin implement the man had removed from his belt.
"Do not back talk me," Rick hissed in his ear. "I won't tolerate it. How should you respond to me after I've given you a command?"
Tony quivered a bit, fearful of where this was leading. He knew what Rick wanted him to say, knew that he should say it if he had any rational sense of self-preservation, but he couldn't make himself spit out the words. He couldn't do it. He squared his shoulders with resolve to accept wherever this led.
Fire shot across his back as the wiry device struck him again several times. Tony twisted in a vain attempt to escape the blows.
"Answer me, boy, so this will stop," Rick demanded again, cold steel in his voice.
"Hell no," DiNozzo answered without hesitation. This time the small rod rained down from various directions, causing him to lose his balance and fall to the floor where he landed roughly on his side, the injuries from the previous few days flaring sharply.
"Show me respect, you spoiled piece of shit!" The man standing over him, the man who had just punched him in the face and was now kicking him in the stomach, the man who was Freddy Krueger, Jason Vorhees, and Michael Myers all rolled into one, the man who was dead and had been dead for years, shouted angrily.
Tony blinked, confused by the sudden flash of memory. Rick was there again, yelling something at him, but Tony couldn't understand the words, his mind catapulting from past to present, from memory to reality, somehow merging, meeting, becoming one. Rick's face disappeared and the other returned.
"You think you're better than me, don't you? Think you're too good for someone like me, huh? Pretty little rich boy like you? You weren't too good when you sucked my dick! I'll teach you to talk to me like I'm beneath you!" The kicking continued, and Tony tried to protect his stomach with his hands, but the steel toed boots couldn't be stopped, they pounded into his flesh mercilessly.
Why had his father left him with this man? Where had his nanny gone? Didn't anybody care enough to help him? Hot, wet tears burned down his cheeks. He was eleven, too old to cry, but the pain in his stomach was too much; he vomited, the acidic bile leaving a burning trail inside his throat and mouth.
"Look what you've done!" The man screamed. "Look what you've done! You'll clean this up, dammit, every drop!" The boots stomped away, leaving him a heaving mess on the floor, grateful for the brief reprieve. The sound of shouting and cursing assured him the worst was yet to come.
"Hey, you with me?" He opened his eyes to find Rick again, squatting in the floor next to him smacking his face lightly. "Take a deep breath."
Tony tried to calm down, to understand what had just happened. He hadn't experienced a flashback like that in decades. He felt washed out, the images clinging to him like a leftover dream.
"That happen very often?" Rick asked, sounding almost concerned.
"N..no," Tony answered honestly, too tired and disoriented to argue.
Rick nodded. "Get him back in position." With little ceremony Tony was hauled back onto his knees. Rick pushed his head down again, and this time Tony didn't fight him; he felt too confused and unsettled to do much of anything. Thankfully, the other slave trainers chose to ignore him for awhile, going about their business with the subs who were finishing their meal. Rick stayed next to him, his hand resting heavily on Tony's head.
Tony's mind drifted; he couldn't get away from the resurfaced memories of that horrendous summer when he was eleven, memories he had managed to lock away in a corner of his mind where he never ventured. His mother had been dead for several years, and his father was busily courting a very wealthy socialite who had no interest in spending time with little boys. When his father planned a trip abroad with his young fiancé, they left Tony at home with the Nanny, the one bright spot in his world, his beloved Rosie.
Unfortunately, Rosie's mother got sick after only a few weeks and she had to quit in order to take care of the invalid woman. There had been no one else to stay with him, and his father called on almost everyone he knew. Tony had started to fear he'd end up in an orphanage or the pound.
What happened next was worse than either of those possibilities.
The handyman, a fortyish man of questionable background, volunteered to stay at the house and watch Tony for the rest of the summer. He even offered to finish up some improvement projects his father wanted done.
DiNozzo Sr. had jumped at the suggestion with little or no thought about leaving his son with a stranger who had only been working for the family a few months, and only occasionally at that. His Dad had been too wrapped up in his business and girlfriend to really give it much thought.
The nightmare had started almost immediately. Zeke had made it clear that he was in charge, forcing Tony to sleep in his bed on the very first night. The verbal abuse and beatings had commenced the next day, and by the end of the weak, an innocent child had learned more about human anatomy than he'd ever wanted to know. Whenever Tony could sneak away he would hide, skinny arms curled around his shattered body, and cry. He had no access to money, Zeke removed all the phones except one he kept locked away, and Tony had no idea how to contact his father anyway. He was trapped in a terrifying hell with an abusive monster who took pleasure in tormenting him both physically and mentally.
For most of his life Tony had ignored the events of that summer, sometimes forgetting it had even happened. In time the flashbacks had stopped and the nightmares had ended. He no longer blamed himself, and had dealt with his anger at his father for the abject neglect. It wasn't quite forgiveness, but it was an improvement over the fierce hatred that had gripped him for years.
He had even seen the obituary announcing the death of Zeke Martin in a New York newspaper not so long ago, so he knew the man was dead and gone to a place where he couldn't hurt anyone anymore.
Why did it all have to force its way back to the surface now? This situation was bad enough on its own. He stared at the floor and concentrated on erasing the scared little boy who hadn't been able to say no, and replacing him with the federal agent who didn't take shit from anyone.
This time would be different; he'd fight back or die trying.
NCISNCISNCIS
Rick leaned against the wall and watched the young man who seemed to have withdrawn into himself, lost in something from his past. He held himself stiffly, immobile – his unexpected reaction was the reason Rick had backed down, allowing him to regain his sense of composure for a few minutes. The older man had enough experience at this to recognize when someone was dealing with repressed memories.
The slave trainer had seen this type of response before in people who had suffered severe abuse. Somehow this situation had triggered a visceral recollection for DiNozzo and he had yet to shake off the effects. He filed away the observation to use to his advantage at another point in the training process.
In the past – before he embraced his darkest desires and learned how to use them for profit - he had been a much different person. He had worked as a psychology professor at a small college, studying the human mind and all its intricacies. But the academic life hadn't fulfilled him, hadn't made him feel alive and he had embarked on a quest for something more.
It was during that journey he discovered his talent for domination and for training subs in the lifestyle. It was the one thing that made him whole, made him feel significant and like he had a real purpose for existing. Some might question his decision to force unwilling men into a life of slavery, but he felt it was a higher calling. These young subs were being set free, allowed to reach a level of peace and tranquility that would never be possible in the regular world. They could let go of all their struggles and worry and gain joy in learning to serve their masters, without thought or question or concern. They would be cared for like a prized possession for the rest of their lives. It might be a tough road to get to that place in their minds, but that's where he came in – he could show them how to get there. It was a gift.
He watched the new boy take a deep breath and let it out slowly, tanned shoulders straightening slightly as DiNozzo re-centered himself. The NCIS agent was physically beautiful and emotionally complex, a stunning combination. He held his psyche together with an iron will, but that fortress would need to crumble so he could eventually experience the heights of his submission.
It would be a challenge to break him – a challenge Rick relished undertaking. DiNozzo would require a delicate touch, not so much as to push him over the edge too fast, but to slowly take him out of his comfort zone and into elements he'd never explore of his own free will. Rick suspected whatever secrets lay in his past had prevented him from ever acknowledging his hidden needs.
In a few months, Tony would take center stage at the next slave auction, and his sale would add to the small fortune Rick had already accumulated. Even though the D/s lifestyle had been accepted by mainstream society, slavery was still illegal, opening up a lucrative black market that he was taking full advantage of. Acquiring and training slaves for this growing subculture was a win-win for everyone concerned – even if his newest acquisition didn't see it that way yet.
One day, DiNozzo might even thank him it.
NCISNCISNCIS
Gibbs held up the drawing with a nod of approval. Abby and Ziva's combined description was enough to develop a very detailed depiction of the man they'd seen. Abby placed her hands on her hips.
"Don't even bother with going to the clubs, Gibbs. I think this is good enough to get an identification through facial recognition software. Give me thirty minutes and if there's something on him in any of the databases, I'll find it." She had more than recovered from her earlier teary eyed meltdown, and now stared at him with an air of fierce determination. Nothing was going to stop her from helping her best friend in the whole wide world.
"Go for it, Abs. You did good work." He leaned over and gave her a gentle kiss on the cheek. "Both of you," he added, placing a soft peck on Ziva's cheek, too. The Israeli bobbled her head in surprise, rubbing the spot unconsciously even after Gibbs had headed back to the bullpen.
When Gibbs arrived at his desk, he found Fornell and Sacks deep in conversation with Vance. Fornell was obviously trying to keep his voice calm and professional while speaking to the Director of NCIS.
"No, I don't believe DiNozzo would run off with someone. I'm confident he's become a victim of our serial kidnapper. Based on the body we've recovered, I think it's safe to say his life is definitely in danger." There was a clipped quality to the FBI agent's voice that indicated his displeasure with Vance; Gibbs recognized the sound all too well from his own measured discussions with the man.
The Director shifted his toothpick to the other side of his mouth. "You have to admit there is no solid evidence DiNozzo's disappearance is in any way connected to the case you're investigating."
"You're kidding, right?" Gibbs stated, pushing his way next to Vance. "This is your idea of a practical joke. I didn't know you had such a highly developed sense of humor."
"The sarcasm isn't necessary, Agent Gibbs," the Director stated, meeting the blue gaze with a cold one of his own. "I'm simply pointing out the fact that we're jumping to the conclusion that Agent DiNozzo was abducted and didn't choose to leave on his own."
Gibbs' eyes narrowed and he shook his head quickly. "Every article of clothing he was wearing was stuffed in a trash can. Are you suggesting that he stripped naked and took off to parts unknown completely nude? Are you that out of touch with reality? Or do you simply dislike DiNozzo that much?"
McGee had been resolutely avoiding the conversation, but his head snapped up at the comment. Agent Sacks cautiously stepped away from the men, moving slowly across the room to put as much distance as possible between himself and the impending explosion.
"Now you listen to me Gibbs, I will not tolerate this insubordination….."
"No, Director Vance, you listen to me." Gibbs moved so close to the other man he was nearly stepping on the toes of his expensive designer shoes. Fornell took up the space behind Gibbs' left shoulder in a show of solidarity. "DiNozzo is in trouble and needs our help, this agency's help. I will not allow you to question that basic fact." Vance opened his mouth to speak, but Gibbs leaned into his ear and interrupted. "Mike Franks said to let him know if I have issues with you, and he'll make sure to set things straight. Do I need to make a call?"
Daggers shot from the Director's eyes, but Gibbs merely stared at him calmly. He had never intended to use the card Franks had offered him; today Leon pushed until he had no choice. This was about finding Tony as quickly as possible, not about grudges, or pride or anything else and he would do whatever it took to keep Vance in line.
The staredown ended when Abby bounded off the elevator followed by Ziva.
"GibbsGibbsGibbsGibbs!" the Goth repeated, obliviously inserting her body between the Director and team leader. "We know who he is already! McGee, hit the plasma!"
"Takeshi Nakamura," Ziva stated coolly, as the picture of a middle-aged Asian man with glasses appeared on the screen. "He is a wealthy Japanese businessman well known for his collections of all manner of rare items—he has purchased antiquities, jewelry, artwork, and a variety of other expensive and exotic pieces. He is currently in DC to attend an auction of ancient Egyptian artifacts. He was arrested previously on a domestic violence charge that was later dropped."
"McGee, Ziva, find out anything else you can on this man, specifically connected to human trafficking," Gibbs directed, throwing his coffee cup in the trash.
Vance turned after him. "You think DiNozzo was taken by sex traders?" There was a note of disbelief in his voice.
The silver-haired man unconsciously stole a glance at Tony's empty desk. He sincerely prayed that his gut reaction was wrong but currently the sex angle was the only one that made any sense. "It wasn't for money or information. What other reason is there?" he asked. The silence in the room was the only answer left.
"Where's Nakamura staying?" Gibbs asked McGee, who was already typing furiously on his keyboard. He turned away from Vance dismissively.
"Here you go, Boss." McGee handed him a slip of paper with an address written on it in McGee's neat script. "You want us to go with you?"
"I'll take Fornell, you two stick with working on the background. Call me if you find anything relevant." He strode toward the elevator. Fornell pointed at Sacks and motioned for him to stay as well
Vance followed after them.
"What do you think you're doing?" he asked. "You have no reason to suspect Mr. Nakamura's involved as far as I can tell. He's a high-profile member of the business community – I can't have you causing an incident by barging into his hotel room without probable cause."
Gibbs stopped. "It's called investigating, Leon. You might have a vague recollection of what that was like before you became a bureaucrat. Now get out of my way so I can go do my damn job."
Fornell raised his eyebrows and joined Gibbs in the elevator, leaving Vance behind.
"Don't do anything stupid, Gibbs," Vance admonished as the silver doors slid shut, cutting off anything else he might have said.
NCISNCISNCIS
The other trainees had been taken into a small building for exercise; Tony was walking through the compound on the end of a leash held loosely by Rick. They were accompanied by a burly man cradling a snub nosed rifle in his arms who made it clear by his proximity that Tony was expected to follow orders without question. The leer on the goon's face as he surveyed up and down Tony's body also made it clear what else he had an interest in. Tony shifted to try and conceal his privates, wishing his hands were free so he could at least cover himself; despite his best efforts to ignore the stares he was uncomfortable with parading around in the open for everyone to see.
Rick reached out a hand to stop him from moving. "Never hide yourself; it's not allowed. Your body does not belong to you anymore, boy." He tapped the crop threateningly against his leather clad leg. "Don't make this lesson any more difficult than it has to be."
Tony's debate over what to do next was cut short by Rick's decision to continue walking. "Stay two steps behind me," he instructed. Tony thought about how he always walked behind Gibbs and wondered if there was any significance to that habit. The fact he was naked and being led around like a pet out for a morning stroll made him feel like a complete idiot.
He had done his best to shake off the foul mood left over from this morning's trip down memory lane. Normally he could seal off the emotions fairly quickly, but being in this place with these people, constantly reminded that he was under their control, made it impossible to use the kind of coping mechanisms he would usually employ. The fear of being raped never left his mind for more than a second.
To distract his chaotic thoughts, he focused all his energy on assessing the camp for any signs of weakness that might give him an opportunity for escape. The complex bustled with more activity than Tony would have imagined. He counted at least a dozen captives led about individually and in small groups.
Rick noticed his observations. "There are several dozen slaves currently in training, and at least that many staff. You've only met those assigned to your pod; at times you'll interact with other groups, but for the most part you will stay with the men in your building and with Steve and Josh, your assigned trainers."
Tony was reminded of his first few days at Ohio State when the coaches had shown him around campus, the main difference being that all the slaves were naked and bound. Rick acted like seeing naked men led around on leashes was the most normal thing in the world. Tony marveled at how people could convince themselves their warped version of reality was perfectly acceptable.
They entered a structure where several men monitored screens and communication equipment. Rick turned and met his eyes.
"Pay attention to this, boy; it's important you understand any illusions you have about escaping are futile." He pointed at a satellite display. "This image shows where our camp is located; we're hundreds of miles from the nearest town, surrounded by the lake on one side and the forest on the other. The only way to leave is by boat – swimming would be certain death and walking through the woods would take weeks. The entire perimeter is surrounded by razor wire fencing and there are tracking devices in your collars." He stepped close to Tony, gazing at him firmly. "I don't want you to get hurt; my job is to protect and teach you, but first I need you to comprehend the foolishness of trying to escape – there is nowhere to go." He hesitated for a moment, letting his words sink in as much as possible.
Tony set his jaw defiantly and tilted his chin in the air. Words weren't necessary to convey his rebellious attitude.
Rick gripped his chin tightly. "If you do try and leave, your punishment will be swift and severe. In the future, you will only be allowed to speak when given permission. However, I have found that new slaves assimilate better if they are fully aware of what is happening. I will grant you the indulgence to ask whatever is on your mind. Do you have any questions?" He released Tony's chin and waited.
Tony let his eyes drift around the room, dropping into full on investigative mode. "This is a big time operation; armed guards patrolling the area, trainers, electronic equipment. How do you pay for all this?" He tried to do what he figured Gibbs would do; stay calm and gather as much intel as he could.
Rick smiled with pride. "Our services are very much in demand all over the world. We fulfill special requests from individuals as well as supply auction houses with well trained slaves. Of course, our unique niche is slaves who have a background in law enforcement. You'd be surprised at the number of Doms who want to live out a fantasy with a cop under their complete control, to use, humiliate, degrade." He laughed callously. "There is a great deal of money to be made in our endeavor."
Tony's blood boiled at the way Rick was so cavalier about the entire operation that was based on the kidnapping of individuals who had no desire to be here. He was going to thoroughly enjoy it when Gibbs busted these pricks. Regardless of the tension between them the past few months, he had no doubt that Gibbs would turn the world upside down and shake it in order to find him.
Rick paid no attention to Tony's rage, continuing to proclaim the virtues of his endeavor, pride filling his voice. "Many of those who work here are volunteers who have an interest in the lifestyle," he explained. "We aren't people who read Dr. Sawyers' book and bought a whip and pair of fuzzy handcuffs at the mall. We believe in this way of life and get a great deal of fulfillment from it. You'll understand soon, once you've started training." He smiled that enigmatic smile that made Tony shiver. Without warning, the crop flashed through the air and sliced the skin on his ass.
"Shit," Tony spat, jumping forward, his skin stinging as the crop connected several more times.
Rick shoved him against the wall. "Never forget, I am your Master and I can discipline you at any time, for any reason or no reason at all. You are a belonging, a possession, and the sooner you deal with your new status the sooner you'll find a sense of peace in your submission."
Tony didn't respond to the psychobabble, seeing no need to give him an answer; Rick was obviously crazy and he saw little point in engaging the man more than necessary.
Rick tugged on the leash and pulled him outside again like a dog. He tried to forget about the humiliation in favor of assessing his surroundings as they walked. There had to be a way out of here despite what Rick said; he refused to give up on the possibility.
DiNozzo noted the guards patrolling the outer edges of the compound; he counted four that he could see, but felt certain there were many more. The fence was difficult to make out in the thick layer of trees surrounding the outskirts of the area; he observed razor wire topping the high metal fencing, and several gatehouses rising into the treetops. A path wound through a break in the foliage; Tony suspected the dirt road led to the dock where the boat would be stored. "What did this place use to be?" he asked, hoping that detail might help him get a better grip on his chances. He processed the compound like his training had taught him; the knowledge might be the difference between freedom and captivity.
"The camp was originally built as a resort facility for wealthy families who wanted to get away from their regular lives for a while. It was closed fifteen years ago and our organization renovated it around five years ago."
"What are those?" Tony tilted his head at several large wooden structures in the center of the circle of buildings. He didn't realize he had stopped to stare until he felt that sharp sting on his backside again.
"Hey!" he cried, trying to ride out the lingering burn on his flesh.
"Move when I do," Rick admonished. "Always pay attention to your master; when he walks so do you. When he stops, you count to sixty and drop to your knees."
"I'm not going to kneel in the dirt," Tony responded as surly as possible. He was not going to perform like a sideshow act in the circus. This was bullshit.
Rick shook his head and swatted Tony again. DiNozzo was ready this time and tried to grab the tiny crop from the older man's hands before it made contact with his skin. The guard stepped forward, letting his weapon swing from the strap around his shoulders, and grabbed Tony's arms roughly, forcing him down on his knees despite his previous protest. Tony could feel rocks and sticks pushing into his kneecaps as he struggled to maintain some dignity.
Rick stepped in close, his breath hot in Tony's face as he hovered above his slave. "I understand you have an aversion to being hit; I'll soon make you tell me why."
Tony's eyes narrowed then grew wide.
"I know you've been hurt by someone, abused; it doesn't change what's expected of you here, it simply changes the way I'll handle you. You have to accept the punishment to realize how to enjoy the pleasure."
Tony opened his mouth to deny what Rick had said. There was no way he could know anything about it; Tony had never told anyone besides Rosie and his father and that had been over twenty-five years ago. He'd been careful to make sure no one knew, so nobody would ever even suspect. How could this stranger have figured out his darkest secret in no time flat?
His words dried up like dead autumn leaves when he saw the door to one of the buildings open and a crying man dragged out by Steve and Josh.
He recognized the slight young man who had been led past his cell earlier; the kid begged for them to stop as his silver cuffs were attached to posts in the center of the compound, his arms spread wide above his head. His legs were similarly attached to rings at the bottom of the posts.
With a sinking sensation Tony determined his question about the devices was about to be answered in so much vivid detail he might never be able to forget. Steve unfurled his whip and let it snap loudly in the air.
"Good," Rick said warmly. "You need to witness what happens to slaves who don't obey."
As the whip sliced the air and then ripped into the boy's broad back, a scream split the silence. While the boy sobbed and pleaded for mercy, Tony stayed on his knees and prayed that Gibbs and the team would find him and bring justice down on these cruel sadists.
There was no doubt in his mind that it was only a matter of time until he would face his own turn between those two posts.
NCISNCISNCIS
Nakamura opened the door to his hotel room at the Adam's House with a frown. "How may I help you gentleman?"
Gibbs presented his badge; Fornell did the same. "We'd like to ask you a few questions," Gibbs stated softly.
The diminutive man smiled, slightly bemused. "I can't imagine how I could have attracted the attention of both the FBI and NCIS. Do, come in," he offered, stepping back to allow them access to the opulent suite. He crossed the floor with a confident swagger, pulling the belt of his thick red robe tightly around his small body.
The luxurious décor was offset by the sweaty, naked man kneeling next to the oversized sofa. The sub never raised his eyes as they approached. Clearly, the agents had interrupted the evening's entertainment.
Gibbs immediately noticed the swollen lips and blackened eye of the nameless man in the floor, who might have been attractive under other circumstances. Bruises, abrasions and scars stood out starkly on his pale bare back. He wondered if the young man was with Nakamura voluntarily; if he wasn't, it was a crime.
Fornell followed Gibbs' gaze and swallowed thickly.
"We're investigating an incident at a club you were seen at recently; does The Cage ring a bell?" the FBI agent asked bluntly.
Nakamura thinned his lips and walked to the mini-bar, picking up a glass before adding ice and pouring amber colored liquid from a small bottle. He took a drink and closed his eyes before answering.
"Yes, I was at The Cage. If you're here to ask questions about the fight, I can assure you I saw everything. The lovely young man with the green eyes was completely innocent in the matter; it was the other man who started the incident." He smiled at them both, gliding to the couch where he sat down, crossed his legs, and carded his fingers through the slave's shaggy brown hair. The man leaned his head against Nakamura's knee, letting out a long sigh.
Gibbs chose to ignore them. "The green eyed man is my agent and he's disappeared; we were wondering if you might shed some light on his whereabouts since you were observed taking a rather significant interest in him."
A slow smile appeared on Nakamura's lips. "I'll have to admit I found him outrageously attractive – surely the two of you agree?" Neither agent responded to the taunt. "Regardless, he seemed rather uninterested in doing anything more than spending time with his friends. He turned me down flat. There isn't much more I can tell you."
His hand lazily stroked the sub's hair, stopping every now and then to curl into the strands and tug. The sub made a face but no sounds, instead biting his lip and trying to sink his head lower, become more unobtrusive. A hard pull forced the drooping head back up.
Gibbs' teeth clenched as he studied the man. He watched the hand that gripped and pulled without concern for his companion's discomfort. Unless Nakamura admitted it, nothing connected him to Tony, but that didn't stop Gibbs from feeling something was off. This man was a collector of things, of objects, why not people? Tony would be a unique, rare addition to his collection.
Nakamura smiled again, and Gibbs could see the knowledge in his gleaming eyes as he took another sip from his drink. He knows.
Gibbs locked his gaze on the mute submissive. "Are you being forced to stay here? Slavery is illegal, and he can't keep you against your will." If the kid admitted to being held by force, they could arrest Nakamura immediately.
They boy shrank back, mortified. His frightened eyes frantically jumped from Gibbs to Nakamura. He shook his head hesitantly, indicating he was here by choice.
The Asian snorted at the exchange. "Do not get involved in what is none of your business, Agent Gibbs. This boy wants to be my sub, and that is no concern of your agency."
It only took a moment for Gibbs to cross the floor and grip the front of the gauche robe; he had a good six inches of height on the Asian, and he lifted the surprised man off the floor and shook him. Nakamura's mouth dropped open in a surprised circle and he dropped his glass to the floor. The sub skittered backward, trying to move to an area of safety.
"Tell me where he is." Gibbs' voice was low and menacing; he shoved the small man around the couch and toward the balcony - with one hand he slid the door open and herded Nakamura out to the railing where he pushed the protesting man against the cold metal. "I said for you to tell me where he is."
"You're fucking insane!" Nakamura screamed. "I don't know what the fuck you're talking about! Let me go before I fall!" Instead of letting go, Gibbs shoved more until the tiny toes were no longer on the floor and Nakamura was bent over the railing, arms flailing in the air. "Help, before he drops me!"
"Gibbs! Sit him the fuck down!" Fornell yelled frantically, laying a hand on Gibbs' arm, where the former marine's muscles bunched and quivered from the weight he was holding. "This isn't helping anyone, especially not DiNozzo!"
"Tell me," Gibbs hissed.
Nakamura looked down at him and stopped moving, his body utterly still. His nostrils flared and his lips drew into a snarl. If looks could really kill, Gibbs would be dead on the spot.
"Put me down or drop me, you bastard."
The pause stretched out while Gibbs considered his options; the little shit wasn't going to tell him anything and if he killed him, there was nothing he could do to help Tony from the inside of a jail cell.
Reluctantly, Gibbs sat the Asian on the floor. The man immediately ran inside the hotel room. "I will have your damn badge, you crazy psychopath! Get out, get out now!" He flung the door open and waited for them to leave; the sub huddled in a corner, trying to stay out of the way.
Fornell shoved Gibbs out of the room and into the hallway. The FBI agent turned to try and salvage what he could of the debacle. "Mr. Nakamura, I apologize for Agent Gibbs…."
"Do not apologize; I will make sure your superiors know exactly what happened here." He slammed the door in their faces, his own expression twisted with fury.
Fornell ran a hand through his hair. "That went well," he said finally.
Gibbs simply turned and walked away. He'd lost his temper and completely screwed this up; there was every chance Vance would take the opportunity to fire him for it. And without the sanction of NCIS to back him up, his chances of finding Tony plummeted from slim to none.
NCISNCISNCIS
Tony lay on the narrow pallet, his feet dangling off the edge and his arm wrapped protectively around his aching ribs. He tried to drown out the sobbing that had been going on for hours. The hysterical young man in the cell down the hall had been inconsolable since the whipping, intermittently moaning, crying, and shouting incoherently.
Tony stared at the ceiling and relived the events he'd witnessed today that rolled through his mind like a bad rerun he couldn't turn off.
Steve had uncoiled his whip, letting it drop heavily to the ground before he snapped it loudly. Then he'd commenced to whip the frightened man, searing red, bloody stripes into his creamy white skin. Tony had been mesmerized by the winding, snake-like leather as it slashed its way across the slave's exposed back. The boy had screamed, begged for it to stop, but Steve never hesitated as he punished the submissive, working him over like an artist painting a blank canvas.
Tony had leaned forward, desperate to do something to stop the gruesome scene, but found himself pulled backward by the leash Rick held tightly. The slave master wrapped the lead securely around his hand, taking up any slack until Tony was forced up against him, his naked body pressed into Rick's soft leather pants. His anger at the injustice of the situation bubbled to the surface and he made a low, feral sound in his throat.
The guard shifted, lowering his weapon so it pointed toward Tony.
"Why are you doing this?" DiNozzo asked forcefully. "What did he do wrong?"
"He begged his master not to fuck him yesterday," Rick replied, turning Tony's body so he could see more clearly, not letting him look away – Steve grinned sadistically and the boy shook, the muscles in his shoulders hunched together against the painful blows. "His master, in this case Steve, selects the punishment, and he needs to learn how to take it without losing control. You need to see this so you can understand what it means to be a slave, to know what you're expected to accept. None of you have a choice anymore." Rick let his hand rest firmly on the back of Tony's neck. "I've gone easy on you today so you could get your bearings. Tomorrow, your training really begins."
There was no way Tony could ever deal with being tied up and beaten like that while everyone around him stopped and stared. The desperate sobs seared their way into his brain. They followed him across the compound, through the dinner he wasn't allowed to eat, and back into this cell where he was locked in for the night.
Tony's tawny skin was crisscrossed with red streaks from Rick's ever present crop; it was nothing compared to the kid's flesh that looked like it had been chewed up by a weed eater. Tony wished he could offer some kind of comfort, but there was nothing he could do except listen to the man's suffering.
How long was it going to take Gibbs to find him? Would he be able to avoid a similar punishment? Tony doubted it; he could barely hold it together now. It wasn't going to take much for him to snap. He rolled on his side and tried to get comfortable despite the bruises and abrasions that littered his body.
"DiNozzo men don't cry." He could hear his father's voice clear as day, the words spoken to him in the hospital after he ran away from Zeke, after the horrible experience was over, while he was curled into a ball trying his best to disappear and make the whole thing vanish with him. He had done his very best to follow Senior's directive, to hold all the pain inside, to never let it show. He had made the mask of indifference so much a part of him that he no longer knew where the fake Tony ended and the real Tony began.
He closed his eyes and wondered if Gibbs would get there before he had a mental breakdown. He had a feeling that once the floodgates to his past opened nothing could ever shut them again. It was the price to be paid for a lifetime of self-deception and denial.
The only consolation he could find came from imagining what Gibbs intended to say to him at his apartment. He pretended he was going to hear all the words he'd always wanted someone to say and really mean them. You're irreplaceable, Tony. Stay with me. I love you. Just a few days ago, he would have never thought such a thing was possible. Now he might never know.
When he eventually fell asleep, he fitfully dreamed about the summer when he turned eleven, and the monsters that, no matter how hard he fought them, never truly went away.