Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Cloud had half drowned before Sephiroth released him, and he came up gasping for air, his tortured lungs hurting, coughing and spluttering out the bath water that he had swallowed. The salts in the water had stung his eyes, and now his vision was misted and blurred, but not so misted that he couldn't see the general smugly smiling.

"Care to try again?" The strong grip on the head was still there, the threat of being forced back beneath the water still apparent.

"I...I won't clean you, not there," Cloud replied defiantly, his eyes dipping down, indicating the rather large part of the generals anatomy he was referring to. A low chuckle greeted his proclamation.

"I don't recall saying you had to," Sephiroth grinned. "The blood you put on me is...up here." He raised and trailed a dripping hand up his taut stomach, a forefinger leading the boys eyes back upwards, to the splash of red on his chest. "Such a dirty mind you have."

Laughing green eyes locked with apprehensive blue ones, and the general was pleased to see the boy blush again, the stain covering his pale cheeks and spreading to the tips of his ears. Long blond lashes lowered and covered the shamed eyes.

"All I meant was, it was your bloodied tongue that messed me up so, it's only right that it cleans me off again. Don't you agree?" Sephiroth asked. "Of course, if you feel like continuing using your tongue to wash the rest of me off..." He eased his legs open, exposing himself unashamedly. "...then please, feel free."

"You're such a prick," the abashed prisoner mumbled lowly, staring straight into his tormentors eyes. "I don't want to touch you. I don't want to touch you at all."

Sephiroth gave an exaggerated sigh.

"Then we have a bit of a problem don't we? Because, if you don't clean this blood off me, and in the way that I've ordered, then..." The general's cruel fingers twisted in the damp spiky hair again, pulling the blonde's face mere inches away from his own. Sephiroth's voice dropping threateningly. "...then I'm going to rip the offending organ from right out of your mouth with my bare hands. And just to inform you...I NEVER make idle threats!"

The prisoner's eyeball to eyeball stare finally failed, as he realised the truth of his captors words. He remembered the cruel way this man had made him eat. Recalled the way the general had viciously beat him before dragging him back to the white cell room by his hair when he had tried to escape. If this man said he would rip Clouds tongue out with his fingers then...Cloud believed him.

His eyes now trailed downwards and rested on the russet colour that marked the man's skin. Luckily for Cloud, his frantic splashing while being held submerged had washed away most of the blood, and now only the most stubborn and dried on gore remained, cracked and peeling. It wouldn't take much to lick it off.

"Well, let go of my hair then," he said, shaking his head, leaning in closer to the general's chest as the fingers disentangled themselves from his locks and the man's hand dropped and rested back by his side.

Cloud tensely stuck his tongue out, and hesitated for a second, before letting the very tip of it touch the muck that he had put on the generals chest. He was half expecting the man to grab him, or do something to cause him pain. But he didn't. He just sat there, quietly. Cloud didn't bother raising his eyes up to look at the man. He knew the arrogant sneer would be in place on his face.

Now a little more confident that he would be left alone until the job was done, the prisoner retracted his tongue quickly, moistening it with saliva, before once again extending it and lapping at the mess he'd made. The deposited blood tasted coppery and salty at one and the same time, and Cloud wrinkled his nose a little, the taste disagreeing with him somewhat.

He had always had a sweet tooth, and since being incarcerated here, the cuisine had left a lot to be desired. He yearned to sink his teeth into a juicy sweet cream bun, to wrap his tongue around a sticky caramel chocolate bar. Instead, his taste buds and his stomach had to settle for the thick, cloying, greasy gruel he was fed each and every day. Even now, just thinking about it, his stomach knotted up.

"Every single little bit," the general said smoothly, breaking Clouds thoughts. "I will be checking."

Cloud licked and lapped until all he could taste and feel under his tongue was the bare, cleaned skin of the man. Then he stopped, and settled back on his heels to make sure he had done a through job. Satisfied, he made to move away, but was stopped by the general grabbing at the top of one of his arms, holding him still as he did what he had said he would do...checked.

A dissatisfied sigh filled the room.

"You call this, clean?"

The prisoner's brows furrowed. What was the man talking about? There wasn't a spot of blood left to be seen on him. Or so Cloud thought, until a forefinger pointed to an area of the man's chest.

The boy leaned in closer, only too aware of the fingers still digging into his arm, and squinted at what had been pointed out to him.

Sure enough, almost invisible in a ridge of the man's skin, was a teeny tiny speck of red. Cloud couldn't even be sure it was blood, it was so small. He opened his mouth to say as much.

But he didn't get the chance to utter a word, as the palm of the generals free hand came slamming down across the cheek of Clouds face, the blow stinging, the strike hard enough to jerk his head sideways.

With a defiant look in his eyes, Cloud turned back quickly to face the general. His breath was heaving in his chest again, as he prepared to launch himself at the silver haired man.

"You fucking bas..."

This time, the prisoner's words were cut off by a full facial punch, the general cleverly anticipating what the boys next move would be, and nipping it in the bud.

Holding his hands to his mouth, feeling fresh blood ooze its way past his fingers, Cloud's bitten tongue now gingerly felt and probed at his teeth, silently pleased when he knew that, although a few were now a little loose, none seemed to have been lost to the assault.

His anger was still there, but Cloud abandoned any plan of attack, slinking back as far away from his aggressor as he could . This foe that he faced had proved he would strike first, and question later.

"Don't worry I'll get it, this time," the general said placidly, looking down and scratching at the spot on his chest that he had indicated. "But..." Now he raised his head, and looked straight at the cowed prisoner. "...you ever disobey an order from your master again, and your training will be interrupted for punishment."

Again, Cloud felt the heat of indignation burn within him, and before he could stop himself, he opened his mouth to argue.

"Training? What training? What the are you talking about? Training for what? And, and...you're NOT my fucking master. I answer to no one."

Cloud tensed, his body ready for the rain of blows he expected in retaliation from his outburst. His uneasy state was made even more uneasy, when nothing happened, when all the general did in response was to laugh, mirthlessly.

"Not your master you say?"

Sephiroth climbed out of the bath, reaching for and wrapping a large towel around his narrow waist. "Very well. I can see that you mean to test me. You have just earned yourself an extra ten strikes. Add those to the ten you earned for messing up my leathers, and that I believe, means you have twenty strikes due you."

Cloud stared at the general, puzzled. Training...Strikes...The man was talking in riddles. Whatever happened to normal interrogation procedures? He had been caught before, and had never been subjected to this strange custody treatment. Where was the small room with the one way glass? Where was the paperwork he would be expected to sign, admitting his guilt for spying? Why had he not been questioned about what the groups intentions and purposes had been?

The confining in a cell, Cloud could sort of understand that. He could even comprehend the torture. But this...the nicety of allowing Cloud to bathe... had completely thrown him. He could only guess that the threat of 'strikes', was not to be taken lightly, and he wondered what it involved.

He didn't have long to wait to find out.

The generals powerful arm reached towards him, and dragged him from the bath water, hauling his slippery, wet form over the edge of the bath unceremoniously, pulling his resisting body towards the toilet.

Mental images of having his head forced down into the pan while the man pulled the flush, flashed through Clouds mind. It would be humiliating, yes. But not unbearable.

He was not prepared for what happened next.

Sitting himself down on the closed lid, Sephirtoth heaved the boy belly down across his lap, ensuring that the small, pert ass was raised up to the air. Before the prisoner could do anything to stop him, the general held the boy in place firmly with one hand while he lifted his other up high, before bringing the flat of his palm down sharply on the prisoners backside, a resounding and satisfying slapping sound echoing throughout the tiled room.

It took a few seconds for Clouds brain to register what had just happened. The general had spanked him! And Clouds face turned as bright a scarlet as his ass, when he realised the man wasn't going to stop.

"...6...7...8..."

Cloud wriggled uselessly, trying to move his burning butt from the stinging blows. By the time the general got to the count of twelve, tears were running freely from his clenched eyes, the small whimpers he had uttered after the first few strikes now full hollering screams.

"...19...20..."

The blows stopped, and Cloud was pushed to the floor, where he lay on his side, one hand balled into a fist, rubbing at the tears that still fell, the other hand immediately going to his bottom, and rubbing the inflamed flesh. Hurting on the inside, as well as on the outside, Cloud decided to hit back with the only weapon available to him...words. With a shuddering breath, he spoke.

"Wow...You can fucking count," he said, with all the sarcasm he could muster. A swift kick to the stomach stopped any more sentences from being spoken, and Cloud's hand left his abused bottom and now rubbed his sore guts.

"Yes... and I can also make your life a living hell. Think about that, before you next open your mouth," Sephiroth warned, standing up, retying the towel tight about his waist, before moving towards the door.

Wheezing, Cloud pulled himself up into a sitting position, his arm still tucked around his belly. He mumbled obscenities under his breath.

Chucking at the boys audacity, the general cast a final comment over his shoulder before walking out.

"Get back into the water and scrub yourself clean. Insure that you do a good job, or else..." He lowered his voice to its threatening level. "...or else, I'll just have to come in and do it for you... And you won't like that!"