(A/N: This chapter is rather graphic and disturbing, and I want to point that out in advance. You have been warned, so let the chapter commence.)
CHAPTER XIV
Nine at night, the clock read, but Matthew had no method of proving otherwise. There were no windows, as to be expected of a basement, even if it looked nothing like one. The room Ivan had put him in was furnished beautifully, meant to give off a soothing ambiance. Still, the air was always cold; the boy shivered slightly on the bed's silk sheets, staring at the wall across the room. Toris was on the other side of that wall, and he wondered faintly if the walls were soundproof. Deciding that was incredibly likely just in case any of the Russian's neighbors were actually around, Matt reluctantly focused his mind on what was going to happen while they stayed here.
Brainwashing them all over again was a given, and the two knew the procedure well by now. There had to be complete isolation, a false sense of comfort, and emotional degradation as the Russian spouted threats and insults. It was the same in the hotel rooms that they resided in as in this basement. Although the process prepared them for the days and nights they were to be used, it wasn't any less brutal.
His thoughts wandered to those of Alfred, but he tried to shake them away. If he couldn't let go and let apathy overtake him, there was no way he would withstand life in the industry.
Someone knocked firmly on the door, and Matthew froze, eyes wide as he turned his attention to the wooden entrance. It opened, and in came Ivan, smiling as he closed the door behind him. With the way those wintry eyes bore into him, Matthew swore that the man could freeze hell over if he wanted to. "Good evening, Metyu," the Russian greeted him.
"G-Good evening, Ivan," the boy returned, his lips numb.
"I want to have you working as soon as possible, so we are starting the reprogramming right away. Take off your clothes."
The Canadian averted his bleary eyes, sniffling as he nodded and began to pull off his red sweatshirt. He didn't want the man to see him naked; he didn't want anyone but Alfred to see him in that vulnerable state. I don't want this, Matt thought, unable to stop himself from weeping as his hands moved to slip the jeans off his narrow hips.
"Pitiful," Ivan stated, his tone light and blithe. "You are so weak. I have not seen you so weak since the day we first met."
Matt found himself believing the words as he finished undressing, having never been told otherwise. Even in the last days of his new life, Al had never once said he was strong; only beautiful. And he'd heard that word from far too many people.
Grinning cruelly, Ivan demanded, "Na kaleni." Knowing that phrase all too well, Matthew got on his knees as ordered, facing the foot of the bed. The man pulled a large bondage cuff out of his bulky trench coat and bound both of Matt's hands in the leather restraint, attaching it to metal loop embedded in the wooden bar between the bedposts. Miserably, the Canadian rested his elbows on the sheets, raising his backside into the air.
As the Russian climbed onto the bed behind him, Matt tried to mentally prepare himself for what would happen; tried to block out the memory of his first night at the ring that terribly resembled this situation. The sound of a cap snapping open caught his attention, along with the squelch of gel escaping a bottle. Two lube-coated fingers were suddenly shoved into his anus, and Matt cried out at the freezing pain.
"…Metyu, you are not as tight as I thought you would be. Do not tell me you had sex outside of the ring."
When the boy's muscles tensed around his digits, Ivan chuckled, the truth revealed. "Blia," he accused, slapping his pet across the face with his other hand. Matthew screamed, the stinging ache on his cheek causing him to cry as the man continued to call him a whore in Russian. "You could not go a month and a half without servicing someone. Did you leave because you wanted the money for yourself? You little, greedy blia."
"I-I did not wh-whore myself!" Matthew fought, knowing it was dangerous to talk back.
"Oh, really?" Ivan inquired, thrusting in a third finger as the boy protested. "Then you had sex with that American boy, da? How sweet."
Seeing no reason to inform the man that he had also been gang raped days after escaping, Matthew shouted with the hatred inside of him at his boiling point, "A-Alfred loves me! He was g-gentle and didn't want to h-hurt me! But you- you're rough! Y-You're rough and- and you just don't care!"
Offended, the Russian denied, "That is not true. I care about my pets and I would never want any harm to come to them. Why else would I specially alter the collars?"
"…What do you m-mean?" Matt asked, dreading the answer he would get.
"I input chips that send me a locating signal if a collar is damaged."
Matthew's body trembled with dilated irises, realizing he and Alfred had brought this upon himself by burning the collar. An act that was supposed to free him from these chains had actually sealed his fate.
Seeing he had touched a critical nerve, the boy choking back sobs, Ivan took the opportunity to break him as it was presented.
"So, what did you with that collar, Metyu?" he taunted, twisting his fingers inside of his pet's entrance.
"Ah-Ahhn…" Matt involuntarily mewled, hating Ivan for doing this to him. Only Alfred had the right to stretch him out and make him moan. "W-We threw it in- into the fire…"
"'We'? Ah, you and your beloved Alfred, da?" Ivan merrily continued, "I suppose I should thank your foolish fuck buddy for bringing you right to me."
Infuriated by his words, Matthew lifted his left leg off the bed and kicked harshly into the Russian's gut, like an agitated horse tied to a post. The moment his foot made contact, Matt realized what a grave mistake he had just made.
The man grunted as the wind was nearly knocked out of him, surprised by his pet's audacity. Asserting his authority, he pulled his fingers out and used both his hands to nearly strangle the boy's thin neck. Ivan leaned in, whispering threateningly into the Canadian's ear, "You think I am rough, da? Then I might as well live up to your expectations…if not exceed them."
Stepping off the bed and walking out of the room, he left the boy to get the air back into his lungs. "…N-No…" Matt coughed, his voice cracking as a more intense dread than ever before overtook him. He was completely screwed over now, as the Russian must have gone off to get more supplies, like the whip he mutilated Toris with. Sniveling to himself, Matthew began his mantra, "I don't want this…I don't want this…"
When Ivan returned, Matthew was still repeating the words, tears mixing with the silk sheets. The boy looked up as footsteps approached, the smallest bit of relief washing over him as he saw the man was not carrying a whip. That relief was soon overpowered by the fear instilled in him from what Ivan was carrying instead: a hollow metal dildo attached to a harness, connected by wires to a small power source.
"You should feel honored, Metyu," the Russian informed him with a cruel, childlike smile. "I have not tried this form of electrostimulation with anyone yet, so you are the first to test it out. The good thing about this type is that should it severely damage you, it will only be internal, so the clients would not be able to tell. At least, that is what the instructions said before I modified it."
His grin only broadened as Matthew shook, unsettled by the man's words. The Canadian watched in horror as Ivan removed everything but his trench coat, spreading lubricant over his large dick before strapping on the dildo. After applying the gel to the metal encasement, the Russian climbed back onto the mattress. "There is rubber inside of the metal to prevent it from affecting me, so you are the one that gets to feel the electricity. How lucky you are."
As the boy whimpered, Ivan clamped his hands on Matthew's trembling hips for support, preparing the angle upon which to enter him. Without further delay, he forced himself inside, taking delight in the tight contraction around his length.
Alive with shooting pain, Matthew sobbed as the thick member invaded his rectum. His hands begged to be released so that they could grip the sheets to provide some measure of relief, but the cuffs did not give in. Instead, the Canadian dug his elbows farther into the mattress, letting tears fall onto the quivering skin of his arms.
"It would hurt less if you could relax," the Russian explained, letting a hand slink down to the boy's cock. Gasping at the cold fingers on his prick, Matt couldn't stop the hitched moans emanating from his throat as he was lightly stroked. Shame overshadowed the pleasure and the ache, as only Alfred's hand belonged there.
Smirking, Ivan took his hand away and moved it to the electric power source. He decided to start off easy, moving the dial to only the first level. "Ah!" Matt squeaked as a tingling sensation stimulated the sensitive nerves around his anus. "A-Ahhhh…"
"Did I not tell you it would feel good? Is not so bad, da?" At least, it wasn't for now, but Ivan was sure that would change by the end. Slowly, he began the thrusting rhythm, satisfied with the friction surrounding him. Matthew moved his hips with their pace, wanting to finish as fast as he could so Ivan would leave. Still, he couldn't deny that the electricity was rather arousing, his high-pitched mewling accentuated when the dildo brushed against his prostate.
"Ah-Ahhhhhn," the Canadian moaned with quivering thighs, his cock twitching as if the electrode had been directly applied to it. Losing himself in the physical delight, Alfred began to fade from his mind as he rocked a little faster.
"You see? I can be gentle just like your precious American. However…" Ivan trailed off as his fingers touched the dial on the power source, "…I can also be rough." In an instant, the Russian's hands turned the dial all the way up to full power.
Matthew shrieked deafeningly as the current seared through him, eyes bulging as his body convulsed violently. Laughing, Ivan rammed into him harder with each thrust, the boy screeching as his prostate was struck mercilessly. The voltage was blistering now, and he thrashed about on the slippery silk sheets, screaming, "ALFRED!" over and over.
"Where is he?" Ivan taunted as he vehemently rode the flailing Canadian. "Oh, Metyu, where is he? Where is your hero, now?"
"ALFRED! ALFRED!" Matt wailed, squirming like an earthworm caught in the mouth of a starving bird, the burning feeling in his backside excruciating.
"Why, he is miles from here!" he jeered, his violet eyes instilled with sadistic pleasure. "Miles! He cannot hear you. Not one bit."
"ALFRED!"
"By all means, keep shouting," the Russian encouraged him, feeling his peak coming on as the boy's entrance squeezed continually around the dildo like a rapidly beating heart. "Shout all you desire for your dear Alfred, but he will not come."
Within seconds, the climactic contractions in his dick began and semen spurt from the slit, filling the rubber interior of the dildo. Shutting off the electric power source, Ivan pulled out from the writhing boy, pleased with his orgasm. He released the Canadian from the leather shackle, gathered his things together and turned off the lights on the way out. "Good night, Metyu."
Matthew was still twitching as the door closed, his spine feeding off the electric current, his throat raw from all of his screaming. Curling up into a ball, he hid his face in his knees as he cried, aware of the blood trickling out from his tender hole.
. . .
What was it, some point past nine? What does it matter? Alfred thought, still lying hopelessly on his lover's bed. How does time matter at all when he's gone?
He assumed his friends must have left at some point, and his father had already come in to check on him and learn the situation. Not that any of that mattered. No, nothing mattered without Matthew. Nothing at all. Not even the sore ache forming in his neck mattered.
God, why was the pillow so uncomfortable, anyway? Unable to ignore the irritation anymore, the American lifted his head and threw the pillow off the bed. What he found underneath surprised him: it was a notebook. The memory of Matthew asking him for something to write in flooded back, although he thought nothing of it at the time. His curiosity was piqued, so Alfred found the string bookmark and opened to the last page written in.
"I can't believe it even as I write. I made love with Alfred last. I made love with Alfred last night. How many times do I have to write that until I believe it? And now Mr. Kirkland is letting me stay permanently, even after he found out I made love with Alfred. Can you tell how much I love writing that sentence? I'll write it again: I made love with Alfred. This is the greatest I've ever felt in my life. Oh yeah, and I have a new life. I'll explain that soon, but first, let me catch my breath."
It was a journal, and although he knew it was wrong to pry into his lover's private thoughts, Alfred read over the following paragraphs, his heart mended and torn at the same time. This was definite proof that Matthew loved him…and that he hadn't left on his own accord. This…this…
…This could be evidence he could bring to the police to support his case. Surely they'd read it and come to the same conclusion, right? No, he still needed an address so they'd have some place to look.
Realization flooding over him, Alfred flipped to the beginning of the journal, thinking that the Canadian might have written it down. He found a passage that caught his eye:
"I told them that I might be able to find the ring if I was brought back to New York City, but that was a lie. I could never forget the address Ivan Braginski ingrained into my mind:"
The address for the Sunflower Hotel was documented right beneath those words.
"DAD!" he shouted, running out of the room with the journal in hand. "DAD, WE HAVE TO GO TO THE POLICE!"
Coming down the stairs as fast as he could, Arthur asked, "What the bloody hell are you-"
That was when he saw the notebook his son was clutching. "Dad, I have it," Alfred declared. "I have the evidence right here. I have testimony, I have the leader's name, and I have the address."
"…We'll pick up Gilbert on the way there," the Brit stated, throwing on his jacket and pulling the car keys out of his pocket. "We'll be more influential with him there."
Alfred nodded, rushing out after his father. Matt, just hold on, his heart implored. I'm coming to get you.
