Fic, Silk and Steel, Part 43
Sep. 16th, 2009 04:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fredbassettTitle : Silk and Steel, Part 43
Authors : fredbassett & munchkinofdoom
Fandom : Primeval
Characters : Connor, Lacey, Thomson, Ryan, Sergeant Miller, Matt Rees
Rating : 18
Disclaimer : Not ours, no money made, don’t sue
Spoilers : None
Summary : Captain Thomson is determined to make Connor see the error of his ways.
A/N : Matt Rees appears by kind permission oftelperion_15 and Captain Thomson by kind permission of deinonychus_1
Warning : Slave!fic, including some violence!
The situation had already gone to hell by the time Tanya Lacey entered the Punishment Room. Connor stood, shivering in reaction, in the middle of the stark, white-tiled room, with the heavily-set sergeant towering over him as the young man tried, with trembling fingers, to undo the buttons on his waistcoat.
Connor's head turned sharply as Lacey's booted feet echoed on the tiles, his eyes wide and terrified, as he looked to her for rescue. Mouthing sorry, she could do nothing more than shake her head in regret.
"Private."
Taking a calming breath, Lacey turned to Captain Thomson and saluted. "Sir."
"Your radio, if you please."
Struggling to keep her face neutral, Lacey pulled off her ear-piece and removed the radio from her equipment vest. She held the captain's gaze for a moment as she handed them over, then lowered her eyes before any accusations of insolence could be made.
"Thank you," Thomson said, mildly. "You will stay quiet if you wish to remain with your charge. Any attempt to disrupt this punishment will result in disciplinary action. Do you understand, Private?"
"Yes, sir."
"Continue, Sergeant Miller."
"But… but…" stuttered Connor, "I don't understand!" he wailed, his voice thick with both exhaustion and tears.
The sergeant's large hands grasped Connor's waistcoat, tearing free the remaining buttons and pulling it bodily off of him. His shirt followed suit, the sound of ripping material loud in the almost silent room, with Connor's hitched sobs the only other sound.
Lacey watched Captain Thomson nod, and the sergeant grinned wolfishly before pulling a blindfold from his equipment vest.
Connor’s eyes widened in horror and he took a step backwards.
Miller’s hand shot out, and before the boy had time to voice a protest, the blindfold had been secured in place. Something that sounded suspiciously like a whine fell from Connor’s lips. Moments later, the boy was spun sharply around to face the stainless steel bars fastened to one wall.
With an economy of movement that spoke of long practice, the sergeant quickly secured Connor’s wrists and ankles in place with broad leather straps linked to the metal frame by adjustable chains. It was obvious to Lacey that Miller had deliberately stretched Connor’s limbs tighter than strictly necessary, intending to cause additional pain.
Fucking sadist, the kid was terrified enough, without the need for additional dominance games. He wore a collar and he was in the Punishment Room. That was all that was needed to scare him spitless.
Lacey took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to force her own reactions under control. There was nothing she could do to help Connor now.
The sound of the door being yanked open broke her concentration, but a swift flare of hope was rapidly dampened by the arrival of Thomson’s medic, Lieutenant Rees.
The young soldier threw a crisp salute at his captain then stepped forward to carry out his duties. “Just checking your bindings, lad,” said the young soldier, in a low, but reassuring tone.
Lacey watched as Rees made slight adjustments to each of the chains, slackening them fractionally to reduce the strain on Connor’s limbs, which earned him a glare from Miller, but drew no reaction from his captain.
Rees stepped back and glanced at Thomson. “What punishment have you ordered, sir?”
“Ten strokes with the strap,” said Thomson, impassively. “He needs to learn the error of his ways, but we don’t want him hospitalized, he has that damned machine to fix.”
Rees nodded, and stepped for a moment into a small side room, returning with a long leather strap, two inches wide. He inspected it quickly, wiped it down with disinfectant and handed it to Miller. The sergeant took it, a feral grin splitting the man’s pugilistic face. He wound the strap around his hand, leaving a metre and a half of leather dangling from his fist.
“Mr Temple is fit to receive punishment, sir,” said Matt Rees, his dark eyes giving nothing away as he stepped to one side, taking up position opposite the door.
“Get on with it, Sergeant,” ordered Thomson. “We haven’t got all day.”
Miller nodded and stepped forward, his tread sounding heavy on the tiled floor.
Lacey tensed, readying herself for the first blow to fall. She could see the muscles in Connor’s back tense, waiting for the strap to fall, and she fought against the urge to tell him to relax, it would be less painful that way. The sergeant drew his arm back as slowly as he could, studiously avoiding Thomson’s gaze, quite deliberately drawing out the anticipation. Bastard.
The impatient tap of Thomson’s booted toe on the tiled floor brought an end to Miller’s mind games.
The sergeant brought his arm down with as much force as he could muster and the crack of the leather hitting the pale skin of Connor’s back echoed like a pistol-shot in the silence of the Punishment Room.
It was all Tanya Lacey could do not to jump as Connor’s cry of pain and fear was ripped from his dry lips.
The second blow fell before the scream had even finished leaving Connor’s mouth.
Lacey winced. She’d watched sods like Miller administering punishment before. The man knew exactly how to gain maximum effect even from something as simple as a strapping. Make them sweat waiting for the first one. Then get the second one in while the victim was still in shock, but draw it out before the third, the anticipation almost as damaging as the actual blow.
A huge, heaving sob wracked Connor’s skinny frame as he twisted in the bindings in pain and shock. Two broad, red stripes stood out in stark relief on his flesh.
A frown drew Matt Rees’ dark eyebrows together. The young lieutenant knew exactly what game Miller was playing, but he was powerless to intervene.
Tanya Lacey realised she was holding her breath, waiting for the strap to land for the third time. She could see the muscles bunch in Miller’s arm, under his black shirt, and knew with a sickening certainty that the sergeant was about to put even more force into the next blow.
The leather of the strap fell with a sickening crack, diagonally across Connor’s body. His scream was high and shrill, the cry of a small animal in pain.
Miller stepped back a pace, staring with satisfaction at the three red weals left behind by the leather strap. Each one stood out separately, with hardly any overlap. The blows had fallen cleanly, not cutting the skin, the marks of their contact plain for everyone to see.
The sergeant took a pace forward again then wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Little bastard’s pissed himself,” he announced, with a grin, flicking the strap in the direction of the growing pool of liquid forming around Connor’s left boot.
The noise of booted feet approaching down the corridor drew Lacey’s attention. There was an urgency in the steps that twisted her stomach with hope. Let it be Captain Ryan, please God, let it be Captain Ryan, she thought, her hands bunching into fists at her side at the sound of Connor’s gulping sobs.
The footsteps hadn’t escaped Miller’s notice either. His arm rose remorselessly, and the next stroke fell heavily on Connor’s right side, the leather of the strap curling around his upper body to lash painfully at his nipple.
Once, in her teens, Lacey had seen a rabbit ripped apart by two dogs. The noise Connor was making now reminded her of the piteous cries of the doomed animal. She had hated blood sports ever since that day.
Captain Ryan strode into the room, blue eyes like chips of ice taking in the sight of Connor’s limp body and the liquid pooling at his feet.
Thomson met the other captain’s gaze calmly. “We’re nearly done here, Ryan. I’ll be with you in a matter of minutes.”
Ryan shook his head implacably. “This ends now. Lester’s orders. He wants Connor back working on the ADD.”
“And he will be. It’s only ten straps, Ryan. Just enough to ginger him up. This doesn’t warrant Sir James’ attention, or yours.”
Miller took advantage of the stand off between the two men to swing the strap, ready for another blow. Lacey tensed, readying herself for action at Ryan’s command, but with a frown in Thomson’s direction, her captain crossed the space between himself and the sergeant in two quick steps, his hand closing around Miller’s wrist.
“I have my orders and I said this ends now!” he hissed, as he twisted Miller’s arm down and behind the man’s back, pushing him to one side. “Lacey, release Mr Temple.”
The sergeant stumbled, caught off-balance by Ryan’s manoeuvre.
Tanya Lacey didn’t need telling twice. In the space of a heartbeat she was at Connor’s side, hands gentle on his arm.
“No!” Connor’s voice was high-pitched and he cringed under her touch.
“Connor, it’s me, Tanya. It’s over, Conn. No one’s going to hurt you now.”
As she bent down and fumbled first to undo the straps around the young man’s ankles, she caught a whiff of the sharp smell of urine, then realised belatedly that Connor was still blindfolded. She straightened up, having freed his feet, in time to see Captain Thomson turn on his heel and stalk out of the room, directing an uncompromising glare at Ryan as went.
Sergeant Miller stood in the middle of the room, hands bunched into fists, dark anger suffusing his face.
“Touch me and you’re a dead man, Sergeant.” There was no threat in Ryan’s voice, only certainty.
A look that Tanya Lacey couldn’t quite fathom flickered in Miller’s pale eyes, then the man dropped his hands, wiping his face clear of all emotion. At a nod of dismissal from Ryan, he followed Thomson from the room, the heavy tread of his boots sounding loud in the silence.
A whine from her young charge dragged Lacey’s attention back to Connor and she quickly freed his eyes from the blindfold and worked on the wrist-straps.
Lieutenant Rees stepped quickly up and helped her catch Connor’s weight before the lad slumped bonelessly to the floor.
“We’ve got you, Conn, you’re all right.” His eyes met hers, wide and frightened, and again she was reminded of that rabbit.
“Come on, Connor,” said Rees, looping one of Connor’s arms around his shoulders. “Let’s get you to the infirmary for some painkillers and a change of clothes. It sounds like the boss wants you back at work pretty soon.”
“He does,” said Ryan, gently but firmly. “Lacey, stay with him. Lester wants the ADD fixed before he leaves for London. He wants it working and he wants to know what went wrong. Do you understand me, Connor?”
“I can tell you exactly what went wrong with it, Captain,” said a fresh voice from the doorway.
Lacey looked up to see Annie Morris, wearing a white lab coat over her navy blue trouser suit, standing in the doorway, a look of disgust on her face.
“Someone cut two rather important wires, that’s what went wrong with it, dear. Niall is fixing them now. We need Connor to see who tampered with the security tapes, and to discover what else they might have done. I can’t imagine that whoever it was has been stupid enough to leave any evidence behind them of their sabotage, but we might at least get some clue from the footage.”
Leaving the reverberations from her statement rippling outwards across the room, Annie Morris gave a sympathetic nod to Connor, studiously ignoring the wet stain spreading down from the front of his trousers.
To Lacey’s amazement, Connor managed to muster a very small and very shaky smile, before he suddenly went limp and crumpled to the floor in a faint.
Matt Rees managed to stop Connor’s head impacting on the tiles, and between the two of them, they started to carry him to the infirmary, with the word sabotage, and all its implications, racing around in Lacey’s mind.
Authors : fredbassett & munchkinofdoom
Fandom : Primeval
Characters : Connor, Lacey, Thomson, Ryan, Sergeant Miller, Matt Rees
Rating : 18
Disclaimer : Not ours, no money made, don’t sue
Spoilers : None
Summary : Captain Thomson is determined to make Connor see the error of his ways.
A/N : Matt Rees appears by kind permission of
telperion_15 and Captain Thomson by kind permission of deinonychus_1 Warning : Slave!fic, including some violence!
The situation had already gone to hell by the time Tanya Lacey entered the Punishment Room. Connor stood, shivering in reaction, in the middle of the stark, white-tiled room, with the heavily-set sergeant towering over him as the young man tried, with trembling fingers, to undo the buttons on his waistcoat.
Connor's head turned sharply as Lacey's booted feet echoed on the tiles, his eyes wide and terrified, as he looked to her for rescue. Mouthing sorry, she could do nothing more than shake her head in regret.
"Private."
Taking a calming breath, Lacey turned to Captain Thomson and saluted. "Sir."
"Your radio, if you please."
Struggling to keep her face neutral, Lacey pulled off her ear-piece and removed the radio from her equipment vest. She held the captain's gaze for a moment as she handed them over, then lowered her eyes before any accusations of insolence could be made.
"Thank you," Thomson said, mildly. "You will stay quiet if you wish to remain with your charge. Any attempt to disrupt this punishment will result in disciplinary action. Do you understand, Private?"
"Yes, sir."
"Continue, Sergeant Miller."
"But… but…" stuttered Connor, "I don't understand!" he wailed, his voice thick with both exhaustion and tears.
The sergeant's large hands grasped Connor's waistcoat, tearing free the remaining buttons and pulling it bodily off of him. His shirt followed suit, the sound of ripping material loud in the almost silent room, with Connor's hitched sobs the only other sound.
Lacey watched Captain Thomson nod, and the sergeant grinned wolfishly before pulling a blindfold from his equipment vest.
Connor’s eyes widened in horror and he took a step backwards.
Miller’s hand shot out, and before the boy had time to voice a protest, the blindfold had been secured in place. Something that sounded suspiciously like a whine fell from Connor’s lips. Moments later, the boy was spun sharply around to face the stainless steel bars fastened to one wall.
With an economy of movement that spoke of long practice, the sergeant quickly secured Connor’s wrists and ankles in place with broad leather straps linked to the metal frame by adjustable chains. It was obvious to Lacey that Miller had deliberately stretched Connor’s limbs tighter than strictly necessary, intending to cause additional pain.
Fucking sadist, the kid was terrified enough, without the need for additional dominance games. He wore a collar and he was in the Punishment Room. That was all that was needed to scare him spitless.
Lacey took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to force her own reactions under control. There was nothing she could do to help Connor now.
The sound of the door being yanked open broke her concentration, but a swift flare of hope was rapidly dampened by the arrival of Thomson’s medic, Lieutenant Rees.
The young soldier threw a crisp salute at his captain then stepped forward to carry out his duties. “Just checking your bindings, lad,” said the young soldier, in a low, but reassuring tone.
Lacey watched as Rees made slight adjustments to each of the chains, slackening them fractionally to reduce the strain on Connor’s limbs, which earned him a glare from Miller, but drew no reaction from his captain.
Rees stepped back and glanced at Thomson. “What punishment have you ordered, sir?”
“Ten strokes with the strap,” said Thomson, impassively. “He needs to learn the error of his ways, but we don’t want him hospitalized, he has that damned machine to fix.”
Rees nodded, and stepped for a moment into a small side room, returning with a long leather strap, two inches wide. He inspected it quickly, wiped it down with disinfectant and handed it to Miller. The sergeant took it, a feral grin splitting the man’s pugilistic face. He wound the strap around his hand, leaving a metre and a half of leather dangling from his fist.
“Mr Temple is fit to receive punishment, sir,” said Matt Rees, his dark eyes giving nothing away as he stepped to one side, taking up position opposite the door.
“Get on with it, Sergeant,” ordered Thomson. “We haven’t got all day.”
Miller nodded and stepped forward, his tread sounding heavy on the tiled floor.
Lacey tensed, readying herself for the first blow to fall. She could see the muscles in Connor’s back tense, waiting for the strap to fall, and she fought against the urge to tell him to relax, it would be less painful that way. The sergeant drew his arm back as slowly as he could, studiously avoiding Thomson’s gaze, quite deliberately drawing out the anticipation. Bastard.
The impatient tap of Thomson’s booted toe on the tiled floor brought an end to Miller’s mind games.
The sergeant brought his arm down with as much force as he could muster and the crack of the leather hitting the pale skin of Connor’s back echoed like a pistol-shot in the silence of the Punishment Room.
It was all Tanya Lacey could do not to jump as Connor’s cry of pain and fear was ripped from his dry lips.
The second blow fell before the scream had even finished leaving Connor’s mouth.
Lacey winced. She’d watched sods like Miller administering punishment before. The man knew exactly how to gain maximum effect even from something as simple as a strapping. Make them sweat waiting for the first one. Then get the second one in while the victim was still in shock, but draw it out before the third, the anticipation almost as damaging as the actual blow.
A huge, heaving sob wracked Connor’s skinny frame as he twisted in the bindings in pain and shock. Two broad, red stripes stood out in stark relief on his flesh.
A frown drew Matt Rees’ dark eyebrows together. The young lieutenant knew exactly what game Miller was playing, but he was powerless to intervene.
Tanya Lacey realised she was holding her breath, waiting for the strap to land for the third time. She could see the muscles bunch in Miller’s arm, under his black shirt, and knew with a sickening certainty that the sergeant was about to put even more force into the next blow.
The leather of the strap fell with a sickening crack, diagonally across Connor’s body. His scream was high and shrill, the cry of a small animal in pain.
Miller stepped back a pace, staring with satisfaction at the three red weals left behind by the leather strap. Each one stood out separately, with hardly any overlap. The blows had fallen cleanly, not cutting the skin, the marks of their contact plain for everyone to see.
The sergeant took a pace forward again then wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Little bastard’s pissed himself,” he announced, with a grin, flicking the strap in the direction of the growing pool of liquid forming around Connor’s left boot.
The noise of booted feet approaching down the corridor drew Lacey’s attention. There was an urgency in the steps that twisted her stomach with hope. Let it be Captain Ryan, please God, let it be Captain Ryan, she thought, her hands bunching into fists at her side at the sound of Connor’s gulping sobs.
The footsteps hadn’t escaped Miller’s notice either. His arm rose remorselessly, and the next stroke fell heavily on Connor’s right side, the leather of the strap curling around his upper body to lash painfully at his nipple.
Once, in her teens, Lacey had seen a rabbit ripped apart by two dogs. The noise Connor was making now reminded her of the piteous cries of the doomed animal. She had hated blood sports ever since that day.
Captain Ryan strode into the room, blue eyes like chips of ice taking in the sight of Connor’s limp body and the liquid pooling at his feet.
Thomson met the other captain’s gaze calmly. “We’re nearly done here, Ryan. I’ll be with you in a matter of minutes.”
Ryan shook his head implacably. “This ends now. Lester’s orders. He wants Connor back working on the ADD.”
“And he will be. It’s only ten straps, Ryan. Just enough to ginger him up. This doesn’t warrant Sir James’ attention, or yours.”
Miller took advantage of the stand off between the two men to swing the strap, ready for another blow. Lacey tensed, readying herself for action at Ryan’s command, but with a frown in Thomson’s direction, her captain crossed the space between himself and the sergeant in two quick steps, his hand closing around Miller’s wrist.
“I have my orders and I said this ends now!” he hissed, as he twisted Miller’s arm down and behind the man’s back, pushing him to one side. “Lacey, release Mr Temple.”
The sergeant stumbled, caught off-balance by Ryan’s manoeuvre.
Tanya Lacey didn’t need telling twice. In the space of a heartbeat she was at Connor’s side, hands gentle on his arm.
“No!” Connor’s voice was high-pitched and he cringed under her touch.
“Connor, it’s me, Tanya. It’s over, Conn. No one’s going to hurt you now.”
As she bent down and fumbled first to undo the straps around the young man’s ankles, she caught a whiff of the sharp smell of urine, then realised belatedly that Connor was still blindfolded. She straightened up, having freed his feet, in time to see Captain Thomson turn on his heel and stalk out of the room, directing an uncompromising glare at Ryan as went.
Sergeant Miller stood in the middle of the room, hands bunched into fists, dark anger suffusing his face.
“Touch me and you’re a dead man, Sergeant.” There was no threat in Ryan’s voice, only certainty.
A look that Tanya Lacey couldn’t quite fathom flickered in Miller’s pale eyes, then the man dropped his hands, wiping his face clear of all emotion. At a nod of dismissal from Ryan, he followed Thomson from the room, the heavy tread of his boots sounding loud in the silence.
A whine from her young charge dragged Lacey’s attention back to Connor and she quickly freed his eyes from the blindfold and worked on the wrist-straps.
Lieutenant Rees stepped quickly up and helped her catch Connor’s weight before the lad slumped bonelessly to the floor.
“We’ve got you, Conn, you’re all right.” His eyes met hers, wide and frightened, and again she was reminded of that rabbit.
“Come on, Connor,” said Rees, looping one of Connor’s arms around his shoulders. “Let’s get you to the infirmary for some painkillers and a change of clothes. It sounds like the boss wants you back at work pretty soon.”
“He does,” said Ryan, gently but firmly. “Lacey, stay with him. Lester wants the ADD fixed before he leaves for London. He wants it working and he wants to know what went wrong. Do you understand me, Connor?”
“I can tell you exactly what went wrong with it, Captain,” said a fresh voice from the doorway.
Lacey looked up to see Annie Morris, wearing a white lab coat over her navy blue trouser suit, standing in the doorway, a look of disgust on her face.
“Someone cut two rather important wires, that’s what went wrong with it, dear. Niall is fixing them now. We need Connor to see who tampered with the security tapes, and to discover what else they might have done. I can’t imagine that whoever it was has been stupid enough to leave any evidence behind them of their sabotage, but we might at least get some clue from the footage.”
Leaving the reverberations from her statement rippling outwards across the room, Annie Morris gave a sympathetic nod to Connor, studiously ignoring the wet stain spreading down from the front of his trousers.
To Lacey’s amazement, Connor managed to muster a very small and very shaky smile, before he suddenly went limp and crumpled to the floor in a faint.
Matt Rees managed to stop Connor’s head impacting on the tiles, and between the two of them, they started to carry him to the infirmary, with the word sabotage, and all its implications, racing around in Lacey’s mind.