Gregor wakes in a small, dark, enclosed space. He realizes that there's a gag shoved almost painfully tight in his mouth, he's blindfolded, and his wrists and ankles are tied. He has a moment of vertigo before realizing that he's moving, and he can dimmly see light flashes passing through the cloth--he's in a car trunk. Then he remembers the men...and the note...
The car slows to a stop and he hears doors open and close as men get out. The trunk opens and he sees silhouettes of men standing above him.
He braces himself, glad that the sudden brightness is tempered by the blindfold. He lays as still as possible, hoping to learn something if they think he's still unconscious.
"You carry him." one of them said, stepping back a little. The other man grabbed Gregor around the waist and threw him over his shoulder roughly.
"Do you think Ivar will come after him?"
"Not if he's left a note. I'd rather just mail bits of him to Ivar afterwards."
Gregor is small enough that he can be easily carried, and he feels that the man is quite a bit larger than him. His eyes widen for a moment behind the blindfold, but he forces himself to stay limp and keep his breathing even.
They carry him inside, then down some stairs. He can see some bright lights through the blindfold. He is dropped to a concrete floor that slopes down to a drain and he hears one of the men grab a pair of chains or shackles. There's a clink and a cold sensation as they are closed around his wrists. The chain is long and goes off somewhere behind him. Gregor gets a kick in the ribs. "Wake up."
Gregor feels himself start to fall, and positions himself to land as best he can, as inconspicuously as he can. He gives an exagerated groan when he's kicked, making it sound like it bothered him far more than it did.
The english accent had given away at least something. "Get up, you piece of shit." he got another kick, this time in the groin. "Ivar's bitch."
Gregor actually does groan at that--he'd never been able to handle much pain in that particular area, though he's accustomed enough to pain in general that he isn't rendered helpless. He sits up, slowly.
The blindfold is removed and he's sat in a chair, forcefully lifted by his collar and pushed down into it. The man who's further away from him is holding a large and heavy looking hammer. "Gregor." he smiled. "I'm Percy. This is my brother, John. You're not the first bitch Ivar has had, you know, but you're the first that lasted so long. Our brother lasted four months." he hissed.
"Ya ne govoryu po angliĭski," he says, shaking his head and shrugging apologetically; he wants to learn as much as he can before committing himself to anything.
"We know you speak english. We know a lot about you, Gregor. We were planning on going after Lydon instead, but his place was pretty tough to even get to." he hefted the hammer experimentally, dropping it into his palm.
Gregor shrugs inwardly; he hadn't really expected that to work. "I am...sorry...about your brother," he says, thickening his accent intentionally.
"I don't really care if you are or aren't. This isn't about you. This is about the man who owns and seems to like you."
"You can kill me. Ivar can always find another. I'm not sure what you hope to do here."
"We want him to realize that he can never have another boy. If he replaces you, we'll kill the next one. If he ever loves one of you, he will feel it when we send you back in parts." the hammer was hefted again and this time came down on Gregor's thigh.
Gregor screams freely; even Ivar had never used something like this on him, and he's always found screaming helpful when dealing with pain.
The hammer raises and descends probably a dozen times before the sound of his femur breaking can be heard. There is blood staining his pants and the man is panting, still holding the hammer.
Gregor closes his eyes and breathes deeply throughout, swaying back and forth gently. The crack of his femur snaps him out of his concentration and he screams again, head spinning as he looks at the mutilated leg.
Now the men stand him up, forcing him to put weight on the leg by kicking at his good leg.
Gregor instead lets his good leg drop, keeping the knee of his bad leg bent as much as possible so it doesn't hit the floor or anything else. It hurts, and the world swims, but he hasn't put weight on it.
They drag him up by his hair, forcing him to his foot. One of them holds him by the hair while the other undresses him, ripping off his shirt, buttons flying. When he gets to his pants, he takes special care to peel the material away from the bloody wound.
Gregor stands, a little shakily, not trying to hide his pain, keeping his the knee of his bad leg cocked to keep it off the ground still. He doesn't move, letting them undress him, staring into space. Only his ragged breathing shows that his control isn't perfect.
The brothers exchange a look, then both of them unzip their pants.
Gregor swallows hard, mostly out of surprise--this, he had not been expecting.
They bend him over the chair, one of them behind, the other in front. The one in front opens Gregor's mouth, hooking a finger behind his teeth and pulling, forcing his cock in the other's mouth.
The one behind grabs Gregor by the thighs and forces his way in.
Tears run freely down Gregor's face when he's bent over the chair--there's no way his leg won't be jostled, and the pain is unbelievable. His vision explodes in black and white spots and he passes out for a moment. The feeling of being forcefully, painfully entered brings him round with a sharp groan. Panicked, and realizing with what's left of his rational mind that he probably won't survive, he bites as hard as he can.
"Fuck!" the man screamed, forcing Gregor's teeth apart, removing his cock and kicking Gregor in the face, mostly hitting his cheek and nose. Blood started to pour from his nose. The one behind him didn't stop, in fact he tightened his fingers in the wound.
Gregor screams over and over until his voice gives way to ragged panting, his eyes huge. He's thrashing as best he can, tears coming in such a flood that he can't even see, trying only to desperately get away, no longer thinking at all.
After awhile, the man behind him finishes up. The one in front left to go tend to his injury. Gregor was left bent over the chair, thigh and nose dripping quite a lot of blood on the floor.
Gregor lays completely limp, all his energy spent in his wild and futile struggle. His breathing is shallow and infrequent, his eyes swollen shut. If anyone were looking, they would see his eyelids twitch occasionally as his eyes move underneath, but that's the only sign of life. He dimmly hears a dog barking, and assumes he's dying. He smiles, slowly and painfully, and inhales deeply, preparing to breathe his last.
***
Ivar's face slowly swam into view. "Master?" Gregor murmured, bewildered. "...are you dead, too?"
"No, Gregor." Ivar bent down, pressing a cool cloth to Gregor's forehead. "And neither are you."
"But...how...my note...I'm so sorry, sir!" The manservant suddenly found himself sobbing hot, noisy tears as he clung desperately to his beloved master's hand.
"Shh, Gregor, you'll hurt yourself." Ivar soothed him. "Everything is alright."
Gregor can only nod helplessly until his tears subside. "What happened?" he croaked, voice tight with pain and sobbing.
"I found you. I told you I would find you if you ever left me." Ivar's face swam out of Gregor's sight for a second, then he returned with a syringe, injecting it into Gregor's arm. "I am glad I got there when I did. If I had been much later, you wouldn't have made it." he stroked Gregor's forehead gently.
"I thought I was dead," Gregor admitted, turning away from the shot. "What's that? ...I had always assumed that if you came looking for me, it would be to kill me, not to save me," he said, wryly.
"It would depend on the situation." he chuckled. "You were obviously not there of your own free will. No matter what the situation, I was going to find you."
"I'm very glad you did," Gregor whispered, blinking away more tears. "They're dead?"
"Yes." he gently brushed the tears off Gregor's cheek with a pale finger. "It's alright, boy." he smiled a little.
"Good," the manservant said, fiercely. "I don't care what you did to their brother," he avoided looking at Ivar, "I didn't do anything to them."
"Do you want to know what happened to their brother?" Ivar asked softly.
"Yes. If you want to tell me." Gregor shrugged, wincing a little as the movement hurt him.
"Don't move too much. The pain killer won't kick in for a little while longer." Ivar stroked Gregor's hair, trying to relax his manservant. "Their brother was one of the most extreme masochists I'd ever met. He came when I slit his throat and he did so with a smile."
Gregor nodded, soothed by Ivar's hand on his hair. "Really? That's...wow." He laughed. "I don't imagine they knew that about him. Or wanted to. I didn't think you enjoyed, ah...back then..."
"Enjoyed willing boys?" Ivar smiled, weaving his fingers through Gregor's soft hair. "It was rare, but when an opportunity presents itself... it's always fun to take advantage."
"That makes sense. Um...will there be...permanent damage? I'm almost afraid to ask."
"Yes. You'll limp. Probably for the rest of your life." Ivar said bluntly. He'd never believed in cushioning a blow when it came to one's health (which may have helped to drive a wedge between him and Lydon).
Gregor nodded again, turning his face away for a moment to hide his pained expression. "Thank you," he whispered.
Ivar stroked his chin. "You'll still be every bit as useful to me, Gregor, if that's what you're worried about."
The manservant's eyes widened in pain; he hadn't even thought that far ahead yet. "I would understand if you wanted to let me go."
"No. You'll need time to recover, but I'll be taking care of you." Ivar sighed. "I will make it as easy for you as I can."
Gregor shook his head violently. "No. You hired me to do a job. If I can't do it, I shouldn't be a burden on you."
"You will still do your job. And, if you remember, you have full health benefits if any accidents occur. I'm only sorry I didn't keep you safe."
"Yes sir. I'm sorry," Gregor murmured, mollified. He abruptly sat up and clung to his master. "It's not your fault. You saved me, even though for all you knew I had just left. ...ow."
Ivar pushed Gregor back down, getting up on the hospital-style bed and holding his servant in his arms, against his chest. "You rest, Gregor." he kissed the other man, surprisingly tenderly.
Gregor nodded, feeling a little foolish for his outburst, but slowly relaxing as the drug kicked in and he was comforted in Ivar's arms. "Thank you, sir," the stocky Russian said, fiercely. "I would do anything for you, you know," he murmured, getting a little less than lucid.
"I know, darogoi." he said, stroking his lover's hair and humming a lullaby.
"Even...fight off the invading chipmunk army..." Gregor blinked, realizing what he had just said made no sense. "Ah...sorry...must be falling asleep..."
Ivar chuckled. "Good boy. You sleep."
"Mmm-hmm..." Pressed safely to his master's chest and pleasantly drugged, Gregor is soon asleep.
