00/12

From 12 stories over on Livejournal

I hear you callin’ and it’s needles and pins (and pins)
I wanna hurt you just to hear you screaming my name
Don’t wanna touch you, but you’re under my skin (deep in)
I wanna kiss you, but your lips are venomous poison

There is something comforting in the tightness of the high boots when I tie the laces. It is the role that follows with these boots. The boots I only wear to this kind of dates. They say that the clothes do not make the man, but these boots for sure makes a master out of me. I look in the mirror, checking that everything is the way I know you like. Shirt, tie, suit pants and vest. The only thing that gives away that this is not a formal dinner is the boots. Black, to match everything but the shirt, and leather. The boots you loved so much you bought for me. I pick up the bag containing everything we agreed upon and a little extra, just a little valentines gift from me to you. You said I didn’t like the day, stupid day you said. Only for the commercial value. But damn it, I’m the master and I wanted to get you something.

The ride is short. I do not live in an apartment fit for our style of play, and your house is out of the question. It is your turf, not mine. It’s a common friend’s place we use. He lets us borrow the dungeon of his as long as we leave it as we found it. Tonight he’s out with his own mistress, but that doesn’t matter, we both got keys. He trusts us. I smirk when I see your car in the driveway, good to see that for once you decided to follow orders and arrive when I told you to. I wonder how many of my instructions you’ve followed. You can be such a brat at times.  I lock myself into the house and head for the basement. That is part of the deal, apart from the kitchen and the downstairs sitting room; we are only allowed to use the dungeon.

You left the door open, like I told you too and you’re kneeling, facing the other wall. Good boy. I almost feel like purring already, but that is not for tonight. Tonight is for teaching you your place. That was after all what you requested. I let the bag fall to the ground. Making sure you know I am there. You don’t move so I assume you hear my footsteps. These boots are not exactly made for sneaking around in, are they? I walk up to you, circling around you. Your eyes are on the floor where they should be. I don’t touch you. Not yet. One more circle. Draw it out. I can see the goose bumps on your skin. It is good to see that I get to you. As I walk I take the gloves out of my pocket and pull them on. I don’t want to touch your skin. Once the circle is completed I squat down and am eyelevel with you. You meet my eyes, knowing that I expect to have your full attention when I talk.

“You’ve been a bad boy, haven’t you? Tonight is for the lack of emails and calls the last week.” That is not only a part of the game; you have been bad the last week. Some new project was taking all of your attention while you were away. I see a flicker of guilt in your eyes and I smirk. You requested being put in your place; it was up to me to decide why.

“You might want to answer that boy; you don’t want to make it worse on yourself now, do you?”

“No, sir. I am sorry sir”

“Mm. I have to make sure of that before I can accept your apology.” Satisfied with myself I stand up, letting myself take a moment to admire you. You are quite beautiful, too bad you know it. Your arms folded perfectly behind your back, pushing your chest forward, and the way you are looking at my feet, yet managing to keep your head tall and proud. I reach out as I walk past you, letting my hand run through your hair. I almost regret the gloves; I love the feel of your hair, almost like black silk.

“Stand up.” I can hear you follow the simple command as I pull my outer coat off and roll up my sleeves. I open the bag and pull out enough lengths of rope. You requested the hemp, saying you like the feel of it. Personally I am a bamboo man myself, but then again, I do not like being tied up in the first place so when I do I like it to be in something soft. I walk over to the wall in front of you, reaching up and pulling one length of rope through the heavy ring in the beam there. I know the ring can take your weight. It can take mine and I am quite a bit bigger than you. I know you are watching me, and I know you know what this means. We had not discussed suspension for tonight, and the only other times when I use this ring is when you are about to receive a proper whipping. Many subs, you included, do tend to relax their muscles when they are receiving punishment. Makes it easier to take. And I don’t want you to fall over, so we are adding a little support.

I tell you the tie I had in mind when I walk back to you. It is a standard between us, and you nod and turn around holding your arms in the correct position for the start of this. I start by tying your wrists together behind your back, and then the rope goes over your arms and chest a couple of times to create a good support. I like this specific harness for the fact that it ties your upper arms as well and thus makes it even harder to get out of.  Once we are done with this part you willingly follow me to underneath the bolt. I tie the rope from the bolt to the back of the harness and hoist you up a little, just an inch. You can still stand, but this heightens the sense of helplessness, you’ve told me so yourself. I consider adding in the spreader bar, but not tonight.

The first few times the flogger hits your backside I get no reaction from you. You are used to taking worse. I wouldn’t be playing with you if it was that easy. I keep hitting, letting the blows rain down on your back and thighs. When I finally get a whimper from you I stop. This is just the beginning after all. I walk back to the bag, picking up a cane. I know you have a love-hate relationship to the cane, for that very reason I love it. It is the best way of getting a reaction out of you. All it takes is a few well placed strokes, all in the same spot, and your breath catches. The sound of it makes me grin. I wonder if you have any idea how tempting this is. I think you do. I think you know just how much power you have over me. Maybe that is why you like handing it back in situations like this. When I feel like your ass is properly striped, and I know you won’t be sitting comfortably tomorrow I walk around you. There is sweat on your face and when I trace your jaw with the tip of the cane you turn and kiss it. Good boy, you are reaching that headspace where you truly give in to me.

I take a step back, letting another blow hit you, this time your chest. The look on your face tells me it won’t be long now. I lay stripes down your chest and stomach as well. Almost there, almost. After a particularly hard hit to the soft skin between your belly button and penis you finally give in and call my name. I smirk, step closer and kiss you. Hard and in charge. That was what I wanted from you tonight, not ‘Master’, not ‘Sir’ but my name. Everything else is a bonus.

I make sure to whisper to you, telling you what a good boy you are, when I take you down and out of the ropes. The ropes go back in the bag, I’ll sort them out tomorrow, and I fish out that last little thing. I secure the dog tag around your neck and smile at the puzzled look on your face.

“My name, pet, so you remember who you belong to” It was a regular old dog tag, I even got it at a pet store, and all it had was my first name. I think about how I am going to make love to you when we get home to my apartment, sweet and gentle, I don’t think your ass can take anything else. But right now, all that matters is to hold you for a few moments

The cold water was making his skin turn into goose bumps. The wet rain was making its way through the suit, his feet were already wet. The shoes themselves were good, but the water had seeped in through the socks. His partner sneezed and Rude shook his head. Even in this shit weather Reno was refusing to button up his suit. If he had believed Reno cared he would have commented, but the redhead had been short with him for the last week.

That mess had all started last Friday, six days ago now. The two of them had taken their regular Friday drink. Rude had enjoyed these moments with his partner greatly, the joking and only half mocking insults. Reno still called him faggot, even after the redhead had developed a taste in men himself. That had been one of the first things Rude had told Reno about himself, the first time the two of them had been out like this after being paired together. Reno had just shrugged and smiled, and then made a comment about how there was more women for him. Rude had made sure to make a snarky comment back once his partner found himself fancying men as well.

Last Friday had started out as a regular night for the two of them; Reno had paid for the beer and flirted briefly with the bartender. Once he had come back to their table he had smirked at Rude and passed him a paper slip.

“Got the bartender’s number for you, he seemed like your type.”

“Oh…um… Reno there is something I should tell you.”

“Speak up then.”

“Reno, I am seeing someone.”

“Oh… That is great; I’ll take that number then. Someone I know?”

“Yes”

“Who? Don’t tell me SOLDIER guys are your type.”

“No… It is…um… Tseng”

Reno had almost chocked on his beer and sprayed it all over the table

“Tseng?!”

“Yes, just… please keep it down. It is not exactly…”

“Fuck no! Rude, that man is… He is not the sort of guy you want to be dating.”

“Reno, this isn’t something that happened last night. And I don’t need you to tell me who to date” Rude was getting defensive; he didn’t like it when his lovers were being talked about like Reno was currently talking about Tseng.

“He isn’t fucking right in the head. Why do you think I have been keeping Elena from him?”

“Reno, leave.” Rude was surprised at how calm he sounded; he had felt like yelling at Reno for once. But Reno seemed to get the point and stood up

“You are an idiot.” The redhead had simply said and taken his jacket and left.

After that Rude hadn’t felt like staying at the bar either. A far bit of the crowd was watching him; he could see what was running though their heads. His little group of friends might be accepting, so much so that sometimes he forgot that the real world still did not approve of his choice in bed partners. He had found himself outside Tseng’s door, knocking quite hard to be heard over the music playing inside. Opera voices and heavy guitar riffs, music Rude hadn’t been too fond off until Tseng had introduced him to it. Now it was one of them things he was quite fond of as it reminded him of the man.

Tseng had opened the door with a soft smile. It was still strange to see the man in jeans and a black t-shirt. For so many years Rude had seen the leader of the Turks as exactly that, their leader, and untouchable almost. Now he was allowed to see the human Tseng and it still astonished him.

“I thought you and Reno were out drinking.” Tseng spoke softly as he closed the door behind Rude.

“Yeah, we were.” When Tseng arched an eyebrow, Rude quickly added “Master.”

“Good pet. So what happened?”

Rude was only half listening to the report Reno was giving Tseng. Reno had a gift for dragging stories out and Tseng did not seem to mind. Rude suspected that was because he would receive both Reno’s and his own written report in the morning. He wasn’t sure why Tseng had even insisted on that the two needed to report, soaked through and cold as they were. But none of that was really on Rude’s mind right now. Tseng’s hand was gently tapping a wooden jewelry box. Rude hoped Reno didn’t know what it contained, or that he wouldn’t ask. Rude of course knew what it contained.

That had been last week, a few days before his talk with Reno. Rude had been sitting on the floor between Tseng’s legs, while the man was watching some movie. Rude liked this; he liked how Tseng’s hand gently pressed Rude’s head into Tseng’s thigh. This was where Rude relaxed and forgot about the job, all he focused on was being a good pet and making his Master happy. For a few hours he could push all the work related stress and feelings to the back of his head and only think about one thing. Tseng might be a strict master and demand that things were done his way But if you played by his rules he was sweet and rather loving. That had surprised Rude at first that such a stone cold killer could snuggle up at night, wrap an arm around him and whisper ‘my good pet’. Then he thought about, he guessed it could be surprising that he dropped to his knees before this man. He was after all a Turk and a rather proud one at that.

“What are you thinking about Pet?” The movie had ended while Rude had been lost in thought.

“Nothing important, sir…You”

“So I am not important now?” Rude could hear the amused tone in Tseng’s voice that let him know he wasn’t in too much trouble.

“I mean… I was thinking about us, about how this might confuse people.”

“Oh… I guess it does.” Tseng had that air about him of not being completely done with speaking, so Rude just waited. “You know, I’ve been thinking about us too. You know this.” His hand softly petted the leather collar around Rude’s neck.

“What about it, sir?” Rude felt his heart sink.

“You remember that conversation we had about having a test period to find out if we fit and all that?”

“…yes” Rude felt like swearing, Tseng was about to call this off wasn’t he. Somehow Tseng had gotten the idea that the two of them were not a good fit, and now he was going to end this. But Rude had felt like they were going so good. They liked a lot of the same things, and the things that one liked that the other one didn’t know; they had talked about and tried out.

“I really like you, Rude, and I like where this is going so…” Rude felt his heart skip at those words, Tseng liked it? Then he wasn’t going to end it? Tseng reached over to the small table by the couch and pulled out a wooden box that Rude had wondered about. It looked a lot like a jewelry box but was bigger than most jewelry boxes he had seen. “Open it, pet.” Tseng smiled as he handed the box to Rude and Rude opened the box, unsure what he might find. Inside was a simple steel collar, it had a single ring and a screw lock. It took Rude a moment to realize that this was one of the so called permanent collars and what that might mean. He glanced up at Tseng who smiled back at him.

“I would like you to be my pet, for real I mean, no more testing period.”

“Um… you mean move in here and everything?”

“If you want to. I would like to have you here, but only if you are comfortable. Also, if you are ever not comfortable with this us thing anymore, you can still tell me. Alright?”

“Yes Master.” Rude felt like he was flying high right now. This meant he was officially dating Tseng and Tseng thought they were good together too. But Tseng stopped him when Rude began to put it on.

“There is one last task before you’ve earned it, pet.”

“What do you want me to do Master?”

“I’ll tell you when it is time”

The simple fact that Tseng had the wooden box on his desk now was an indication that this might be time. Which meant the last test would be here in the office. The mere idea made Rude shift uncomfortably. Doing something in public did not appeal to him at all, and Tseng knew this. They had talked about limits right after they started dating. Rude had said that while not a hard limit, anything public was something he was extremely uncomfortable with. Tseng hand smiled and nodded.

Reno finished his rant and he turned to leave, Rude started to follow with a little smile and a nod in Tseng’s direction.

“Rude, can I have a word with you?” Both Reno and Rude froze at that. Reno glanced over his shoulder at Rude and sighed and then continued. Rude was guessing he was headed back to his apartment, Reno looked like a drowned kitten, and they were both promised the rest of the day off after this.

“Sir?” Rude turned to face Tseng. Tseng waited until Reno was out of the office and had closed the door.

“You look like you could need a shower pet”

“I feel like it too, sir”

“Why don’t you go shower in the gym shower?” The little change in tone and the raised eyebrow told Rude everything he needed to know. That was not a question.

“Maybe I should, sir.”

The warm water felt good against his cold skin and the gentle pressure managed to loosen up some of the tense muscles. Rude rubbed his neck and groaned. He would need a trip to the company masseuse one of these days.

“Enjoying yourself that much already, pet?” Tseng purred behind him.

“Sir!” Rude was shocked and terrified that someone had heard that. Then he turned and forgot all about that, Tseng looked as good as ever, if not better. The cocky smirk suited him, and the water drops running down his chest only drew Rude’s eyes to the naked skin.

“Shush now, pet, wouldn’t want to make too much noise now would we?” Tseng stepped closer.

“Damn you, sir.” That made Tseng chuckle softly, and the sound of the laughter made Rude’s knees weak. He didn’t even protest when Tseng pulled him down for a kiss.

“Good pet. Now about that test… Right here, right now.” Rude couldn’t argue, he wanted to be Tseng’s pet. But he didn’t dare to return the little caresses that Tseng now showered him in. Rude groaned when he felt a bruise form under Tseng’s lips on his neck.

For a long while they were just standing there like that, kissing under the warm water. But finally Tseng’s hands moved from around Rude’s neck.

“Knees, pet” There was no mistaking that tone, Tseng was expecting to be obeyed and that quick. Rude dropped to his knees and glanced up at Tseng.

“Want a blowjob, Master?”

“Damn right I do.” Something about giving his Master a blowjob under the warm water was quite arousing. Rude tried not to think about where they were and instead wanted to imagine them in the shower in Tseng’s apartment. But the tiles where not the same and even with his eyes closed this just felt like a bigger place.

Then there was the sound of someone walking in the door to the changing room. Rude paused for a second, trying to judge if the steps were coming towards them. Tseng caught the pause; Rude had not expected any less of the man.

“Touch yourself, pet.” Tseng muttered softly. Rude almost whined and looked up at the man with begging eyes, but he couldn’t change the fact that this exited him and he was hard. Tseng arched an eyebrow at Rude, but he wore an amused smile.  Rude made a mock sigh and went back to the blowjob.

Tseng did not allow him to finish the blowjob though before he pulled out.

“Hands and knees, pet.”

“You can’t be serious, Master.”

“Never been more serious in my life” Tseng opened the bottle of lube he had had in his hand with a pop. Rude wanted to curse at himself for not noticing that before, missing that kind of details was the stuff that got you killed, out in the field, not in the shower of course. Rude was quickly brought back to reality when slick fingers caressed his ass. He moaned softly and Tseng chuckled.

“Like that, pet?” One finger slipped inside and was quickly followed by another. Probing and stretching. Rude couldn’t answer, just moan. But that was enough, Tseng knew he liked this. After a few minutes, the fingers pulled out and Rude whimpered. Suddenly he felt very empty, but he knew what would come next. Rude could hear Tseng hum behind him, though it sounded a lot like purring. Then there was the familiar pressure of Tseng’s cock against his opening. Rude groaned and braced himself against the floor. No matter how many times they did this, the pleasure and pain still surprised him sometimes. And this time was no different. But it didn’t take long for the pain to fade and then there was just pleasure and Rude could hear himself moan loudly.

“Good pet.” Tseng chuckled behind him “Let everybody know you’re mine” That woke Rude up; he had forgotten where they were. He glanced towards the changing room, but thankfully there wasn’t anybody in there as far as he could see. Then Tseng’s movements brought him back, Tseng had wrapped a hand around Rude’s own cock and was stroking him. “I got your attention now, pet?”

“Yes Sir?”

“Yes who?”

“Yes Master.”

“That’s my pet”

Then Tseng changed the way he moved slightly and Rude gasped. There was nothing sweet or gentle about the man now. Tseng was taking him hard and rough, and the hand on Rude’s hip was gripping him possessively. Rude found that he liked this possibly even more than he liked the slow sensual making love they often did. Tseng was claiming him, letting the world know Rude belonged to him, and to his surprise Rude found that he liked it.

It wasn’t long before Rude found himself moaning and gasping and not really caring who saw or heard. Tseng’s hand around him felt so insanely good. Under the man’s skilled administrations he came with a shudder and a moan. Tseng groaned behind him and kept moving. Rude wanted to collapse on the floor, feeling completely spent, but he knew his Master wanted him to stay on his hands and knees. Though he wondered where he would find the strength to do so. Somehow he did, and a short while after Tseng came with a low growl-like groan.

Now Rude really felt like collapsing, he felt comfortably numb, but Tseng just pulled out and stood up, taking a quick rinse in the shower.

“Clean up pet, and meet me in my office in five minutes”

“Yes Master” Rude watched the man go and then cleaned himself up as best he could in the short amount of time he had.

The walk to Tseng’s office was strange. People kept glancing at him and Rude couldn’t help but blush and he never blushed. That defiantly caused more people to glance it him, and he got smirks from more than a few. Gods how loud had they been? There was no way the entire building could have heard, right? By the time he walked into Tseng’s office he almost expected someone to make a comment, but no-one did.

Tseng was sitting behind his desk, reading a report like nothing had happened. He looked up when Rude entered and smirked, then nodded to the floor beside his chair. Rude walked over and knelt, suddenly trembling slightly. He had passed the test right? This had to be good enough for Tseng. Tseng just stroked Rude’s face while he continued to read. When he finished he put the papers down and looked down at Rude.

“You did well pet.”

“Thank you Master.”

“Now, do you still want to be my pet? I will require that sort of performance on a more regular basis.”

“Um… You mean in public?”

“Yes. Not anywhere dangerous, but places where people can see.” Rude swallowed at that, he had hoped this would be a one time thing. But apparently not. He looked up at Tseng and then his heart jumped. Tseng’s face was calm, or appeared so to most people who didn’t know the man. Rude knew him, or thought he did, and there was that slight look in his eyes, a little nervousness. Rude realized Tseng was nervous about loosing him and it made him smile. The man would never admit it, Rude knew that much, but it was there.

“Yes, I want to be your pet.”

“Good” The smile on Tseng’s face was real and he reached over to the little wooden box and pulled out the collar. He placed it around Rude’s neck and began to lock it in place; the whole thing used screws to lock it in place.  “There are only two reasons why this would ever come off, alright? One is if we decide to end this, and the other is if you require some sort of medical attention where it would be a danger to you to keep it on. If that is the case then you are hereby ordered to take it off.”

“Yes Master.” Rude smiled to himself. He just had to make sure not to get wounded then. Tseng straightened back up when he had finished with the collar. Rude fixed his shirt collar, and was pleasantly surprised to find that it his steel one completely. He smiled up at Tseng and then got dragged up into a kiss.

“So, how do you feel about going to the movies later, pet?”

Title: Six Days
Fandom: Assassin’s Creed but with cameo from the Crusaders Trilogy by Jan Guillou
Warnings: Oh lord, let me see… slash to come, torture, cat o nine tails, evil evil de Sable, no fluff (hey you should know I don’t do fluff by know), more torture, humiliation, there are probably racist jokes in here too (I tried to make them make sense in the story). Slavery and once again I would like to remind everyone that this is no fluff zone. Please don’t yell at me if I go beyond your comfort zone.
Rating: Probably very high, I suck at ratings you see… NC-17?
Promt: Slavery and severe humiliation, but no rape. (I’ll leave it to you to decide if I managed it)
Feed back: yes, please

Summary: It was just a regular weekday for Altaïr, doing what he had been trained to do and trying to prove himself to Al Mualim, when he learns the hard way that maybe he was a little too cocky in trying to take on Talal’s men. What will the slaver do now that he has an assassin in his grip?

Notes: First of all this is unbeated, so if you spot anything please tell me and I will fix. Secondly when I started this I was having a real hard time beating Talal in the game and this spawned from that. It will not connect to anything that follows in the game. I have tried to keep Altaïr his lovely prideful self and de Sable’s character came mainly out of me mishearing his name the first time it was said and hearing de Sade. this is posted at slavefics and nothingtrue The title is from the song Six Days by DJ Shadows. It was what I listened to while writing. Listen to the song and see an awesome Assassin’s Creed vid right here. Yay for youtube.. and now the story

Six Days

The first thing he noticed was the pounding in the back of his head. For a moment he was grateful he was on the floor, because he certainly wouldn’t be able to stand up with his head swimming like this. Then, when he remembered where he was, he wanted to curse. It was about at this point when a boot connected with his stomach. The thugs blurred into Altaïr’s vision and he tried to push himself to his feet. His sword was knocked out of his hand and he had problems keeping his balance, but he had to fight. The assassins never gave up, you won or died trying. But he couldn’t help but to groan when a blade carved a nice deep gush over his back that would probably need stitching when he got his sorry ass back to the bureau. He had just finished that thought, it was weird sometimes how time slowed down like this, when something bashed into his skull, just as an arrow burrowed itself in his shoulder. The world went red for a moment, then black. The last thing Altaïr remembered was thinking ‘so this is how my targets feel’.

When Altaïr woke up he was stripped down to his pants, hands securely tied behind his back and his weapons was gone. There were voices around him. He could recognize Talal, the target, and there were others, and he could swear they were speaking English and not Arabic. He tried to turn and look at who it was Talal was talking too, but one of the thugs saw him move and came over with an evil grin.

“Look at this, the dog finally decided to wake up.” The thug grabbed Altaïr’s hair and pulled him up a little to face him. Altaïr groaned as the wounds on his chest reopened and started to bleed again. The thug chuckled “You don’t like that, do you dog?” Then he pulled Altaïr back further into an arch and racked his too long, in Altaïr’s opinion, nails down the assassin’s chest, making sure to dig into the wounds. The wordless howl that escaped Altaïr’s lips drew more thugs and soon he was covered in bruises and reopened wounds. His face was covered in spit and when one of the thugs pulled down his pants Altaïr wanted to cry. He hadn’t done that since the night after they cut his finger off.

It was a cold and surprisingly lonely night. Altaïr had spent many nights alone, but up until this point, not one had he spent chained to a wall in a slavers warehouse, covered in blood and piss. It wasn’t until the last guard was gone his pride decided to run and hide and he had slumped in his chains, wishing this was all a bad dream. The old beggar in the cage next to him reached over and fed Altaïr a few bread crumbs with a kind smile and a whispered “try to be strong, you’ll need it”. Altaïr wasn’t sure the words were meant as reassuring or not, but they sure as hell wasn’t right now. He knew he was doomed. If he was lucky he would be sold to a farm or a mine, simply because he was a young man able to work. Then what would he have? A few years, five at most, of hard back braking labor. Never again climb the high churches and minarets, and then the few moments of total freedom as he plunged to the ground that he loved so much. It would all be lost forever.

When the morning light came it was no comfort, with it came Talal’s thugs. Altaïr was quickly stripped naked and his hands were placed in manacles and he was chained to a ring in the floor in the middle of the large room he had been fighting in yesterday. The light even filtered in through the same opening in the ceiling. He was too busy glaring at the nearest thug to notice the bucket of ice cold water until it hit. They just laughed at the string of curses that emitted from the assassin and fetched another bucket. Soon he was shivering in the still cold morning air, the water, now pink with old blood, in a puddle around him.

“Oh look at the poor wet dog.” One of the thugs mocked “Too bad Talal got a buyer for him already. He could be fun to play with.” The thug ruffled Altaïr’s hair, much like you did a dog or a mule. Altaïr growled and snapped at the hand, hoping to bite a finger up. Instead the man just pulled his hand back and slapped Altaïr, hard. It might have been that he was cold and wet, maybe it was the embarrassment of being treated like a child or an animal, but it burned more than he could remember any slap before this one had.

Half an hour later, judging by the light on the floor, Altaïr’s cheek was still stinging. He had mostly dried of, except for his hair, but he was still cold. He felt like he could kill for a cup of steaming warm qahwa. Instead what he got was approaching footsteps. Several sets of them. He could tell more or less where they came from but thanks to the shadows on the upper walkways of the warehouse he had no idea who they were until they were closer.

“Here he is. A member of the Hashshasin. He just walked in here yesterday, bold as an eagle, begging to be taught a lesson.” Well that was clearly Talal, even if Altaïr had not recognized the voice the words gave it away.

“And you want me to do it for you?”  The French accent made Altaïr pause, he knew this voice he was sure of it, but where?

“Well, your dislike for them is well known and I hoped you would find it amusing. Please accept him as a gift, a token of friendship.”

“What? Just like that… When you could make a small fortune on him? What is wrong with him?”

“Um… Nothing….ok…He tried to bite one of the guards. And he does probably need to be constantly chained.”

“So you are giving me a useless slave.”

“Useless for most people, as I said I thought you would find training him amusing.”

“I guess I will.”

Altaïr hated the ride that followed. Gagged, blindfolded and bound he was stuck in a small wooden crate. It was uncomfortable and soon his muscles were screaming from being stuck in painful positions. Then he started to notice the heat from outside. It wasn’t so bad when you were able to move and find shade during the worst hours. Inside this crate he couldn’t exactly find shade. Nor was there anything to drink. Salty sweat stung his eyes and he began to long for the shivering cold he had experienced earlier that morning.

Much later, when he was half delirious, the crate was opened and someone dragged him out. He heard something being muttered in French before he was dropped on the dirt. He was hardly given any time to regain the breath that had been knocked out of him before a hard boot connected with his stomach. He wanted to reach up and protect his head but his hands where tied. Thankfully they didn’t seem to go for his head. Altaïr wasn’t afraid of dying; if he was he would never have survived Myslaf. Being beaten to death while bound and defenseless was not exactly a dignified way of going. He, or rather his blade, had a date with Talal’s neck that Altaïr want more than ever to keep. Within seconds darkness clouded the edges of his consciousness. The dehydration and beatings he had gotten over the last day was too much for his body to handle. It was almost a calm sigh that escaped him when he slipped into unconsciousness.

He was surprised to find himself covered by a soft blanket when he woke up. He had not expected that. Then again he hadn’t expected to wake up at all. His hands were loose but his weapons were still gone. He slowly opened his eyes, taking in his surroundings. There were three others in the small room. The young boy jumped to his feet from the stool he had been sitting when he saw that Altaïr. The younger of the two armed men by the door reached for his sword and barred a good 3 inches of the blade. The older man smiled slightly and raised his hand to stop the younger man. The man’s blue eyes and dirty blond hair caused Altaïr to pause. That was not common, not even among the English, nor was the proficiency with which he spoke Arabic. “Our orders are to kill you if you harm the boy or try to escape.” There was a slight accent to the words, but it was not a French one. Altaïr nodded slowly; there was no way he could take the two templars on, especially unarmed like this.

“I understand templar.” He had meant the name as an insult and the disgust shone through his words. The bold man merely smiled and bowed his head a little. Though it was a rather sad looking smile. The boy held a cup to his lips and spoke in a soft voice

“Don’t worry, it’s only water.”

The next time Altaïr woke, he was alone with the blond templar. But his hands were bound. He raised an eyebrow at the templar.

“You don’t trust me to keep my word?”

“Oh I do. De Sable on the other hand.” Altaïr winced at the idea of being held captive by that man. The blond templar noticed the wince and Altaïr thought he saw pity in the blue eyes. “I am sorry, assassin, but there is really nothing I can do.”

The days that followed made Altaïr wish he was dead. The beatings and whippings hurt, but it was not nearly as bad as the names. The taunting jokes and rude suggestions had him quickly avoiding soldiers when ever he could. But he would gladly spend all his days with the soldiers if it would keep him from de Sable. Within ten minutes of being near the man Altaïr had decided the man was a devil sent from hell to punish mankind. He certainly acted like it. On their first meeting the man had gagged Altaïr, bent him over his knee and giving him a spanking. Altaïr had not been spanked since he was a little boy and not even often then. The tears that had formed in Altaïr’s eyes had not been from the pain, but from the humiliation of such treatment in front of the laughing and cheering soldiers. Altaïr had blinked the tears away, refusing to let the men know their jokes and comments got to him.

Altaïr was abruptly torn from his thoughts as a hard slap flung him across the room. He had been dozing, his head resting on de Sable’s armrest. He had been kneeling on the cold floor, naked. There were fires in the braziers gave off a little heat but Altaïr still had goose bumps. The cold just made him all the more aware of the pain in his knees. A few hours earlier he had been sure nothing would feel more painful than his side. One of the soldiers had planted a steel toed boot in his side when he had caused the daily inspection of the troops to come to a halt. He had not been able to keep up with de Sable’s horse; it had been especially hard because of his tied hands. And he had stumbled and lost his footing. That had resulted in a whole new set of jokes. ‘I thought you assassin dogs were supposed to be graceful.’ Somehow hearing those words from de Sable had burned worse than the jokes and remarks normally did. Maybe it was the reminder of what he had been only a week before, or maybe it was that he had lost it so thoroughly.

But now his knees ached more than his ribs and he winced as he pushed himself of the floor to crawl back to de Sable. He cursed the need for sleep, but he was so tired. They still had him chained, but he highly doubted that it was needed by now. He didn’t think he could walk anywhere yet alone run or fight. He had not slept since the time with the blond templar. They had found some way of keeping him awake, until he felt like the walking dead. When he was over by de Sable he bowed his head slightly, he didn’t want anymore pain. He was too tired to fight, too tired not to give up.

“Oh no, you don’t.”  Fingers, Altaïr knew they were de Sables by the strong grip, wrapped around his neck. Thumb and forefinger digging into his flesh just behind his jaws. Altaïr could not help but whimper, and look up into the man’s cold eyes. “How dare you sleep without permission?” Altaïr looked away quickly, he hated himself for it but he feared what he saw in the man’s eyes. Cold hard hate and a desire to hurt. He barked some orders in French as he pushed Altaïr to his feet. The men quickly cleared the table of what had been left of the generals’ supper and one of them left the room. De Sable pushed Altaïr over the table so only his toes were touching the ground. Two of the generals grabbed Altaïr’s arms and held him down. Something as slammed down in front of Altaïr and he opened his eyes to see what it was. Then he wished he hadn’t. It was a whip made of thin leather strips with knots at the end. He lifted his eyes and saw de Sable’s cruel smile. “This won’t stop until you beg and call me Master.”

Altaïr could feel the blood trickling down his legs. His whole back side had flared in pain, gone numb and then flared again. He tasted blood in his mouth from biting his lip to keep from screaming. He had given up hiding his tears what felt like hours ago. There had been a brief break where de Sable had given the whip over to someone else and he was now watching Altaïr. Someone had gripped Altaïr hair and forced him to look up at de Sable. He wished he could just a have been looking at the table. Looking at de Sable reminded him of what the man had said. Calling de Sable master couldn’t be so bad, could it? It would stop the whipping and maybe earn him a bed. The only thing keeping from doing so was his pride, but what good was his pride doing now? He licked his lips; he had to wet them twice before any words came.

“Please make it stop, Master.” His voice sounded weaker and more pleading than he had intended, and for a moment he was afraid that de Sable hadn’t heard him. But then the man lifted a hand and the whipping stopped.

“What was that, slave?”

“Please Master, I can’t take anymore.”

“Good, good slave.” De Sable grinned and reached over and stroked Altaïr’s head.

And thus the eagle was caged.