Nikolai left Douglas curled up on his side in the bed, sleeping the sleep of the truly exhausted. He had to be, to be able to sleep at all with that massive plug inside him. Hopefully this particular training would end soon.

But he’d worry about tomorrow when it came. For now, he closed and locked the door behind him, and headed down the hall to the vault-like wall that isolated one half of the basement from the other. It wasn’t exactly convenient to have to lock and unlock this door too, but it was crucial—at least for now—that the brothers never be able to hear each other or be reminded of the other’s presence. Only one last door to get through now: the one for Mathias’s suite. He unlocked it as quietly as he could, hoping to catch the man in a natural state. He could’ve checked the video feed on his phone, of course, but where was the sense of adventure in that? Besides, he trusted his leverage over Mathias thoroughly enough not to fear for his own safety.

Mathias was on the treadmill, running flat-out, naked but for socks and sneakers and the new spandex shorts Nikolai had had delivered this morning. Sweat slicked the whole glorious expanse of his muscular body. He didn’t seem to have heard Nikolai enter—no surprise between the whir of the treadmill, the pounding of his shoes on the conveyor belt, and the loud but even rasping of air in and out of his powerful lungs. A stunning sight indeed. Hypnotic, almost. Nikolai leaned against the doorframe and simply enjoyed it for a moment.

Such power. And soon, Nikolai would have it entirely under his control. His pet warrior. His champion. Hmm, maybe not. More like a dancing bear, beaten and kept in chains.

His moment of quiet observation abruptly ended when Mat caught sight of him in his peripheral vision and startled so hard he nearly flew off the end of the treadmill. Instead, he half tripped onto steady ground, rounding on Nikolai with a facial expression and body language that spoke of barely reined-in fury.

You made me beg you to fuck my ass, you fucking monster, that expression screamed. But out loud, Mathias only said—well, spat, “I was going for time on a half-marathon. What do you want?”

Nikolai could play this game too, saying one thing and meaning another. He raised an eyebrow that admonished—I don’t respond to that tone of voice—and asked, “How far did you go?”

Mathias glared hard at him for another long moment, then walked over to shut off the treadmill and peer at the display. He grabbed the towel he’d slung over the handlebars and wiped at his face with it, sucking down air like a man who’d pushed himself far too hard. “Eleven miles in fifty-two minutes. That fast enough to get away from this place, you think?”

“It doesn’t matter how fast you run, Mathias. We’d find you. Assuming, of course, you were even capable of leaving the building. And then what? What about Douglas? Would you leave him behind?”

Mathias bristled, fists balled at his sides. “He can keep up. Has since he was nine. Used to follow me on my morning run every day like a lost puppy.”

Mathias went silent then, looking the sort of confused Nikolai had grown very familiar with over the years: that wounded, wondering expression that screamed, Why did I just tell him that?

No matter how stubborn his charges were, they all wore that expression at one point or another.

“Even if you could both run, you realize there are . . . fail-safes in place for such a possibility, don’t you?” By Mathias’s expression, no, he didn’t. He really had no idea how big this operation was, the fool. Too self-centered to understand he was just one tiny piece of a huge puzzle. “Do you really think this organization could run as long and as secretly as it has if anyone was allowed to go free? Personally, I’ve never lost a slave, but I know of other trainers and owners who’ve been careless enough to. Remember the men who first captured you? They’re the lowest on our totem pole. Slightly above them—though far below those such as myself or Madame, of course—you’ll find a different breed of procurer. Bounty hunters, smart enough to outthink any slave. You’re valuable, you understand: The hours I put into you. The money your owner paid for you. The information you have, as worthless as it is in the grand scheme of things. These men are trained. Smart. If you escape, they will find you, and you won’t like how you’re treated when you’re brought back to the fold.”

Mathias balled up his sweat-damp towel and threw it at Nikolai. “I don’t like how I’m treated now.” Then he turned and took two steps toward the bathroom, clearly intending to snub Nikolai by way of getting himself a drink.

But Nikolai had other plans. He sprung forward, clotheslining Mathias’s throat with the towel and yanking him back. Mathias fought for half a second before he forced himself still, hands balling into trembling fists at his sides when Nikolai twisted the towel tightly enough to warn, but not to choke.

“On your knees, boy,” Nikolai snapped, “and don’t you ever throw things at your betters again.” He wrenched on the towel, pulling down until Mathias crashed to his knees, hands now clutching the material at his throat. “Are you no better than a child, then, to throw a tantrum when things don’t go your way? Should I punish you like one? Perhaps I didn’t hit you hard enough yesterday. Shall we revisit the matter?”

“Fuck you, prick,” Mathias rasped. Nikolai had expected rebound, backlash after the large concession yesterday—Mathias had built up too much disgust, self-hatred, and impotent fury for the moment of breaking to stick—but this was stronger than he’d anticipated, even for a fighter like Mathias. Perhaps such drastic reactions called for the same in turn.

Nikolai released the towel and slapped him. “I asked you a question, boy. I expect an answer. A proper one.”

Mathias bared his teeth like the dangerous animal he was. “Go ahead, beat my ass. But if you wanna fuck it, you’ll have to force me. I’m not falling for your bullshit mindfucks again.”

“No, you’re not going to fall for one. You’re going to help me create one.”

“What? No, I’m fucking not. Fuck you.”

“Yes, you are. Now, stay. Can you do that? Or do I need to restrain you? Answer me honestly.”

Something in his tone must have broken through Mathias’s shield of fury, because he actually went silent for a moment, eyes angling up, clearly considering the question. “You gonna hurt me?” he finally asked. No fear in that question. Plenty of belligerence, though.

“Do you need me to hurt you today, Mathias? Is that what this is about?”

“Fuck you. Go do what you have to do. I won’t move. Don’t need to tie me down. Fucker.”

Well. This was a substantial backslide. Nikolai would have to react swiftly and decisively to nip this in the bud. He knew just the thing.

“You must be thirsty after your run,” he said, opening a cupboard door and finding what he was looking for immediately.

“Yeah. I was trying to get a drink before you tried to strangle me to death with my own fucking towel.”

“Oh, my boy,” Nikolai chuckled, picking up a wicked spider gag, “you’re much too expensive to kill. I’m afraid that’s just one more method of escape you can chalk up to the impossible.”

“We’ll see about that, you smug fuck.”

“Hmm. Interesting choice of word, ‘smug.’ An excessive amount of pride in one’s achievements, isn’t it? Well, my pride is certainly not excessive. I am a master of men, after all.” He crouched, and true to his word, Mathias didn’t move, not even when Nikolai stretched his mouth open, wedged the prongs of the gag past his teeth, and buckled the strap behind his head. “You, on the other hand, are awfully self-important for someone who can just as easily be a human toilet as a prize fighter, you understand?”

Realization dawned in Mathias’s blue eyes, which widened almost as much as his brother’s were naturally. Fear. Yes, much better. He scrabbled for the gag, fingers finding the buckle, trying to undo it, so distracted he didn’t notice Nikolai’s heel driving toward his groin until it was too late.

Mathias cried out and crumpled to the floor.

Nikolai crouched beside him and grabbed him by the hair, yanking his head until they were face to face, even though Mathias was in too much pain to make eye contact. “What part of hold still do you not understand? Did I say you could touch the gag? Do you think I put it on just so you could take it off a moment later? I feel as if we’ve regressed dramatically, Mathias. Do I need to keep you shackled 24/7? Break your hands?” He swiped at the drool already leaking from Mathias’s lower lip and smeared it across the man’s cheek. “Should I lock this on permanently? I do love to fuck a man’s mouth when he’s wearing one of these. But that’s not what I have planned for you today.”

Mathias made a groaning animal sound.

“What was that? ‘Please piss in my mouth, master?’ Very well.” He pulled Mathias upright by the hair. “Do. Not. Move.”

Not trusting his fighter to obey, he kept hold of Mathias’s head with one hand and undid his fly and pulled out his cock with the other.

“I’m sick of your pride, Mathias. I’m sick of this tug-of-war with you. Perhaps I can’t teach you your place with pain. Maybe not even with kindness. But you will learn. Now swallow. Spit this out or vomit it up and you’ll regret it sorely. Oh yes, I mean the serum. I think going a few days without it has left you a little cocky. Maybe you need a nice long reminder.”

That wide-eyed fear returned, powerful enough to eclipse the hatred and the sneering derision. Nikolai wasn’t certain, but he thought perhaps Mathias would’ve opened his mouth of his own free will if the spider gag weren’t already doing the job so cruelly. Good to see at least some fears remained stark and fresh in the man’s mind.

Before said fear could fade, he guided his flaccid cock between Mathias’s spit-soaked lips, just enough to keep himself in place. He wanted to make sure his urine hit Mathias’s tongue, rather than run straight down the back of his throat. He wanted Mathias to taste it. The urge to flood him was strong, but it was so very hard to swallow when you couldn’t close your mouth, not to mention the disgust factor—best to control himself, urinate as slowly as possible. Besides, that would prolong Mathias’s misery. So he relaxed his muscles just enough, let the first of it out in a dribbling stream.

Mathias lurched back with a shout the moment it struck his tongue.

Nikolai tightened his grip on Mathias’s hair. “Hold still. Hold still, or you really will get the injection, and I’ll piss in your mouth while you’re writhing in agony on the floor. I can’t say my aim will be very good then, however.”

Mathias stopped squirming. Glowered up at Nikolai with pure hatred in his eyes. The muscles in his jaw flexed. Fighting the gag.

“Would you really risk biting me, Mathias? What if the gag slips?” Fresh fear again, this time for his brother. He squeezed his eyes closed, seemed to force his jaw still by sheer force of will. “The best you can do is relax and let it happen. Take it like the hole you are right now.”

Once Mathias stopped fighting, Nikolai relaxed and simply enjoyed the sight of the defiant boy’s throat swallowing piss. Of piss dribbling over his lips, down his chin. Nikolai finished off. Zipped up.

He tilted Mathias’s head back and completed the man’s humiliation by spitting down into that open mouth. Mathias’s stomach heaved, eyes and jaw clenching momentarily. Fighting to keep it down. “This is what you are now,” Nikolai told him, very calmly so Mathias would have no doubt he believed his own words, that none of this was bluster. “I own you. Every time you want to fight me, or think you can fight me? I want you to remember the sensation of my piss running down your throat. The taste of my piss. The feeling of having a belly full of it.” A choking noise at that, another hard tensing of those beautiful abdominals. “That is what you are now. That is all you are.” And yes, there it was, a lovely tear streaking down one cheek, a wetness caught in his eyelashes. “Now, are you going to accept your place, or will I have to make you eat shit, as well?”

Mathias shook his head vehemently, eyes wide, pupils dilating. He fisted Nikolai’s pants legs in both hands—not violent, just desperate. “Nnnnn,” he managed through the gag, still shaking his head, and then a sort of “clhhh, ghhh!” that Nikolai was fairly certain had begun life as Please, don’t.

Just as well, because that was one threat Nikolai did not savor the thought of following through on. He did in fact enjoy kissing his slaves on occasion, and there were some things even a thorough wash couldn’t really clean away.

“Good. Now that that’s settled, I believe it’s time for us to discuss your brother’s future like adults.” He unbuckled the gag, then unbuckled his own pants again, pushed them down and stepped out of them, and splayed himself on Mathias’s bed. “You can lick my balls and ass while you listen. I’d have you suck my cock, but your brother just did such a fine job I’m afraid I’ve no interest yet.”

That was what made Mathias gag, after everything he’d gone through. He rose to his feet, gasping and heaving, wiping at drool and piss with the back of one hand and pressing the other to his stomach. Murder glinted in his eyes, clear as day, but Nikolai had rarely felt safer around the man than he did right now. Even with his mouth free, he didn’t speak. Didn’t dare.

“Don’t like to hear about me fucking your brother?” Nikolai asked, unable to keep the taunting tone out of his voice as Mathias dutifully knelt between his legs and nuzzled behind his balls, kissing and lapping at them with his newly humbled tongue. “You should see him. Unlike you, he’s progressing wonderfully. I’m training his ass to take two cocks at once.” Mathias’s tongue paused its stroking, and his breath, hot and moist, came hard and fast against Nikolai’s balls. “I think within the week I’ll be able to put him to the test in that regard. Did I say you could stop?”

The licking started up again. So did Nikolai’s speech. “He’s a very quick study, your brother. A true joy to train . . . except for one thing: you. Enough with my balls; be a good boy now and lick my anus.” He felt Mathias’s shudder against his thighs, but the man did as told, bending Nikolai’s legs at the knees and ducking low to rim him.

Nikolai allowed himself a single appreciative moan before continuing. He was starting to get hard again. “You see, Douglas holds onto the thought of you desperately. Wants to impress you. Imitates your stubbornness, even if it causes him terrible pain. And his suicidal need not to disappoint you is causing him so very much pain. I’ve come to realize he must find a way to give you up, or he will die holding onto your memory. Do you want him to die, Mathias?”

“Of course not,” Mathias growled against his ass. Nikolai felt a flash of teeth—not biting, just bared—and then tongue again, like a good little slave.

“Then you must help him to let go of you.”

Mat leaned up on his forearms, met Nikolai’s eyes. “Not gonna happen. Remember the running thing? He started that when he was five and he never fucking stopped. Six miles every goddamn morning at the crack of fucking dawn. I don’t even think he likes running. But he’d do anything to stay with me. Spend time with me. Make me happy. Make me love him, even though he doesn’t need to do anything for that at all.” His eyes welled up with tears at that, but he blinked them away, went back to lapping Nikolai’s ass. Anything to avoid this conversation, apparently.

Left unsaid was, And I’ll do anything to protect him, spend time with him, make him happy, make him love me, though Nikolai heard it anyway.

Nikolai gave his hardening cock a lazy stroke. “He idolizes you.” A statement, not a question.

“Yeah.” So much emotion in that one little word, despite his clear determination to hide it.

“Then you must, as always, be the protector, Mathias. Be the stronger man. Be the one who makes the hard choices.”

“And if I do? If I drive him away some-fucking-how?”

“All the unnecessary pain in his life stops. Nearly instantly. He won’t be free, but he won’t need to be. I’ll take care of him. Keep him warm and fed and loved. He’ll want for nothing. He’ll never hurt again.”

“Bullshit. Everything hurts here. How can it not?”

“Because love can grow even in the most unlikely places, Mathias. But his love for you strangles all others.”

“His love for me. That’s what’s keeping him from being a good little slave for you, isn’t it. You just want a fucktoy, and he—” Mathias blinked back those stubborn tears in his eyes. “I’m all he has to live for. To stay human for.”

“All he has to suffer for,” Nikolai corrected. “It won’t end, Mathias. It will never end. There’s no escaping this place. No going back to his old life. All he can do is move forward with his new one. Make the best of it. He could be happy, Mathias. He could have what you never can; he could be shaped into a man like Roger, madly in love, happy to serve. Loved back. Respected. Appreciated. I would see to it. Or he can hold onto the idea of you, the mirage of you, and resist and struggle and fight until it kills him by torturous inches. There is no third choice. I know you wish there were, but wishing is a fool’s game, and you’re no fool.”

Mathias had no reply to that. Just the sounds of his mouth and tongue, his breath rasping through his nose. Stalling. Nikolai didn’t mind, though, because the sensation of being tongue-fucked by his tightly reined feral slave was positively beyond compare.

At last, Mathias pulled back, every line of his body crying his defeat. His face was stamped with tragedy, loss—a man in mourning. He spoke softly. “What do I have to do, then?”

What do I have to do to save my brother in the only way I have left?

Nikolai smiled, victory pulsating through every artery and vein. In these tiny moments, however brief, he was a god.

He pushed Mathias’s face back between his thighs—his fighter took the hint perfectly well and began to lick and suck him again—and said, “I’ve arranged a meeting for you both with a ‘client.’ He’s actually a colleague of mine with a very specific fetish I sometimes indulge. You’ll both be prepared to meet him. In private, without me, in a room with no windows or cameras or guards. When you do, he’ll take an interest in your brother, as any man would. He won’t be gentle. In fact, he’ll be cruel even by my standards. Barbaric. Sadistic. Between you and me, he’s an absolute monster, but you will let him have his way with your broth—”

“What?” This time Mathias did more than just rear back; he sat up, practically loomed right over Nikolai. “You think I’m just gonna si—”

Nikolai smacked the rest of that sentence right from Mathias’s mouth, then shoved the man’s head back to his ass. Mathias knew better than to interrupt again, though Nikolai had to shake him by his too-short hair before he remembered to start servicing his master again.

“You will sit there, yes, while your brother endures my colleague’s brutality. And the whole time, your brother’s eyes will be on you, watching you, unable to wrap his mind around why you won’t make his pain stop. He’ll beg you to save him, and it will be within your power to save him, but you won’t.”

“What the fuck makes you think I’d go along with that?” Mathias growled against Nikolai’s balls.

“Because, Mathias, however painful his time in that room is, it will be over quickly. Just long enough for him to lose his idolatry of his hero brother. And I promise you, he’ll crack quickly. Just a few minutes of pain. But if you disobey me? If you interfere with my plan in any way? I’ll need resort to so much more than just a few minutes of pain, more than these necessary deceptions.” He paused, letting that word soak in. Pain. And oh, yes, Mathias had caught on, but that didn’t mean Nikolai couldn’t still elaborate and make the threat clear. “I’ll have no choice but to use the serum, Mathias. For as long as it takes. Twelve straight hours didn’t break you. How long will your brother last, do you think?”

Mathias’s tongue stilled; Nikolai felt the hardness of bared teeth pressed against his perineum, the too-fast flutter of eyelashes against one thigh. But the man remained stubbornly silent.

“So tell me which is better, Mathias: a few minutes of pain, easily ended, or several days, drawn out even longer by his continued need to impress you? And don’t think I won’t tell him tales of how well you withstood the serum’s assault. I may exaggerate somewhat. You won’t be there to contradict me, after all.”

Mathias raised his head again, bright blue eyes narrowing, cunning replacing fear. “You wouldn’t. You love him—well, you feel your sick fucking version of love for him. You wouldn’t hurt him that way. I’m trash. He’s your prize fucking pet.”

“I’ll do what I must to achieve the results I require. And the end result will be the same no matter what. Dead, or my obedient slave. What I must resort to in order to reach that point . . . that’s up to you. Now, as much as I’m enjoying this conversation, we’ve reached the point where it either ends in ‘yes, sir’ or ‘no, sir,’ and I’d like to come now. Sit on my cock while you think over your answer.”

Mathias stood, wiping the spit from his lips and chin. Yanked down his tight shorts. Spat into his hand to lubricate himself at least somewhat. There was no fear in him. No hesitance at all. Just begrudging resignation and pure single-minded gumption. The mind of a champion, truly.

He straddled Nikolai, hard gaze locked on Nikolai’s own the whole time, and lowered himself perfunctorily onto Nikolai’s cock. He wasn’t as tight as his brother—it seemed he knew how to relax those muscles by choice—but then, he didn’t need to be. He was good enough for a rough dry fuck, and while Nikolai was far from a sadist, the pain evident in Mathias’s rigid posture only made it sweeter for knowing he was giving it willingly, suffering it willingly.

“Promise never to hurt him. Promise never to use that serum on him, ever,” Mathias growled out between pants and little unbidden grunts. He bounced on Nikolai’s cock relentlessly, athletic thighs working, body a perfectly tuned instrument in every single way.

“I don’t make promises to ill-trained slaves, Mathias. But I will see your brother cared for, and cherished, and loved, and one day he’ll be as happy as Roger is now.”

“F-fine,” Mathias replied, milking Nikolai’s cock with his inner muscles, no doubt hoping to speed things along. Appalling behavior, but Nikolai was willing to put off that discussion in favor of the current one. “Deal,” Mathias said. “I’ll do it. Just please don’t . . .” He closed his eyes, dropped his chin to his chest. “Please don’t make me have to see him again after that. I don’t think I could stand it.”

Nikolai was getting close. He planted his feet on the bed, grabbed hold of Mathias’s waist, and jerked his hips up in time to meet Mathias’s thrusts, impaling the stubborn man on his cock. “I told you,” he said, “I don’t make promises to ill-trained slaves. You’ll stand whatever you need to stand, just like you always have.”

“Sir,” Mathias acknowledged, stoic in his defeat, and Nikolai pumped him full of cum to seal their pact.