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Entering the Floor for the first time, the noise was horrifying, especially if you didn't realize that both the lift and the lounge that overlooked this area were highly soundproofed. Novices who came on to the Floor for the very first time were always startled senseless when they first came out of the lift and heard the screams and cries of agony. But Rakesh was used to it, and had long since learned to hear the passion and pleasure beneath the pain. To others, the sounds of the Floor might be those of a torture chamber, but to Rakesh, these sounds were the sounds of home. Today, it cut through his disorientation like a knife, and helped pull him back to his center; he took three quick breaths and steadied himself even more, following Virin out of the lift and onto the Floor.
The Arena had once been just that—a sporting arena—and the Floor had been the field. It might have been any large gathering space, if not for the screams, and the vast array of torture devices that ranged from the most primitive to some technology that had been developed specifically for the Arena. There were groups of men and women in black uniforms at every station, watching, laughing, offering advice to whomever was currently working over their Collared. Some of the bystanders were attended by a White Collar of their own, and were obviously waiting their turns.
"I've some very special plans for you, Taramar," Virin called over his shoulder.
Rakesh felt a rush of excitement and started to move a little faster. He was trying to close the distance caused by Virin's longer stride when someone grabbed him from behind, and a heavy, synth-leather glove clamped down over his mouth. Startled, Rakesh tried to break free, but the black-clad arms tightened around him, and he was dragged into the shadow of one of the tall barriers that separated one station from the next.
Being pulled out of sight was enough to completely shred any traces of Discipline and send Rakesh into a mindless panic; with his wrists bound, he couldn't fight back, and his captor was taller than he—his feet barely touched the floor. This could not be happening—no one touched a Collared who was marked to another Patron! Rakesh kicked, and his heel connected hard against his captor's thigh. The man cursed, and Rakesh realized that he'd been cursing softly the entire time. Man's voice. Young sounding. Strange to Rakesh.
"Damn you, stop fighting me!" the stranger snapped. "I'm trying to warn you! Stop fighting me and listen!"
Rakesh shook his head, trying to shout around the hand still over his mouth. His collar started to pulse—Virin had noticed he was gone.
"Listen!" his captor repeated. "You're in danger. You're in grave danger. Do not leave the Arena! Do you understand me? Do not leave! You're safe here. Nowhere else. They want you...."
"Rakesh!" Virin's voice cut through the normal sounds of the Floor. "Control! Locate!"
Immediately, a bright light surrounded Rakesh and his captor as a spotlight pinpointed their location. The man cursed and pushed Rakesh away; Rakesh went flying, tumbling uncontrollably and crashing into the barrier. He lay there, gasping and shaking, hearing the commotion around him as people came running. Strong hands grabbed his shoulders, and he tensed until he recognized Virin's scent. He blinked, tossing his head to try and get his hair out of his eyes, and saw Virin looking down at him.
"Kesh?" he said softly. "Are you all right? Control, release!"
"Yes," Rakesh answered as his arms fell free. "I'm fine. He didn't hurt me. Didn't even try. I... Help me up?" He pushed his hair out of his face and took Virin's hand, letting himself be pulled to his feet.
Virin's hands lingered for a moment on Rakesh's arms. Then he straightened, and Rakesh saw Virin as he was when he was in the field—a trained killer, searching for a target. A thrill went through him, and he stepped closer to Virin.
"Who was it?" Virin demanded.
Rakesh shook his head. "I... I never saw him. He grabbed me from behind. Never saw his face. I didn't know his voice."
Virin turned, pointing at several Ishkarin. "You three, fan out, find anyone new on the Floor, or anyone who seems to be in a hurry to leave. Where is Security? I want to see the surveillance video...."
"Zaan-ti-ar, stand down," another voice broke in, and Martiri Kian-ti-os pushed through the crowd. Virin stiffened, and looked as if he were about to attack when Martiri held both hands up in front of him. "I will see to this, Virin. You see to your Taramar. He's had a bad time of it. Take care of him." He looked past Virin to Rakesh. "Taramar? Are you all right?"
Rakesh took a long breath and started to work on steadying his nerves. "Yes, Kian-ti-os. Just...shaken. I'll be fine."
Martiri nodded. "Good. Virin, take him off. I'll find who did this."
"When you do, Kian-ti-os, I want him," Virin growled.
"Of course." Martiri turned away and started barking orders. Virin hesitated for a long moment, long enough that Rakesh moved to stand at his shoulder, gently touching his arm.
"If you want to join them on the hunt, I'll be fine," he murmured. "I'll go back to the Dormitory, see the medics, spend the night in meditation."
Virin snarled and turned, grabbing Rakesh around the wrist. "You're staying with me," he snapped, tugging Rakesh with him through the crowd. Then, without warning, Virin stopped. He looked over his shoulder, then turned, and for the first time, Rakesh saw Virin hesitate.
"Kesh, I need to hurt something right now. I'm angry enough that I need to tear something apart." His voice sounded almost apologetic, and he stepped closer to Rakesh and lowered his voice, "I...would rather not hurt you. Not that way. Not in anger. And I wouldn't blame you if you didn't want me now. I should have protected you from that, and I didn't."
Rakesh stared at Virin for a moment, unable to believe what he was hearing. "Rin..." he breathed. Then he stepped forward, pulled the taller man's head down and kissed him firmly on the lips. Virin coughed in surprise, then looked startled as Rakesh knelt in front of him, his eyes never leaving the Sword's.
"I serve, Zaan-ti-ar," Rakesh said softly. "I want to be with you tonight." He lowered his eyes, closing them as he crossed his wrists behind his back and whispered, "I want you to hurt me."
There was a long moment of nothing, and Rakesh wondered if he'd misjudged himself—was this really what Virin needed? Then the bands around his wrists fused together once more, and he felt a heavy hand clenching in the hair at the back of his neck. He gasped as Virin hauled him to his feet, and when the Sword looked down at him, his eyes were hard and cold; for a moment, Rakesh felt more like prey than he ever had before in his life.
It was intoxicating, and he moaned softly and swayed towards Virin, who just smiled. He turned, never releasing Rakesh, dragging him along by the hair. Stumbling after Virin, Rakesh thought for a moment that they were heading towards the whipping frames—Virin's usual favorite for working out aggression. But Virin steered Rakesh past the racks and whipping frames, towards the more advanced equipment. When he realized where they were going, Rakesh moaned, and heard Virin laugh.
"You asked for this, Taramar," Virin growled. He waved off the attendant by the neuro-disruptor. "I'll see to him myself."
Rakesh slowed, digging in his heels as Virin started forwards; the Sword turned, stepped in close and pitched his voice low, "Kesh?" It was the closest he'd come to his normal speaking voice since they'd come out of the lift.
"I'm fine," Rakesh said. "Just... I need a moment."
Virin smiled, all arrogance and teasing cold cruelty that made Rakesh want to whimper and beg for things he wasn't even sure he wanted. "All right. Take your time. Just remember, the anticipation only makes it worse."
It took Rakesh three tries before he could run through the Code without stumbling, and a fourth time before he even caught a glimmer of the calm that he'd had once possessed. Finally, he nodded and felt Virin's hand close like a vice over the back of his neck, forcing him towards the machine.
There was a reason the neuro-disruptor was empty, even on a busy night like this one; it was a delicate machine, and required specialized training and a more subtle touch than many of the Ishkarin possessed. In all his years in a Collar, Rakesh had never been subjected to the disruptor, had only ever seen the machine in use twice, and both times, it was being operated by the Ran-ti-ar, the absolute leader of the Ishkarin. Dizzy with a heady combination of fear and lust, Rakesh allowed himself to be released, only to be imprisoned in the machine's capsule, his control bands bonding to the metal walls and the insulating mask lowering itself over his head and neck, cutting off both sight and sound. There was a moment where it felt as if everything itched, as the transmitters in the capsule synced with his nervous system. Then...nothing, for what seemed like an eternity; Rakesh licked his lips and took a long breath, blowing it out slowly and starting to recite the Code once more. As he finished the third line, he heard Virin's voice in his ears, and realized there were speakers in the mask.
Level one and building.
It started as a gentle warmth, spreading out through his limbs and making him wonder what he'd been afraid of. Warmth turned to heat, an all-over heat that made Rakesh grimace and want to try to move, even though he knew full well that the heat source wasn't external. It reminded him of falling asleep in the sun as a boy, and the resulting painful sunburns. The heat grew, becoming more painful, and he gasped and tugged on the control bands, only vaguely hearing Virin's voice:
Level two and building.
Painful heat became white-hot pain, making Rakesh moan, trying to fight the bonds, trying to pull away and get away from the burning. This was like nothing he'd ever felt before, no pain he'd ever experienced. Other pain had been localized, he'd been able to focus on it, envelope it, pass through it. This pain enveloped him, consumed him, made him feel as if his skin were about to burst into flames. As he heard Virin's voice marking the change to level three, Rakesh started to scream, only to hear mocking laughter.
You asked for it. Level four and building.
Conflagration. Virin had warned him, told him that he needed to tear something apart, and Rakesh knew that was just what was being done. He was being taken apart so completely that he might never be whole again; Rakesh shrieked until his voice and his mind both failed him, passing into a twilight state where pain meant nothing, save only to stimulate his growing lust, his achingly hard cock and his desperate need for Virin's touch. He heard Virin's voice, first through the speakers, then clearly as the mask was removed. He was aware of applause, of excited chattering all around him. Then he was being picked up, put onto a stretcher, and taken...somewhere.