Without a Net (10 page)

“Russell, do not hurt him,” Milan said, his voice as calm as ever, but Ollie went wild with thrashing. He battled his opponents silently, but the outcome was never in doubt. Eventually Ollie was pinned to the floor on his stomach, his arms stretched up over his head, and his panic button out of reach. He took several breaths and forced himself to relax. He’d lost the battle, but he hadn’t lost the war. He still had the dermal switch, and he had two backup teams watching the club. So he focused on breathing through his nose and calming himself.

“He’s quiet,” one of the men said.

“He won’t stay that way forever. Get moving,” Milan ordered.

Hands lifted Ollie, and then he was slammed onto the desk on his back hard enough to drive the air out of him. Between the rough handling and the gag, he was getting light-headed.

Fingers trailed over his cheek. “Calm down and breathe, Sunshine,” Milan said, and Ollie tensed for another fight. “Shh. Enough. You can’t win, so you have to let go of that instinct to try. Training will help, but for now, take control over your own reactions.” Milan spoke in a tone that sounded offensively close to helpful. Ollie snorted, ignoring the snot that ran out his nose. Someone wiped his face, and Milan hushed him again. The goons held Ollie’s arms over his head as Milan caressed Ollie’s chest and stomach. “Working for me is a commitment, Ollie. I will invest my time in training you, and you will learn or face punishment.”

Milan pressed down on the chain mail over Ollie’s cock, and maybe it was the drugs he’d taken earlier, and maybe it was Milan’s soothing tone, but Ollie got hard.

“Such a good boy you are. Untrained and clearly in need of discipline, but already you know your function is to get hard and squirm in discomfort for my enjoyment,” Milan said with some amusement, and Ollie blushed. His only hope now was his backup, and he prayed Kemboi was manning the vid feeds. Of course if Lieutenant Huda had pulled him and was trying to give Ollie a rough exit, that would provide the captain with the ammunition to prove the lieutenant was a dirty cop. Overall, this could end in a number of busts, and if Ollie had to suffer a little humiliation, that was a fair price. After all, he could transfer. Maybe the deep-space probes were looking for police officers.

Milan ran his hands up Ollie’s arms, and then the bastard focused on the inside of Ollie’s left elbow. Ollie couldn’t contain the small, fearful whine that escaped. “Bring it,” Milan said to someone. Ollie closed his eyes behind the blindfold and worked to control his breathing.

Footsteps warned him that someone new had come, and water covered his arm. At least he thought it was water at first. Then the burning started. He strained against the hands holding him down, but he couldn’t move an inch as his skin burned.

“You’re okay. Calm yourself,” Milan said, patting Ollie like he was a dog.

Ollie gave one last Herculean effort to pull his hands free, and then he had to admit defeat. More liquid went on his arm, and Milan dug at the dermal switch, scraping it. It felt like he was taking most of Ollie’s skin off too. The pain got more and more intense until that was all Ollie could think about. It consumed him. Focused him until he thought he was living inside that small patch of skin. Finally something pulled free.

Immediately, his arm was soaked in warm liquid, and this time the burn subsided. “It’s a neutralizer for the acid. Your arm will heal fine, my beautiful.” Milan patted Ollie’s cheek, and Ollie jerked his head away. When backup spotted these guys, Ollie was going to make sure he kicked a few of them in the balls before they were dragged off to prison.

“Is the hall clear?” Milan asked. A door opened and then closed.

“Clear.”

“Remember, people, no speaking until we get in the car. We don’t want Sunshine’s friends to hear us.”

Ollie’s blood ran cold. They knew about the internal surveillance, which meant someone on Kemboi’s team was dirty, and Ollie was betting on Jackson. That fucking hetero hater had sold him out. Well, when the captain’s team arrested these guys, Ollie would make a personal visit to his good buddy Detective Jackson.

Hands pulled him up, and Ollie didn’t fight. It wouldn’t gain him anything. They were down the hall and outside in the cool air, where someone pressed him up against the cool metal of a car. “Is the hook set?” Milan asked.

“Target acquired,” a man with an English accent answered.

“Moving to rescue their little Sunshine or holding position?” Milan asked in a voice barely louder than a whisper. Ollie realized they already knew about the captain’s team, and why the hell didn’t the captain’s team move in? They were witnessing an abduction of a fellow officer; of course they’d move in!

“Holding,” the Englishman answered.

“Excellent.” Milan petted Ollie’s side. “We’re going to have such fun.”

Ollie couldn’t breathe. For a second the panic was so intense that he absolutely couldn’t breathe. The captain was betraying him. Ollie was bait, and when a person went fishing, that never ended well for the bait.

Chapter Eight

Ollie flinched away from hands at his chin and then instantly regretted it as strong fingers caught him by the nose. He was bound and cruelly gagged, so he had no way to defend himself. However, his first instinct was still to struggle. He pushed aside the deep-set urge, because he already knew the outcome of any fight here in the car. He’d lose.

He’d learned that when the henchmen had put him stomach down on the backseat and locked him into an arm binder so tight he couldn’t move from the waist up. If Milan chose to suffocate him, Ollie couldn’t stop the man. When Ollie’s air was running out and his muscles were quivering with a need to act, Milan finally let go of his nose. Ollie dragged in cold, fresh air through his nose. He had to fight against the panic that threatened to make him hyperventilate. With the blindfold, he couldn’t even study Milan’s face and decide if this was a game or the prelude to a messy and unmercifully long death.

“Good boy,” Milan said as he ran his fingers through Ollie’s hair. “You don’t fight me, and you don’t ever flinch from my touch, understand?”

Ollie gave a quick nod. Gagged, that was all he could do. This time he was prepared for Milan’s touch at his neck, and he didn’t jerk back, although he couldn’t keep himself from tightening up. His shoulders already ached like a son of a bitch, and as he tensed up, his back flared with pain. He bit down on the gag and tried to stay silent. Milan’s fingers wandered to his shoulder and prodded a hard muscle.

“Such a stubborn animal you are. You must relax, or you will harm yourself,” Milan said, his hand skimming over Ollie’s arm.

Ollie had all sorts of sarcastic remarks ready to go in response to that, so he was probably lucky he was gagged. He would have earned a punishment more intense than a spanking if he’d been free to speak. The logical part of his brain told him to surrender. He had no control anyway, and trying to fight would be expending pointless energy. However, even with his brain agreeing with Milan’s order, Ollie couldn’t will his body to unclench. When he was this tight after a bad day at work, he’d go out running. Somehow, Ollie couldn’t see Milan pulling the car over and untying him so he could get a quick run in. A phone gave a chirp.

“If you do not relax, I shall have to find a way of distracting you before you damage yourself. I will not have you incapacitated with some annoying injury,” Milan warned as someone else answered the phone, and Ollie’s body tightened another notch. Threats were not a good relaxation technique.

“Mr. G is on the phone,” a male voice said from the opposite side of the car, and Ollie figured they were in a limousine. Ollie was on his knees in the middle of the seats. He hated not being able to see his surroundings. Not even the arm binder left him feeling as helpless as the blindfold.

“Get him some headphones,” Milan said, and then Ollie jumped as earphones playing the world’s loudest polka music dropped over his ears. Again, his nose was grabbed, and Ollie struggled against a need to move. Milan wanted him to be still, and if Ollie wanted to survive, he was going to have to internalize that lesson. His shoulders were on fire and his lungs ached before Milan let him go this time. Ollie slumped to the side, his shoulder resting against the car seat as he tried to ignore the terrible polka pounding in his ears.

A hand found his shoulder and stroked it, but Ollie tensed up more even as he tried to relax. The whole thing reminded him of when he was a child and his father told him not to worry about whether Santa Claus was coming and to go to sleep. Instead, he’d lain awake staring at the ceiling for most of the night and had been exhausted the next day. His father had half a scrapbook filled with pictures of a crying and cranky little boy, and that scrapbook came out so much more often than any other.

Ollie’s eyes grew warm as he realized he might not ever go home again. Yeah, he didn’t have an ideal relationship with his father, but he wasn’t ready to lose it yet. He wasn’t ready for his father to hear that Ollie had gone missing in a shade club, and yet he suspected his brothers in blue would say exactly that. If the captain was in on it, they’d claim there was no mission at all. Kemboi might put up a fuss, but against the lieutenant and the captain, he didn’t have a chance.

The headset was pulled off. “You must stop fighting, Ollie,” Milan said, and this time he sounded rather sharp about it. Ollie didn’t react as a hand grabbed his chin and pushed his head up. “Someone needs to learn that he will either obey, or I will find a way to force him to obey.”

Ollie felt the hands at his face, but he was surprised when Milan pulled off the blindfold. Yep, they were in a limo, and from Ollie’s spot on the floor, he could only see streetlights racing past without any identifying landmarks. Milan slapped him on the side of his face with a hairbrush.

“When you’re at my feet, you give me all overt attention. You must always notice the rest of the world, but outwardly you focus only on me,” Milan ordered as he reached over and twisted Ollie’s nipple sharply. Ollie snorted in surprise. The muscles of his back and shoulders were screaming now, and Ollie glared.

Milan raised an eyebrow and twisted Ollie’s other nipple even more sharply so the piercing pain shot through his chest. “Look at others respectfully, boy,” he warned before giving Ollie a thump on the nose that made his eyes water. Ollie truly tried to school his expression into something more respectful, but from the tilt of Milan’s head, Ollie wasn’t sure he’d succeeded.

Milan lifted his hand, and it lazily drifted toward Ollie’s cheek. Being able to see the touch coming made it worse, and Ollie couldn’t prevent himself from flinching. Once again, Milan grabbed his nose and cut off his air.

“You struggle against submitting, but you want to so much. I watched you in the club, young one. You are so in need of someone to take you in hand. So at a loss as to what to do without that,” Milan said conversationally, but Ollie’s head was spinning from the lack of oxygen. Milan let go, and Ollie sagged, his shoulder braced against the seat.

“Turn around, Ollie,” Milan ordered as he tapped Ollie’s shoulder. Ollie was caught between knowing he should obey and not wanting to. Milan reached out, and Ollie quickly turned so that his back was to the bastard. Once he turned, Milan wrapped his legs around Ollie, his boots propped painfully on Ollie’s thighs. This time Ollie avoided flinching or straining, and Milan rewarded him by stroking his shoulder.

“Control is a wonderful attribute, beautiful, but you need to develop your own control so you have a proper offering for your master. That will be your first lesson. You think you cannot relax your muscles, but they are under your control.” Milan grabbed Ollie by the back of his neck and pushed his face toward the floor near one of the henchman’s shoes. Ollie ended up cheek to the dusty limousine floor as he waited for the spanking to start.

Instead Milan unlocked the back of the mesh G-string and let the metal rope fall to the limo floor. Ollie’s cock and balls dangled free, which made him feel even more vulnerable. After pulling the plug out of Ollie’s ass, Milan clucked disapprovingly. “This is much too small for proper training.”

Ollie could sense movement, but he couldn’t see what Milan was doing until the man held an old-fashioned hairbrush low where Ollie could see it. The brush had an impossibly wide red handle and thick black bristles.

Milan ran the bristled end up Ollie’s leg. The tiny scratches sent shivers racing as Milan drew patterns over Ollie’s ass and toward the center crack. Ollie’s eyes widened as he figured out where this was going. He tried to bring his legs together, but Milan braced his boots on Ollie’s calves, pinning them in place before he brought the handle of the brush up to Ollie’s hole.

Ollie’s hole was still wet and messy from the lube Naida had used when she put in the plug. Milan pushed the handle of the brush against the ring of muscle, but Ollie still fought it, straining to try to keep it out. Instead it slid in even faster, his ass stinging as the widest part of the handle slipped inside.

“Hush now, boy,” Milan muttered as he patted Ollie on the ass with all the emotion a person might use with a stray dog. Panic made Ollie’s stomach knot as Milan turned the brush. The curved handle pressed deep inside, teasing Ollie’s prostate before Milan twisted it again, leaving him trembling.

“Ungag him,” Milan ordered, and the henchman reached down to unbuckle the gag. Ollie was almost sorry, because there was no way he could control his mouth. No one asked his opinion, though. Ollie bit his lip to keep from immediately using his whole repertoire of curse words, and he was a cop—he had more than a few.

“This brush bothers you?” Milan asked.

Ollie hated answering, but he feared Milan if he didn’t. “Yes, sir.”

“But it feels good,” Milan pointed out as he rotated the brush again. Ollie closed his eyes and tried to ignore the rush of adrenaline that made him feel like he was suffering free fall during a roller coaster—an old roller coaster where he was fairly sure it would break and send everyone flying to their deaths and he wasn’t sure when that break was going to happen. During his silence, Milan toed the underside of Ollie’s balls with his boots. “Yes, my beautiful finds this quite enjoyable,” Milan crooned.