Consciousness came back slowly. The first thing Logan felt was a soft coolness under his body. Exotic scents drifted from Indian censers, filling the room and Logan’s mind. He was lying on his back, his hands over his head. Someone’s presence could be felt in the air.

Logan opened his eyes slightly, and was shocked at how the drug had sharpened his senses. The scents were already too intense, yet the colors of the dim room seemed even brighter, creating the illusion of it all being merely a nightmare; not the real world.

He was lying on black silky sheets, completely naked with his hands tied to the bed-posts with what felt like leather straps. ~The patrician’s crazy~ Wolverine thought ~I could tear ‘em easily~

But he couldn’t. It looked like the drug had not only fucked with his synapses, but also affected his strength. He couldn’t tear the straps, he could barely move. His whole body felt like it wasn’t his own, like he was moving it by remote control.

The young patrician was sitting beside him, the 7 feet square bed leaving him more than enough space. Also naked, he was sitting on his knees with his feet shifted to the side; his pale hands on black silky sheets, and his head slightly to the side. The waterfall of auburn hair flowed past his shoulders.

He looked marvelous, lean and exotic in the threatening darkness of the room filled with heavy aromas. His skin was pale against the dark surrounding, lit by three of four candles only.

Remy observed the helpless captive for some time, then leaned forward, his hair brushing against Logan’s chest. That was when Wolverine realized how sensitive his skin had become. He groaned at the slightest touch, feeling it like someone had grazed sand-paper across his chest.

LeBeau chuckled and spoke to his slave, venturing forward, so there were only inches between them. “Have y’ ever surrendered, Wolverine?”

His hair fell on both sides of his face, putting it in deep shadows, and Logan could see his irises were glowing crimson.

“Remy never seen y’ t’ give up on de arena before” he bent down and licked Wolverine’s lips. Logan drew back from the touch, as it seemed to burn him.

He closed his eyes, not sure if it was all really happening, or if it was a dream. ~It’s a dream, Logan. Things like this can’t happen fer real.~

Meanwhile, slim fingers cupped his cheek, and his head jerked to the side, against the dark silk of the sheets, that felt blissfully cool and bearable. The fingers however followed his cheek and stroked it carefully, making Wolverine grit his teeth and growl.

“Surrender t’ me, mon chiot.” The kid whispered, and his voice sounded like it had been spoken inside of Logan’s mind. “Look at yourself. Y’re not’ing. Jus’ another one o’ hundreds.”

His fingers moved over the dark broad chest, and Wolverine forced himself not to squirm.

“Hundreds jus’ like you come an’ go. Like dust, and y’ ain’ worth more dan dat.”

His hand moved down Logan’s side, scraping it with nails a bit too long for those of a man. This time the groan wasn’t held back – it couldn’t be.

“I’m able t’ buy y’. I’m able t’ sell y’. I’m able t’ fuck y’ an’ no one would say a word. I’m able t’ kill y’, an’ no tear drops would fall on y’r grave; if y’ even ‘ad one. Your life is cheap, homme.”

Cruel fingers finally found his nipple and rolled it between the index finger and thumb. Pain mixed with sharp pleasure, both jolting through the body and striking the brain. Logan screamed.

“Y’r life is cheap.” The young man went on, his words weirdly clear even through the sharp sensations. “So all y’ can do, mon chien…” he leaned closer, his lips almost touching Logan’s. “…is t’ surrender. T’ call me y’r Master and be fait’ful t’ me till de end of y’r worthless life… ‘cos I will be de only t’ing in y’r life…” he shifted down to Wolverine’s chest “…y’r pain…” sharp teeth bit into the nipple, and Logan yelled in spite of himself desperate to hold back “…an’ y’r pleasure…” the tongue licked the abused nipple, and Logan wiggled under the slim frame of his master.

~Hateful, hateful betrayal of my body~ he thought in desperation. His body, the one that had saved him on the arena numerous times, was now shamelessly giving into whatever ministrations the erotic and cruel young man was providing.

The auburn waterfall shimmered, as the kid’s head shifted back to Logan’s face.

“Call me y’r Master, mon chien. Swear t’ be mine and mine only.”

Logan pulled his head up from lying on the side, to face Remy. All his pride railed against the demand, and boiling anger rushed through his veins. ~My body betrayed me, okay. But at least I won’t let my mind do the same!~

Hoarse words escaped his lips.

“Ain’t gonna say that shit, kiddo. I’d sooner die.” The words sounded harsh in the dead silence, but the tunes unmistakably showed Logan meant just what he said.

The kid’s face changed, the cruel sparks so visible now only the blind wouldn’t see them.

“That can be arranged!” he hissed, raking his nails down the man’s chest hard, pleased to hear another scream. He talked no more, just acted. He knew the man wouldn’t last for long, his skin was too sensitive now.

The small dose of the drug Remy received with the wine sharpened his tactile sense somewhat too, and he could feel the taught muscles quivering under his touch, energy boiling in the huge frame beneath his own. The man was strong, a powerful engine of destruction. ~Dat’s ‘ow Cerberus would ‘ave looked, if he’d had de human face~ LeBeau thought, and a hot wave rose from inside him at the thought of the deadly creature being completely at his mercy.

He shifted lower, and explored those muscular thighs, grasping and scratching them, testing just how much the man could handle.

For Logan the question was answered already – he could handle no more. Gladiator or not, the kid was just too experienced in torturing in this weird way, so he was close to actually calling himself a ‘chien’, of whatever the kid had called him before. The loss of his dignity bothered him no more, and all he wanted was to stop this all.

“Okay, okay!” he screamed out, and the kid ceased his scratching, allowing Logan to speak.

“Okay, I’m yer chien, or whatever ya said, I’m yer slave for eternity!” ~Just stop it!~

Remy looked at the man. His face was still contorted with pain, yet he differed from the other slaves that had took this place before. His features carried no plea, no surrender, just a stop-it-all-already! statement. That was not what LeBeau wanted, not at all…

“Say it like y’ mean it.” he hissed.

Their eyes locked for a long moment, and Remy was ready to hear the words he craved for.

His slave’s words didn’t match it though.

“Who do ya think ya are?” Logan hissed under his breath, but it still sounded too loud for his ears. “Think humiliatin’ others will make ya high? Think pushin’ others down into dirt will make ya look nice and clean?” He would have spat at the kid, yet he lacked the saliva in his mouth to do so, so he went on. “Ya may as well go fuck yerself with that sick crap ya crave ta hear.”

The moment Logan dropped into silence, an ugly thought came to him. ~So, ya showed how full of pride ya are – so what? Is that worth yer life? Yer health? Huh?!~ But he had done what he had done, and there was no turning back. ~I said what I had to say~ he answered the tiny voice.

Remy’s delicate features turned into grimace of rage. Logan’s head was snapped back by his hair, and Remy hissed to him. “Y’r going t’ wish you never said dat!” Not letting go of rich black hair, he trailed a path of bloody bites along the man’s collar-bone. The small wounds healed almost immediately.

LeBeau went on, moving down his disobedient slave’s chest, thoroughly marking it with scratches and bites, his breath getting ragged, himself getting aroused from the effect he had on the powerful man underneath him. He was in control, he was the one to decide.

“Y’r gonna… regret it… soon… mon chiot…” he breathed out harshly.

Logan wasn’t quite listening, all his will was thrown against the pain the young man threw him into. As if his body was dissolving in acid, and being put on fire at the same time. His pupils were dilated, and his whole body was shivering in the last attempts to fight the pain.

That was when the tormentor reached to the most sensitive part of the man’s body. Getting a firm hold of the limp cock, he gave it a hard pump. Wolverine’s body didn’t manage to accommodate to intense pleasure immediately after pain, and a deep howl followed.

The kid’s fingers appeared to be more skillful then he ever thought human ones could be. In several strokes they managed to get his shaft into erection, and Logan’s fogged mind was trying to comprehend why the cruel young man was doing it, and what bad things were to follow.

The slim hand reached out, Logan couldn’t quite see to where, and returned with a black leather strap. The other hand stopped its stroking, leaving the painfully hard cock abandoned. Wolverine squinted his eyes to see what was going on down at his crotch, when a jolt of pain seared through him.

Remy tightened a strap around the base of the huge shaft, and gave it several more strokes. Then he shifted his legs, placing a knee between his slave’s thrashing legs. Circling his balls briefly with a fingertip, he moved it to man’s opening and pushed inside in one single stroke.

Wolverine would have jumped off the bed, if he wasn’t tied and held down by the young man. The sharp burning spread all over his lower abdomen, erupting a growl from his throat with every breath. The growls became louder when another finger was added, then another one.

He remembered how it was – always ugly and painful, yet this time it was worse. The drug that made his skin over-sensitive, did the same with his innards, and now every finger stroke felt like the burning rod.

Remy’s movements deepened and became harder, as he took in the sight of the powerful man whirling underneath him in futile attempts to escape the invasion. By the statement on his face his fogged mind had already realized what it was all about. And what was yet to come scared him, LeBeau could feel it.

And it was even more arousing.

Getting himself closer to the entrance, he pulled out his fingers and pushed the man’s legs further apart to have better access. He could feel the over-tense frame shivering underneath him, Logan’s face turned to the side, teeth gritted and eyebrows knotted together in the last attempts not to give into fear.

“Been dis way before?” Remy questioned tauntingly, leaning forwards. A growl escaped Logan’s throat. ~C’mon, surrender now!~ LeBeau yelled mentally, yet no word escaped the slave’s throat.

~Y’ wan’ it – y’ll get it~ Remy thought furiously and rammed in with one single thrust, burying himself to the hilt. The body under him arched, and a small crimson trace slid down the chin from the bitten through lip.

The man was pleasingly tight, tighter than he had imagined, and a half-smile slid across his lips. ~Y’ll get hard, mon chien, just de way y’ deserve~ he moved out almost slowly, then thrust in again, fast and hard. The body arched again, and a moan followed. ~Mais oui, time t’ quit playin’ though man, mon chiot. Scream like never before.~

But he didn’t. The body shivered, blood covered the multi-bitten lips, the breath was harsh and shallow, but for some damn reason the slave refused to make a sound other than small growls and hisses.

Furiously, LeBeau thrust in and out of the tight hotness, until he came. For some time he laid there, buried in the strong muscled body, his hand still tangled into black hair, almost yanking it out. As the after-glow had subsided, he slid out of the man and shifted up to look at his face.

“Like dat, mon chien?”

No answer came. Remy slapped the man, and his head lolled to the side, mouth slightly agape, eyes closed. Logan was unconscious.