#ze'ev

Nolopoldo practically feels his heart stop when the couch does. He looks towards the door, past Ze’ev’s head, with horror, and Ze’ev leans in, crowding his personal space even further to whisper in his ear.

“If you play along with this part, I’ll see what I can do about making sure your next client doesn’t break you too badly.”

Nolopoldo nods mutely, with tears in his eyes and trying not to think about the word next, and Ze’ev wraps a finger around the D ring attached to the collar, using it to pull Nolopoldo forward ever so slightly. Nolopoldo lets Ze’ev move him, practically as pliable as a doll, and Ze’ev leans in to kiss the tears out of the corner of his eyes.

“Please,” Nolopoldo says, and Ze’ev lets go as the coachman opens the door. He gets out, and waits for Nolopoldo. Nolopoldo wants to get up to follow the monster, expects himself to, but he feels frozen. Stuck to the seat, as Ze’ev looks at him expectantly. He can’t.

A man exits the building they’ve pulled up in front of to stand by Ze’ev. He’s big and burly by human standards, not too different from the guards at the auction house but dressed much nicer. The two men look similar, something about their faces. Most of the humans kind of look the same to Nolopoldo, but this is downright uncanny. Related? “Do you need me to grab it?”

It?

“No,” Ze’ev says. “This one’s good. Give it a second.”

The words jar Nolopoldo out of his frozen state, and he’s able to force himself up. He steps on already unstable feet towards the door, and he once again resents the chains around his wrists. That’s even before he stumbles and crashes off the step, into a heap at Ze’ev’s feet. If he’d been slightly less out of it, maybe he’d have been able to stop himself from falling even with his messed up leg and at the uncomfortable angle and his wrists cuffed, but as is -

He only realizes it’s happened once he looks up and sees Ze’ev’s standing over him. Then the pain in his leg hits all over again and he’s realized he’s crying out, trying to twist his position to be able to grab at the injury.

“What’s wrong with it?” the other man asks.

“Sarah said its leg was injured during the capture, and it hasn’t been treated,” Ze’ev says. “I was thinking of leaving it like that. It’s a fun gimmick, isn’t it? Elf with a limp?”

“N-no,” Nolopoldo stutters, trying to figure out a way to get to his feet but all he can manage is a kneeling position. “Please don’t—“

“Or I could even break it further,” Ze’ev muses. Then he looks down, as if only now registering Nolopoldo’s there. “Get up.”

“I can’t,” Nolopoldo says. “It hurts.”

Ze’ev reaches down and grabs Nolopoldo’s arm, dragging him to his feet. Nolopoldo has no choice but to lean into Ze’ev for support, and he gasps, the pain in his leg hot. Ze’ev is practically holding him. Nolopoldo tries to twist away, tries to stand under his own power as much as he can, but Ze’ev holds him tight.

Nolopoldo can’t breathe, all he can feel is Ze’ev’s heartbeat against his chest. Or maybe that’s just the sound of his own blood pounding.

“Please,” he whimpers. “Don’t.”

“If you’re good tonight, I’ll consider letting you use crutches,” Ze’ev says. “But we’re wasting time. Velvel, prep it.”

“Do you have anyone particular in mind?” the other man — Velvel - asks.

“Admon.” 

Velvel tilts his head.

“I haven’t seen him around in months.”

“Yeah, he said Ninquefindil was too broken for him to want to play with anymore, so he wouldn’t be back until we had anyone newer. But I let him know when I heard word of some fresh meat from Sarah.”

“Guess I don’t need to do anything fancy, then.”

“Yeah, just wash the journey off it and bring it to the suite. It smells like shit.” 

Nolopoldo flushes, as if it’s his fault he’s been unable to wash for weeks. He focuses on the insult, so he doesn’t have to parse the rest of the sentence.

It catches him off guard when Ze’ev shoves him towards Velvel, who grabs Nolopoldo’s arm on the weak side. Nolopoldo leans into the support, because he needs it, even as every instinct screams at him to try to tear away from Velvel. He lets the man lead him into the brothel, a mostly nondescript building not too far from the river, doing his best to sink further into that comfortable nothingness even as his entire body trembles with fear.

Fortunately, there are only a few stairs up to the door, and Velvel helps him with them. Their destination is on the first story, out of three — a large bathroom, with a tub in the center. Already full of water. He twists, trying to pull away from the grip as he realizes what that means.

“N-no, no,” he pleads. Normally, he’d be strong enough to break any human’s grip, but he’s hungry and so tired. It’s not that he doesn’t want to wash off — he feels disgusting. But not like this. The tub has d rings to connect his cuffs to.

“It’s just water,” Velvel says, his voice cold as his grip on Nolopoldo’s arm tightens enough to hurt. “My brother likes it when the product’s a bit mouthy, but I don’t. The only reason I’m not hitting you for talking out of line is because most of our clients like to do that part themselves, got it?”

Nolopoldo whimpers as Velvel shoves him forward, letting go of the grip. Nolopoldo clatters onto the floor again, hitting his back against the tub. His eyes widen as Velvel leans down over him and he breathes fast, but all Velvel does is unhook the chains connecting his bound wrists to his neck.

“Don’t try to fight me,” Velvel warns as he frees Nolopoldo’s wrists from each other, leaving the cuffs in place. There’s something else terrifying in this man’s eyes. Not quite as openly sadistic as Ze’ev, but completely apathetic. Nolopoldo feels something inside him curl up and die as Velvel strips the thin clothes the auction house had offered him for the way here from him. They’d be perfunctory anyway, not seriously meant as protection, but that doesn’t make it any better. He sobs, even as he tries to stop himself.

When he’s done and Nolopoldo’s naked shivering on the floor, he grabs Nolopoldo’s arm again and hauls Nolopoldo to his feet. Nolopoldo whimpers at the pain in his leg as Velvel practically picks him up and shoves him into the bath. Nolopoldo gasps at the sudden comfortable warmth, the sting of his still aching wounds, and the impact as he clatters against the bottom of the tub. 

He tries to push himself down and to the one side as Velvel, but the man grabs one of his wrists and attaches it to the d ring. He bites back on the no as the pain in his brand acts up at even his incredibly meager fight. He gasps for air as Velvel rounds the tub to grab his other wrist.

How many people have touched him against his will since he’d first found himself broken on the forest floor? How many people have ignored his no’s? How many more will, before it finally sinks in that it doesn’t matter?

Velvel reaches for a washcloth and wets it, lathers it with soap. His expression is disinterested, almost bored. Nolopoldo flinches back as far as he can, which isn’t very far at all.

“Please don’t,” he whimpers.

“Are you deaf as well as a cripple?” Velvel asks him, the words harsh and exasperated as he slaps the washcloth against Nolopoldo’s chest, starting to scrub aggressively. “I told you, I don’t like to hear whining. Shut your stupid whore mouth.”

I’m not— he wants to argue, but he follows the order, biting his lip to keep the mostly unconscious pleas in. He tries to put all his fear and discomfort into his expression instead, as if trying to play for sympathy. Like that’s going to get him anywhere with someone that’s already proven how little he cares.

“Should go over the ground rules, huh,” Velvel says. He soaps up the washcloth again and this time, he starts scrubbing further down— getting to the area between Nolopoldo’s legs. He wants to scream, but he can’t— can’t do anything. “You’re not allowed outside of the building without explicit, limited permission from Ze’ev or me, and you’re never to resist either of us under any circumstance. If any of our clients try to give you orders that contradict ours, assume ours take precedence. Got it? Nod.”

Nolopoldo does, trying to focus on the words instead of the touch. It’s agonizing. He feels every order settle around him like a chain.

“We’ve got some different recurring customers. You’ll probably get to know most of them eventually. They’ve got their different preferences, but most of them come to us, as opposed to any of the brothels that sell the services of the older Móladar, specifically because you’ve all got a bit more life in you. Admon’s a particularly nasty customer. Good news about that is you’ll probably be out of commission for at least a week or so after tonight.”

“Wh-what?” Nolopoldo asks, his blood running cold. The brand lights up at his disobedience, a sharp stabbing sensation in between his shoulder blades, and just as that’s faded, Velvel’s hand is on his face and he pushes down. Forcing Nolopoldo’s head under the water.

No—

Nolopoldo spasms, lashing against his bonds even as the resistance sends fresh waves of agony through his body, but Velvel’s using his full strength to shove him down. His eyes are shut tight, but there’s a difference to the darkness that threatens to consume him.

I’m going to die, he’s going to kill me, he thinks, panicked, but Velvel releases the pressure and lets him surface for air after a second. He gags, choking for air.

“You should be grateful,” Velvel tells him, exasperated. “Because that means it’ll be longer before your next client. And then your next. And your next.”

He shakes his head, eyes full of tears, as Velvel keeps wiping him down.

“You don’t get a say in the matter,” Velvel says, his words harsh.

This isn’t fair, he thinks. What did I do? What did we do, to make you people hunt us like this?

He doesn’t know. He’s so tired already. Tired of being afraid, tired of not knowing what’s going to happen next. So he lets Velvel finish cleaning him, finish touching him. The water is so dirty now, flakes of dirt mixing with his blood.

“Anyway,” Velvel continues as he reaches for a bottle of what Nolopoldo guesses to be shampoo. “They’ve all got their different preferences. Admon tends to prefer things pretty simple. He likes to fuck his whores so bloody they scream until they can’t scream anymore. Which is part of why you should save your breath for the main event. Some of them like a bit of a fight or use the brand to force you to act a certain way, but we’ll just chain you up and let him at you.”

Nolopoldo just feels numb.

Velvel massages the shampoo into Nolopoldo’s hair, before trying to brush it. Nolopoldo holds back a gasp as Velvel tears through the knots.

“This is a mess. Give me a second.”

Where am I going to go? Nolopoldo wonders, as Velvel gets up and crosses the room, looking for something. He comes back with a pair of scissors. Nolopoldo looks at them, his eyes wide, but Velvel doesn’t care.

Please, don’t, Nolopoldo thinks.

“Head up,” Velvel orders and Nolopoldo obeys, because he can’t do anything else.

If it’d been any other day, if he’d had anything left in him, he’d have fought this with tooth and nail. But he just feels empty as Velvel cuts large swaths of his hair short. He keeps the noise of the sob down, but his body’s still wracked by the wave of it.

“You’re all so dramatic about that. It’ll grow back,” Velvel scolds, and even if Nolopoldo was allowed to speak, he wouldn’t have words to describe just how wrong that was. “Grows back super fast, too. Freaks. Stay still, or this will be uneven.”

Nolopoldo tries. He does his best. He’s still shaking like a leaf. It’s only a few minutes, and when Velvel is done utterly emasculating Nolopoldo, he does back to washing his hair. When he’s done with the shampoo, he shoves Nolopoldo’s head back underwater, but mercifully, this time he doesn’t hold him down.

The conditioner is easier, since Velvel doesn’t try forcing his way through knots.

“Don’t even think of trying to escape here,” Velvel adds, and Nolopoldo tries to look anywhere but at the man. “My brother and I have been running this place for decades. If you’re really good and you get one of our wealthier customers hooked around your little finger, maybe we’ll consider selling you to them. Maybe. But as far as you should be concerned, this is your home now.”

Velvel dumps his head under the water again. He didn’t need to worry about Nolopoldo making any plans any time soon— his head feels hollow. Everything feels hollow.

I’m sorry, uncle, he thinks from a thousand miles away. You were right, I was careless. And now if I’m ever to see you again, it’ll be in my next life, with my memories stripped from me.

Velvel frees his wrists from the tub, before dragging Nolopoldo back out of the tub. Nolopoldo leans into him, to keep from collapsing again, and Velvel leads him into the next room. He’s too dazed, too lost in his own mind, to even parse that he’s being led to a bed until Velvel’s already got one of his wrists fasted to the post.

He looks up at Velvel, pleading. Pointless.

“He’ll be here in another hour or so. Plenty of time for you to sit and sweat, get you good and scared.”

Velvel takes a step back, looks over Nolopoldo’s naked body.

“One more thing,” he says, turning his back. Nolopoldo blinks, not processing the words at all, until Velvel returns with another cuff, which he slaps around Nolopoldo’s ankle on his bad leg. Nolopoldo’s too out of it to see it coming when Velvel pulls the leg up, attaching the cuff to a ring above his head. He cries out, and Velvel laughs, slapping the spot beneath Nolopoldo’s knee where the break is, leaving him to cry out again. “Ze’ev’s right, Admon’s going to love that. We’re definitely going to have to make that worse, if he doesn’t just do it for us already.”

Nolopoldo feels something dying inside him.

“Once he gets here, feel free to scream, cry, fight, whatever you want,” Velvel says, smirking as he pulls back. “I’ve got a feeling you’re about to be his new favorite.”