fredbassett | Fic, Silk and Steel, Part 6

Title : Silk and Steel, Part 6
Author : fredbassett
Fandom : Primeval
Characters : Ryan, Cutter, Connor, Stephen, Leek, Lyle, Ditzy
Rating : 18
Disclaimer : Not mine (except Lyle and Ditzy), no money made, don’t sue
Spoilers : None.
Summary : Lyle gets into serious trouble.
Warning : Slave!fic, which in this case means violence and nastiness.
A/N : With thanks to munchkinofdoom for helping to plot this AU and for a super speedy beta for this part.

It had taken them a total of three hours to check both sites, but fortunately, nothing else had cropped up while they were all occupied fanning the flames of Connor’s smokescreen.

Throughout a long, hot morning, it had become increasingly obvious to Nick that Ryan should have been back at the ARC resting his injuries from the previous day, not dashing around the countryside on a wild goose chase, simply for the purpose of protecting one of his men. If the captain carried on like this, he’d be in danger of getting hospitalized.

By the time they got back to the van after checking Connor’s second distraction site, Ryan was unnaturally pale, a fact which even his suntan failed to disguise and he’d started moving with exaggerated care.

A hurried exchange he overheard between Ryan and Lyle as they closed up the van confirmed Nick’s suspicions.

“Sorry, mate,” Lyle muttered. “You should have stayed back at base, you look fit to drop.”

“I can’t duck a Red Alert. That really would wise Leek up to the bloody state I’m in, wouldn’t it? What the hell were you thinking of, Jon, you looked like you were about to deck the sod?”

“I was,” the lieutenant stated, calmly, and before Ryan could reply, he slammed the rear door shut and headed for the driver’s seat.

Nick caught Ryan’s eye, and the two men traded helpless glances. It was entirely obvious to both of them that they couldn’t keep pulling stunts like this. Lester’s patience wouldn’t stretch that far. The Head of the ARC was perfectly capable of ordering soldiers flogged, even Ryan. Nick had seen ample evidence of Lester’s ruthless streak in the month he’d now spent in this fucked-up reality to be sure of that.

“The stupid bastard’s planning something,” said Ryan. “I know that look.”

“Order him to pack it in?” hazarded Nick.

Ryan laughed. “Lyle can be a tad selective when it comes to following orders. I’ll try and get Stephen to talk some sense into him. He’s probably got more chance than the rest of us.”

“Stephen?” Nick knew his assistant had more dealings with the soldiers than the rest of the team, but he hadn’t seen evidence of any particular closeness with Ryan’s lieutenant. He opened his mouth to continue, but then caught the all too familiar look of confusion on Ryan’s face and stopped himself. He’d obviously done it again. Betrayed his complete bloody ignorance of something that was clearly well known to everyone apart from himself. He sighed and shook his head. Something else he’d need to check out with Connor when he got the lad alone.

When they got back to the ARC, Nick made a point of watching closely as Stephen helped the soldiers unload the gear, the way he normally did. Nothing unusual there, but as they checked their weapons back into the store, he caught a hurried exchange between the two men and saw a look of almost naked fear on Stephen’s face as he appeared to be trying to reason with the soldier.

“Trust me,” said Lyle, quietly. “I know what I’m doing.”

Stephen shook his head, one hand starting to reach for Lyle’s arm, then he caught Nick’s eyes on him and stopped, pulling back sharply, fear showing for a second time but now it seemed like Nick himself was the cause of the fear.

Jesus Christ, would he ever know enough to survive in this sodding world? There were times when he doubted it, and knowing, but not understanding why, a man that he’d worked with for eight years plainly feared him was almost the final bloody straw. Nick Cutter turned on his heel and headed back to the relative sanity of his office. He was relieved when Stephen Hart didn’t follow him.

* * * * *

Connor slid a mug of coffee and two chocolate biscuits onto the desk. “It’s six o’clock, Professor, I’ve emailed the reports to Lester and there’s no signs of activity on the detector, so why don’t you pack it in and go home?”

To what? Nick felt like asking. An empty house? He didn’t even know if he had any friends outside work that he could meet for a drink or a chat. Hell, after seeing the look in Stephen’s eyes earlier, he wasn’t sure he even had any friends inside work. For that matter, did he even know this Stephen? According to Helen’s little bombshell before she’d stepped back through the Anomaly, Stephen had slept with her before she’d vanished but the younger man hadn’t tried to explain, hadn’t even attempted an apology. In fact, he’d acted like nothing had even changed.

Nick had tried to broach the subject with Connor, but the younger man had just looked confused and shied away from the conversation and at the time, Nick had been more preoccupied with the successive shocks he’d received almost immediately after Helen’s parting shot. Claudia gone, Ryan alive, the whole bloody world a different place. Set against that, what did it matter that his best friend had apparently fucked his wife before she’d disappeared eight years ago?

But why the fear? That he really didn’t understand.

“Connor?”

“Um?” Connor looked instantly wary.

“What have I done to make Stephen afraid of me?”

Connor gave a nervous laugh. “Not for me to say, Professor.”

“Connor!” Nick was frustrated, and it showed.

“You don’t like him flaunting other lovers under your nose.” The words came tumbling out in a rush and Connor looked like he wanted to bolt out of the room.

Nick opened his mouth to reply, then one word in the previous sentence caught his attention. “Other lovers? Do you mean Stephen and I were ………..?”

Connor was saved from the need to reply by two short blasts on the ARC’s tannoy system, followed by the words, “Captain Ryan, report to the Punishment Room. Captain Ryan to the Punishment Room.”

It sounded like an obscene parody of an announcement in a doctor’s waiting room and Nick flinched. The last time there’d been an announcement like that it had heralded a flogging.

“Can you pick up the CCTV feed from here?”

Connor nodded and headed to the screen on Stephen’s desk. A moment later, Stephen himself hurried in through the door.

“What the hell’s happened?”

The younger man shrugged, fingers flying over the keys. Nick had already worked out that Connor had access to the vast majority of the ARC’s security systems, something that Lester clearly knew, and equally clearly tolerated.

The Punishment Room was stark white. Tiled from floor to ceiling, with a drain hole set into one corner, enabling the whole place to be hosed down easily. One camera was mounted high on the back wall, giving a good view of the whole room. Another was set equally high on a side wall, directed towards a series of metal bars down one side of the room. They watched as Lyle stalked in, closely followed by Oliver Leek. Lester’s assistant was holding a blood-stained white handkerchief to his nose.

Stephen groaned.

In remarkably short order Ryan arrived, accompanied by Ditzy. The medic promptly offered his services to Leek and was peremptorily waved away.

“Master?” Ryan managed to disguise his disgust at having to use that particular appellation for Leek. Nick was familiar enough with the hierarchy now to know that technically Ryan would be within his rights to reserve that mode of address for Lester, addressing Leek by the more general sir, but the captain was clearly making an attempt to be conciliatory.

“I should have thought it was obvious, Captain,” sniffed Leek, dabbing gently at his nose.

“He ordered me to fuck Kermit,” said Lyle, glancing up at one of the cameras. “I refused. We’re running a military unit, I wasn’t aware of the fact that performing sex acts while he watches and wanks was part of my job description. It certainly wasn’t mentioned when I signed the Indenture Papers.”

“Shut it, Jon!” said Ditzy. “Don’t make things any worse, for God’s sake.”

“I told him he was a sick inadequate little pervert who clearly couldn’t get it up himself, so he had to have someone else to do his dirty work for him. He got a bit cross at that point.”

“I’ll call Sir James,” said Ryan, reaching for his radio.

“You’ll do no such thing!” Leek snapped. “It’s Lester’s day off. He’s been disturbed enough as it is. I have full authority in his absence for matters of discipline, Ryan, and you know it. And on this occasion, I think the full twenty lashes are wholly merited.”

“You could kill him with that, master,” pleaded Ditzy, trying and failing to mask the horror on his face.

“He should have thought of that before opening his mouth, shouldn’t he?” Leek almost purred. “Twenty lashes is the maximum punishment allowable without the bother of calling a Court Martial, and twenty lashes it shall be. I’m sure that limit was set for a good reason.” He turned to Ditzy and smiled. “But just so no-one accuses me of any lack of mercy, I shall administer them myself.”

Nick saw the look of shock on Stephen’s face deepen, if that was possible. “That’s better than one of the soldiers doing it, isn’t it?” he said quietly. “Leek can’t be as strong as them, surely?”

Stephen looked at him in amazement and with something approaching dislike.

It was left to Connor, as ever, to explain. “It’s not down to strength, Professor. The soldiers know how to do it so that the poor sod blacks out after the first couple. The rest of the strokes make a mess, but they can usually manage to get the majority in before whoever it is comes round. That’s what Lyle managed to do when Leek had Ryan flogged last month, but the little bastard’s wised up to that trick now, that’s why he does it himself. And he’s been practising …..”

Stephen turned before Connor had even finished speaking and started to head for the door.

Nick grabbed his arm. “Stephen, don’t be so bloody stupid. You can’t stop Leek and you know it! Connor, find Lester! I don’t care where he is, just bloody well find him.” Stephen stared back at him. Surprise warring with shock for dominance in the startling blue eyes. Connor’s earlier revelation still fresh in his mind, Nick abruptly drew his hand away. “I’ll take responsibility if anyone needs to, but just bloody well find him.”

On the monitor screen, Nick watched as Lyle causally pulled his shirt off and dropped it onto the floor, before stepping up to the metal frame bolted to one wall and securing his own left wrist with one of the broad leather straps which dangled from a short, adjustable length of chain. He held out his other wrist to Ryan, who secured it in place and then stepped to one side, shaking his head slightly.

The Special Forces captain adjusted the chain length on each manacle so that Lyle’s arms were held tightly but not so tight as to put strain on his muscles. The lieutenant’s feet were secured in a similar fashion, legs slightly spread.

“Don’t take all day about it, Ryan,” snapped Leek. “And don’t think the cavalry are going to ride to the rescue on this occasion. I happen to know that Lester is taking a call from the P.M. at the moment, so whichever of your misguided protectors has gone scuttling off to find him is going to be sadly disappointed, I fear.” Leek shot a malicious glance at the security camera and gave a disdainful sniff.

“He’s right,” breathed Connor, frustration clearly stamped all over his face. “Lester’s on his secure line, but the call’s coming from Downing Street, I can tell that much.”

The heavy thwap of half a dozen thin leather straps striking human flesh made Nick jump.

The first blow hadn’t broken the skin, but he could see every muscle in Lyle’s arms tighten against the blow. Red stripes ran diagonally across the soldier’s back, overlaying older, now healed, scars that stood out in mute contrast to the lightly tanned skin. This obviously wasn’t the first time the young lieutenant had been flogged.

“I don’t fucking care who he’s talking to,” Nick snapped. “Break the goddamn connection, Connor!”

The second blow fell, sounding even louder than the first, crossing Lyle’s back in the opposite direction, flaying even more nerves into sharp pain.

“I can’t,” said Connor, refusing to make eye contact, staring instead at the horror unfolding on the computer screen. “I can’t, Professor.”

The next fall of the lash opened red furrows in Lyle’s skin, and the sound of the soldier’s breathing could now be heard on the audio feed. Harsh and ragged. Great gulps of air being dragged into heaving lungs while Lyle clearly fought against the urge to scream.

Leek stood back and surveyed his handiwork with a look of intense satisfaction on his narrow face.

Stephen leaned forward, gripping the back of Connor’s chair so hard that his knuckles had turned white. “Conn, patch this feed through to Lester’s computer, you can ghost in and do that, can’t you?”

Connor nodded, mutely and reached for the mouse.

Nick watched in sick horror as Leek stepped forward a pace for his fourth stroke and moved slightly to one side so that this time the lash curled round Lyle’s chest, ripping across one nipple with sickening force. Lyle grunted, but didn’t cry out. The muscles on his arms were now knotted with strain, and sweat was running freely down his face and body. On the split screen from the two camera feeds, one of them showed Lyle’s hazel eyes, wide open and pain filled.

The soldier spat blood on the floor, panting, “Fuck you, you bastard!”

“Connor, cut that fucking phone line, and get me through to Lester, now!”

“He can’t do it, Cutter!” said Stephen, through clenched teeth. “There’s no way Lester would let him get away with that without ordering another flogging. Connor’s risking enough as it is!” Stephen’s blue eyes were angry and challenging. “And why the fucking attack of conscience now? You had Blade whipped for killing something that you thought we should have taken alive, even though it’d already put two of Ryan’s lads in the hospital wing. So why the change of heart? I’d’ve thought you’d enjoy watching anyone I cared about ripped to shit! You’re that sort of possessive bastard and you always have been!”

Nick recoiled from the hatred in Stephen’s eyes, shocked almost as much by the expression on his assistant’s face as he had been by the glimpse he’d just caught on screen of the obvious and sickening bulge in the front of Leek’s trousers.

Connor reached out a tentative, almost pleading, hand. “He’s right, Professor. There’s nothing more we can do. If Lester’s looking at his computer, he’ll see what’s happening, but he’s not going to intervene, he never does, not when it’s gone this far. And there’s no way I can break into that call. No way. If I did, I’d be the next one in the Punishment Room.”

The fifth stroke of the heavy leather lash ripped deep furrows down Lyle’s left side, catching him around the chest there as well. This time something that sounded almost like a quiet whine was dragged from Lyle’s bloodstained lips and the lieutenant’s head fell forward for a moment, eyes screwed tightly shut against the pain.

Ryan and Ditzy stood entirely still, but Nick could see both men’s hands balled into fists, nails digging into their own palms as they watched, powerless to help.

Powerless. Everyone that Nick had talked to so far in this fucking evil country had claimed to be powerless to do anything to change what they all appeared to see as a necessary evil. Certain jobs needed doing, and certain people were desperate enough to sell themselves into the System for whatever reason so that those jobs continued to be done. And no-one did a damn thing to stop it. To make matters worse it seemed than he’d been responsible for an abuse of power almost as bad as the one he was being forced to watch now. No! It hadn’t been him! He hadn’t given that order, whatever Stephen and Connor might think, and he’d bloody well prove it to them.

“What will it take to convince you two that I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about? I’ve been in this god forsaken world no more than a fucking month. I have not ordered anyone flogged. I do not give a monkey’s damn who you sleep with, Stephen. I haven’t slept with you, and I don’t bloody well want to! No, I wasn’t best pleased to discover you’d slept with my wife, but if this fucked up version of reality is anything to go by, for all I know you didn’t have much of a fucking choice about it either.”

And with that, Nick left the pair of them gaping at him like stranded fish as he headed out of the room at a run, the sound of Leek’s sixth lash stroke following him mockingly out of the door.

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Wow, intense.

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Fic, Silk and Steel, Part 6

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