Fic: Torture

[aloneindarknes7]

So, I wasn't having a good day. When I'm really angry or upset, I turn to Sladin fics to make things better for me but worse for Robin. So here's a new fic from me even though I have so many fics I actually NEED TO FINISH WHY DID I FINISH THIS ONE?!? Oh well. I would have turned all the other fics angsty due to my mood so I guess this was for the best.


Title: Torture
Author: Jordan Herbert 
Warnings: Slash and mentioning of upcoming non-con, weapon play, torture, and over-all not nice things. Not for the faint of heart.
Pairing: Sladin (SladeRobin)
Fandom: Teen Titans
Rating: R for dark insinuations
Word Count: 2,170
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this fic. 
Author's Note: I switch tenses and I don't think I did it right but I don't have time to waste on this fic. Oh, written for the prompt Torture from both dcu_freeforall  and 50_darkfics 

 

           
It’s not the first time that he’s ever been captured. Hell, he should have carried around his own ransom note just to save time when he worked with Batman. It had seemed like a tradition for once a month that the Joker or the Riddler or whoever the baddie that had escaped from Arkham for the week had to take him as a prisoner. But he doesn’t work with Batman anymore.

           
He leads the Titans now. He’s a leader and he’s been tortured before so he should be use to it and just start to prepare himself for it. He knows that he won’t give out any information that his captors might want and so all he’ll do it hold out until the Titans come or he can figure a way out and then throw whomever into jail.

           
He’s used to that routine. And he knows that he probably wouldn’t be panicking if he saw the familiar threatening items that most people used on him to make him speak. But the room that he woke up in holds no knives, guns, blunt objects, or even a captor with an intimidating look.

           
Instead, there’s a table beside him with a bunch of items laid out in some sort of pattern or perhaps the order that Robin’s captors wishes to use the items on him. He certainly hopes not.          

           
They’re all strap-ons, which are basically just bigger dildos that can give a personal and more pleasurable touch to the user. Robin knows of them but he had never seen one in person before. Except the ones lined on the table aren’t simply strap-ons or dildos or anything like that. They look like weapons.

           
A large dildo that seemed to have been a love child with the old mid-evil mace weapon, nicely spiked and just huge, stood where Robin was sure the normal, round, not-deathly tip was supposed to be on one of the strap-ons. Then there was another one which just had large, misshapen bumps on it in random places and Robin couldn’t help but wonder where all of these things had been purchased at because no one in their right mind would actually buy and use these types of things on their lovers. Three others that don’t seem any better were on the table but Robin tears his gaze away before he starts analyzing those ones as well.

           
Even though the table worries him, the pot of hot ashes next to him makes him sweat, and not because of the heat that’s emitting off of it. Within the hot coals are dildos, heating up and bright red because all five of them are made of metal. But they have leather handles so Robin’s pretty sure that they aren’t dildos even though they look like them. Then again, that one that’s especially red and really long is pointed at the end and completely un-dildo like.

           
Compared to the burning pot filled with whatever those are, certainly not dildos, the wall in front of him with hanging weapons doesn’t seem so bad. Of course it’s not like it’s a sight to smile at.

           
The cat-o-nine-tails, the combined four whip weapon which he is familiar with thanks to Catwoman, is hanging on the first of many hooks on the wall. Next to it is a large paddle with holes drilled into the wooden object and Robin knows that it’s going to feel worse than the Batpaddle ever did. Then on the next hook is a simple, single strapped whip, but the single strap is as thick as the handle and pure leather and reminds Robin too much of a belt. Especially with the little pieces of metal that runs up and down the thick strap. A belt he would find in the stores Raven liked to shop at, but it was a belt nonetheless.

           
It only gets worse as Robin looks down the row and he gulps as he realizes that his captors are prepared to use everything in the room on him.

           
He may have been tortured before, but he’s never been sexually tortured. He’s been pumped full of drugs, he had been whipped before, and he’s been through many other things, but no one had ever used such items on him before in such a way. Robin is the Boy Wonder, the virgin poster boy of Justice standing next to Batman or in front of the Titans.

           
Robin’s face is pale as he looks around the room frantically, from one item to the other and when he realizes that he can hear his own breath he closes his eyes and forces the thoughts away from his head; forces himself not to think about the items that will be used in such a painful and foreign way on him, in him.

           
He takes a lot of deep breathes, one right after the other, focusing only on trying to get his breath even and relaxed. Once he feels himself start to calm down, no longer letting his fear control him, he tries to figure a way out of his situation while keeping his eyes closed.

           
His gloves were removed so he can’t use the hidden picks to unlock the thick metal bonds wrapped around his wrists. He’s missing his belt as well so he’s not going to be able to use any of his weapons to explode the chains clanking loudly above him as he twists his wrists. His cape is gone as well and his breathing is starting to pick up again because he’s completely aware of the fact that he’s only wearing his mask and boxers.

           
It doesn’t help that every time he moves his wrists the metal cuffs only rub more of his skin off and he can already feel some blood run down his arms. He can’t even move his feet to rub that skin off because the chains that are digging into his skin, wrapped around his ankles, don’t give him any room to even more an inch or else he would have closed his legs and locked his knees and pray that he faints.

           
“Calm down,” Robin says quietly to himself as he forces his eyes to stay on the ground and not dart frantically around the room at the items that he knows will cause him a great deal of pain. But when he looks at the floor directly below him he’s startled to see himself staring back. There’s a large mirror on the ground that reflects his fear perfectly.

           
“The Titans will be here for you any minute now, just endure.” Normally when he talks to himself he’s able to lower his heart rate, no matter what the situation that he’s in is like. But he can feel his heart still pounding like a jackhammer under his chest and it’s probably because he can’t stop picturing how he looks even when he closes his eyes again.

           
He knows that his hair is a mess and plastered around his sweaty, pale face. He knows that he’s spread wide open and that he can’t do a single thing to close his legs. He knows that his arms are pulled tightly above his head so that his stomach is taut and showing off all of the muscular lines in his body. And he knows that whoever his captors are, they are all a bunch of sick bastards and--

           
There’s a hand cupping his chin and a thumb brushing his jawbone. He hadn’t heard a single footstep or any door opening but the grip is firm on him and it has to be his captor.            

           
Robin’s eyes snap open and he turns his head, only to have his eyes widen even more and for his jaw to drop as he stares face to face with Slade. Except it isn’t face to face, because they both have their masks on, despite the fact that Slade’s mask is different yet completely the same. Robin shivers as Slade continues to rub his thumb over his pale skin.

           
Slade’s mask is still half black and half orange, it still only has one eye hole, but it’s no longer made of metal. Slade is wearing a leather mask that goes along with his Kevlar outfit but that’s fine, Robin can deal with the slightly kinky change in uniform because Slade had always given the impression that he’s a kinky man.

           
It’s the fact that Slade’s new mask doesn’t have the slits like his other mask does and that Slade’s now giving more than an impression that he wants to be a kinky man with Robin. Instead of the slits that allowed Slade to breathe through the metal, there’s just an opening that allows Robin to see Slade’s smirk as he continues to stroke his jaw line and he shivers again. Slade’s always seemed like a kinky man and maybe even a bit of a pedophile and sure, Robin kind of got some hints that maybe Slade was interested in him like that. But Robin had always thought that Slade had some sort of honor code to him. That Slade would never force himself on someone else, especially not someone so much younger and inexperienced than he is, and that Slade had gotten the message that Robin hated his guts.

           
Apparently, Robin needs to resend that e-mail because Slade’s still smirking, still rubbing his gloved thumb over Robin’s soft skin, and Robin’s fear about all the sex weapons—because they’re too dangerous to ever be called toys—is only growing now that he knows that it will be Slade to wield them.

           
He’s never really cared too much about how bigger his opponent is because he had believed that he could always use their size against them in a battle. But now that he couldn’t even use his own size, hands, legs, weapons, or anything at all against Slade, he finally notices how big Slade really is.

           
During the days of his apprenticeship for the man, he had been around Slade so much but his thoughts had been filled with simply hatred for Slade and fear for his friends. Now that he can’t get his fear for himself out of his thoughts, he was taking in every detail of Slade, every single inch of the over six foot man.

           
Robin gulps when he meets Slade’s single blue eye that’s filled with so much hunger and lust and causes Robin to gulp again before he finally finds his voice.

           
“Sl…Slade.” Robin tried to control himself but his voice couldn’t carry all of his hatred that he had for the man. His voice only shook with all the fear that he had for him. The fear and the knowledge of what was going to happen to him all because the man had once sought him out to be his apprentice.

             
Robin can’t bring himself to tear his gaze away from Slade’s piercing eye, even when Slade’s smirk widens and he starts to lean down. Robin can’t even bring himself to say anything, to move something, to do anything as Slade’s lips hungrily covers his own.

           
His eyes are wide and he’s still staring into Slade’s eye, or he would be if Slade hadn’t closed his eye to savor the taste of Robin’s petrified lips. Slade’s mouth is moving against Robin’s but it can’t register in Robin’s mind. He can’t rattle his chains, try to turn his head, or do anything as he’s simply shocked frozen.

           
Then the grip on his chin tightens a bit and his mouth is forced open. His mind finally realizes that Slade is kissing him and that Slade’s tongue really is in his mouth and…

           
Slade moans and Robin shivers as his tongue is pulled into Slade’s mouth and the man starts to suck on it. His eyes are even wider than before and when Slade finally releases his chin he pulls away with a wet sound and he’s still staring into Slade’s intense eye as he tries to catch his breath.

           
Slade’s smirk is now a smile but his eye is only hungrier and Robin can only shiver some more as Slade’s gaze breaks with his own to roam over his body instead. “Hello, Robin.” Slade’s voice is as sturdy and dignified as it’s always been even as he slides his cold gloved hand down Robin’s side and sends the boy shivering again.

           
The smile on Slade’s face confirms to Robin that there is no way out of this. Robin knows that Slade isn’t going to ransom him for Batman or any of the Titans and that none of the Titans or Batman can help him out of this situation. He knows that Slade isn’t looking to get any information out of Robin. And he knows that it is really going to happen.

           
As the cold glove lands on his hip and stays there to stroke tiny circles on his protruding hip bone, Robin closes his eyes and tries to prepare himself to simply endure everything that’s about to happen.

THE END

And stopping right there, that's the real torture. ;) I'm evil, aren't I?

Comments

[coldfiredragon.livejournal.com]

NOOOOOOO! You can't stop there! What the hell? *pouts* This was very well done. Poor Robin. I am going to encourage you to do more, lots more, Please?

[aloneindarknes7.livejournal.com]

*insert evil laugh here* Yeah, I'm a big jerk. XD I'll do more but not of this particular fic, sorry.