Page 67 of Under His Heel

The lights suddenly dimmed, and somebody got on the stage on the far end of the room.

“Ladies and Gentlemen! It’s time for tonight’s special entertainment!” the guy said. Something was amplifying his voice so it could be heard clearly even from the back. “I present to you my newest acquisition, just one week in my care and still unbroken and untrained.”

A quiet murmur ran across the room. Alex craned his neck to get a better look at the stage, horrified and curious despite himself.

A bondservant got manhandled onto the stage by two muscular men. The guy was middle-aged, olive skinned with curly black hair. His hands were bound behind him, his mouth was gagged, and he was completely naked. He was actually kind of hairy, which surprised Alex.

The guy also looked furious.

Tracht’s hand in Alex’s hair tightened. “Is that—?”

“Oh my god,” Singh whispered. She turned to Fontaine. “Did you know?”

Fontaine snorted a laugh. “I had my suspicions. It all happened while you were out of range. He was caught embezzling—the company cut all ties with him, his family fled to Pylos, and he was left owing the station millions.”

“And Fotiou actually bought that contract?” Tracht sounded impressed. “That’s a lot of money, even for him.”

“I don’t know the details—”

The announcer on stage cleared his throat to quiet the room. “Yes, you are seeing correctly. Claude Dubois, in the flesh. And what flesh it is!” He kicked between Claude’s legs to force them apart.

Claude shouted from behind his gag and struggled to get away from the two guards, but they held his shoulders tightly.

“I think we all recall how much he bragged about having the biggest balls on Atalanta,” the announcer said. “Well, I can safely say that—okay, they weren’t much to look at before, but after a week of treatment, he now certainly does boast the biggest testicles.” He grabbed the aforementioned balls, and fucking hell, they really were unnaturally large and swollen. The pair of them seemed as wide as the announcer’s hand.

Alex wrapped an arm around Tracht’s leg and swallowed a whimper. People in the room were laughing, and the guy on stage started shaking his head.

“I know Claude has screwed so many of you over,” the announcer went on, “so my question to all of you is: who would like to be the first to screw him?”

Immediately a bunch of hands went up, alongside a bunch of cries of “me!”

“So many! Well, everybody will get a turn. My assistant will go around and collect names, and we’ll randomize the order.”

When the assistant stopped near Tracht, Alex hoped that he’d give it a pass.

“Lina, shall we go as a pair?” Fontaine said. “I brought a few tools with just this fucker in mind.”

Singh nodded. “Sure. It’s more fun together anyway. What about you, Tracht? Are you going to have a turn?”

“It’s a small dilemma.” Tracht petted Alex’s hair. “I find him utterly repulsive, to the point that it’s almost not worth it…” He tilted Alex’s head up. “Hmm.”

The assistant coughed. “If you’d rather not, that’s perfectly fine.”

“Put my name in. I’m sure I’ll figure something out.” Tracht traced Alex’s lips and stuck his finger in his mouth. “How badly do you need to urinate, Alex?”

Hard to answer with a finger in his mouth. “A lot.”

The assistant moved on; Fontaine and Singh talked about what they’d like to do to this Claude person, everything from piercings to enemas to electric soundings. Alex shuddered and sucked hard on Tracht’s finger, trying to distract himself.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen! Here are the results!” The announcer pointed to a screen in the corner where a bunch of names popped up.

“Looks like first place goes to Ms. Papadopoulos! Please come up to the stage and have your fun!”

Some people in the room ‘aww’ed in disappointment, but a fair few seemed excited by the prospect of watching too.

“I appear to be sixth,” Tracht murmured. “Those are going to be some sloppy seconds.” He looked over to Fontaine and Singh. “Looks like you’re near the end.”

“At least we’ll have plenty of time to set up.” Fontaine looked positively gleeful. He undid Nadia’s blindfold and unhooked her wrists from her ankles. “Sweetie, go get my bag. I left it with your clothes.”

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