Page 70 of Under His Heel

He watched with detachment while the two guards pulled Claude off the bench and pressed his face to the floor. Tracht repeated his instructions, and he kicked Claude in the balls until he opened his mouth and started licking up the mess.

Tracht pulled on Alex’s shoulder and had him stand on the other side of Claude, then pressed up close. “While he does that, I think we can add to the mess on his back.”

He wiped Alex’s cock off with his handkerchief and then dropped it on the floor. Alex watched Claude lick up piss with some detachment, not really registering when Tracht took hold of his cock again and started pumping.

It was weird, his cock getting hard and Alex not really feeling any of it. It was nice on a purely physical level, but it was like his cock wasn’t even a part of his body.

It wasn’t until he could feel the imminent orgasm that he started panicking. “I don’t—Please, no,” Alex begged. Whatever technology broadcast the announcer’s voice to the room now amplified Alex’s pleas. He heard the tittering laughter in the audience, and he clenched his eyes shut and bit his lip to keep from making any more sounds.

“Claude needs to be painted white, Alex.” Tracht swiped a nail right across the slit of Alex’s cock. “So come.”

It wasn’t instantaneous. It felt like the orgasm was being forced out of him little by little. Not like when Tracht had milked him, but even more unsatisfying. His come landed across Claude’s back, and Alex slump back a little.

“Good boy,” Tracht said. He made Alex lick the traces of spunk from his hand, and then he popped a chocolate into Alex’s mouth.

Alex chewed it hungrily and tried to ignore the hollow feeling inside him.

[Chapter 22]

The party went on and on. Tracht made Alex fuck Nadia at one point. They watched Singh and Fontaine take a turn with Claude—they hooked a catheter up to his dick and fed it into his mouth. Other people came by and complimented Tracht on his choice of bondservant, or asked him why he’d picked Alex’s ugly mug. Food came in tiny morsels spread out over the course of the night, doled out as rewards for begging or performing tricks.

Tracht made Alex bend over a bench and used a crop on his ass. It didn’t hurt nearly as bad as when he’d flogged Alex, but the constant interruptions of people talking to Tracht, asking him about Alex, wanting to see Alex’s face or hole or cock—all of it left Alex feeling worse than he ever had on the ship.

By the end of the evening Alex was soaked with sweat and come and tears. He barely remembered the trip back to the ship, and if Tracht hadn’t physically manhandled him into the scrubber, he would have fallen into the bed covered in his mess.

It was a relief when he was finally allowed to lie down. Tracht pulled the covers over them and then spooned up behind Alex.

“You were so beautiful,” Tracht murmured into his ear. “Hoffman recanted his words after he saw you taking the crop.”

Alex turned his head away, exhausted and ashamed. He fell asleep with Tracht nipping at his neck and muttering more nonsense.

===

The next morning Alex felt just as shitty.

He had a headache and his body felt like a stranger. The sensation of Tracht stroking his hair was distant, muted, neither pleasant nor distasteful.

“Finally awake?” Tracht said. “I have breakfast for you.”

His stomach did feel empty, but Alex didn’t have the energy to move. He closed his eyes again with a minute shake of his head.

“Alex. Eat.”

Something squishy and wet pushed against Alex’s lips. He opened his mouth more out of habit than anything, and bit down on the slimy food, a tart liquid squirting across his tongue.

It tasted okay. Alex cracked an eye open to see what Tracht was feeding him. “What?”

Tracht was sitting upright against the headboard, his tablet on his lap. He’d put on a pair of loose track pants, but he was still shirtless. Next to him lay a tray of small, red fruit.

“A cherry orange. Native to Pylos,” Tracht explained. “If I understand correctly it isn’t actually a cherry or an orange, but it looks a bit like one and tastes like the other.” Tracht popped one into his own mouth. “Someday I’ll have to try some earth cherries or oranges. I’d like to compare the taste for myself. I’ve always balked a bit at the price.”

He fed another one to Alex, shared some anecdote about his first time eating an earth apple, and then Alex started crying.

It didn’t make any sense. Tracht was being fine. Alex was fine. His body ached and he didn’t want to ever see any of the people from yesterday ever again, but he was fucking alive and getting fed and why the fuck was Alex crying.

“Alex—”

“Fuck off!” Alex shouted. Oh god. He shuffled away from Tracht and ended up rolling off the side of the bed. He was still completely naked, and his body protested at the small impact.

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