Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ A tiny twist in time ❯ Consequences ( Chapter 14 )

        Brolli didn’t dare look up when he heard the door open. He didn’t dare move, hadn’t dared since the day after his punishment had begun. The heavy footsteps weren’t ones he recognized, which meant his punishment hadn’t ended yet. Fingers grabbed his hair, pulled him roughly to his knees and face-first into a cock. He opened his mouth, just like the good little whore the man called him. He was pretty sure he knew what that phrase meant, now, and wouldn’t have to ask his master.         If his master ever released him from the punishment, that was. His throat and rear were raw and tender, his body battered and bruised, his tail a mess, but his master had told him that it was necessary to be hurt this way, then tanked. That there were worse ways he could be hurt, ways that would damage him so that he would be crippled and ugly by the time it was over, ways that not even a tank could help. Zarbon had told him he’d been bad, and must be punished. His master had promised that no one would be allowed to maim or mark him permanently – which meant they must tank him – but they could do anything they wished, and he must allow it. That if he allowed it, he would be strong enough for what was to come. His master had looked worried when he’d said that.         So he allowed it, when the men came and fucked his ass or his mouth. Allowed himself to be pissed on, shit on. Allowed the whippings and canings. Allowed the beatings. Allowed the sodomy with unnatural objects. He allowed it all, because it was necessary. Necessary to keep him alive, necessary to make him strong, necessary for his master’s plan to keep him safe. He didn’t really understand how it would keep him safe, but his master knew and worried it wouldn’t be enough. Brolli only understood that it hurt like with Father, and hoped it would be over soon. Zarbon hadn’t been sure how long the punishment would last.         His tail! Brolli screamed in spite of the mouthful clogging his throat, wailed as the sensitive appendage was yanked and twisted, fragile bones crushed. His abuser threw him down on his belly, still twisting his tail. The guards laughed, and he heard the top of the tin box open. His screams became shrill keening as the true torture began. Brolli held on to two thoughts: Master said it could be worse, and not to reveal his secret. He concentrated hard not to reveal the secret, fighting against himself as he drowned in agony.           Zarbon paced his room, his strides jerky. Several times he stopped and turned towards the door, only to catch himself and take up the uneven pacing once again. His fingers flicked over his jewelry, touching the gems dangling at his ears and forehead once again. Occasionally he brushed the one from his forehead away, revealing an angry burn behind it. Similar burns marked his neck where the earrings had touched him.         He had had to make a semblance of punishing Brolli. His pet had killed Frieza on his order, but there was no one who knew that. The cameras hadn’t been working, and he’d killed the guards himself. He brushed irritably at his jewels even as he allowed himself to smirk at his twisted logic: kill the guards who didn’t guard, punish the sex slave who did the killing. However, he was punishing Brolli for attacking without orders, not for the killing. Not that he was telling anyone that.         “You’re glowing.”         “Brolli.”         “Do you know what they are doing to him?”         Zarbon whirled. “I know,” he snarled. “I know, and I must allow it! King Kold will join us in two weeks time, and I must allow this punishment to continue at least until then!”         “Why?”         “Jeice…” Zarbon sighed, and threw himself onto the couch. “What happens when a Saiyan gets hurt, badly, but not killed?”         “You tank ‘em so they’re fit to send out again.”         “What happens when they come back mostly dead and get tanked?”         “You send ‘em out again.”         “Why?”         “Um….” It was odd how he could hear Jeice frowning as he thought over how to answer. “Oh, I get it! The monkeys are always stronger! You’re making the kid stronger?!! Are you insane?!” A frantic white blur zipped over and straddled him. “The boy tore Frieza apart with his bare hands! He’s strong enough!”         “Not to take out King Kold,” Zarbon replied with a quiet certainty. “Kold will want him destroyed: Brolli killed his son. You know that. I know that. I know that, and I won’t allow it! Brolli is mine.”         Jeice sat back and stared down at him. “You’re taking on King Kold over a monkey? A Saiyan? Seriously?”         “Apparently.” Zarbon frowned, and gave in. He removed the earrings and diadem, tossing them into a corner.         “Three, two, one….” Jeice counted down. “Huh. They didn’t explode WAH! Okay, they did.”         “That is the seventh set since Frieza’s death. I’m literally glowing with Brolli’s power, not my own.”         “I’m surprised you haven’t split your skin. Or transfor – I won’t say it!” Jeice squeaked as Zarbon surged up.         “You had better not!” Zarbon snapped.         “Calm down. Just go get the kid, will ya? You can always say the public punishment wasn’t creative enough. Most of ‘em just fuck him anyhow, and that ought to be reserved for us. He’s yours, not theirs.”         Zarbon started to smack the smaller man, then froze, an arrested expression on his face. “True. Get up, get dressed, and find my clothes.”           The sound began grating on their ears long before they reached the wing where Brolli was kept. High and shrill, almost metallic, but with a ring of something not artificial. Zarbon’s new set of jewels was already glowing nearly as much as he was. Zarbon was first through the door; Jeice arriving in time to see him drop his transformation as he fell to his knees next to the half-dead thing that had once been his pet.         Jeice checked the carcasses, just in case Zarbon had accidentally left one alive, then flash-fried what was left of them. He glanced once at the gory mess, and went straight to the regeneration tank in the corner. He checked the readings. “Zarbon, they’ve either not healed him, or only healed him partway.”         A snarl was his only answer, so he reset the tank to the proper levels for a severely damaged Saiyan. “It’s ready for him now.”         “Help me.”         Jeice’s hair was red by the time he and Zarbon had gotten the Saiyan to the tank. They laid the boy out in front of it. “Let me see if this model has the horizontal option. Otherwise… it’s gonna be real bad.”         “Check.” Zarbon stayed by the boy’s side, rolling him very carefully to remove the undamaged portion of his tail while Jeice checked the tank again.         “Zarbon? It doesn’t. Vertical only. It will hold two, though.”         “Two?”         “Yeah. I can reset it so you can both be in there, or me and the kid. You’re taller, though.”         “Leave the settings as they are, and help me get him in there. I’ll hold him.”         “Right, then.”           Tank. A strange smell, though. Tanks weren’t supposed to smell like his master. How could… oh. He wasn’t alone. His master was wrapped around him, holding him up. He watched tendrils of loose green hair floating, moving with the slow undulations of the chemicals surrounding them. His master was with him.         Content, Brolli settled himself more firmly against the slender form behind him. The question of his punishment’s end could wait, since his master would be with him this time when he came out of the tank. He felt… stronger, not weak and dizzy as he had been the last few times he’d woken.         Zarbon’s arms tightened around him. Brolli tipped his head, letting it loll against Zarbon’s shoulder. Golden eyes regarded him; one hand loosed. Brolli caught the blur of white: Jeice had moved to empty the tank at Zarbon’s signal. Zarbon held him as the tank drained, held him until Jeice had opened the door and opened a towel. Brolli stepped forward obediently when Zarbon released him; accepting Jeice’s critically assessing gaze as the other man toweled him dry before handing him a fresh towel.         Brolli turned to his master, performing the same service for Zarbon that Jeice had performed for him. Gratefully, he sank to his knees to dry his master’s legs, and was startled to be pushed away. “Am I still bad?” he asked mournfully, not even trying to get up. “Am I… still bad?”         “No!” This from a fierce Jeice, who forced him to sit back up and wrapped another towel around his shoulders. His master, though, said nothing as he dried his own legs. Brolli regarded him hopefully as Jeice began working on his hair, slumping in defeat when Zarbon refused to acknowledge him.         Instead, his master spoke to Jeice. “He’s healed?”         “Yeah, he’s healed. Needs a decent feeding – “ On cue, Brolli’s stomach protested its empty state. He flushed. “ – and some rest, probably, but he’s properly healed up this time.”         “Good. King Kold will join us in two weeks. The Saiyan’s punishment will continue until he arrives.” Brolli slumped further in Jeice’s embrace. Master was going to ignore him again, for two whole weeks.         “Bad off as he was, is that really necessary?” Jeice protested.         “We will punish him from now on, Jeice.” Zarbon turned his back on them and began dressing. “His body was broken. It must be that his spirit is broken as well.”         “Not his mind?”         “His father already did that,” Zarbon returned sourly. He faced them once more, fingers working through his hair, braiding. “I am fairly certain that Saiyan broke his spirit as well, but it must be certain he will do whatever I wish when I demand it of him.”         Quietly, not quite subvocally, Brolli whispered, “I kept the secret.”         Zarbon knelt in front of him. “I know. Now you must learn to obey my slightest wish.”         Brolli looked up at him, eyes shining. “I can do that!” he said eagerly.         Zarbon laid a finger over his lips. Brolli licked, knowing his master liked that, but kept quiet. “I don’t want you speaking again until I give you permission. I will not touch you, or speak to you after this. You are going to have to learn what it is I expect of you without those cues.”         Brolli nodded, eyes wide. It was a hard task his master was giving him, but he’d been paying attention. He knew a great deal about what his master liked and expected already. He could do this.         “I can’t expect Jeice to keep his mouth shut – “         “Hey!”         “ – so he will instruct you in anything complicated enough to require verbal instruction.”         Brolli nodded again, Jeice huffing out his agreement. Zarbon gave him a small smile, then stood, every inch Frieza’s replacement. “Take him to my quarters. He’s to wear nothing save his collar and these.” Zarbon flicked the jewels Brolli wore.         “Right. Come on.”