Unconditionally Conditional

Wyatt Cain knew as soon as he woke up in his holding cell that he was in deep trouble. He tested the red lines at the mouth of it by throwing a pebble at them, only to watch it melt instantly upon connecting with that web of energy. This was no ordinary prison. Considering that piece of technology alone, he knew that he had to be in the Palace. Cain climbed to his feet, approaching as close as he dared to those beams in order to look out and try to judge more of his surroundings.

His suspicions were quickly confirmed. He was indeed in the bowels of the Palace. There were Palace Guards all over the place, patrolling along the cells on the levels above and below his own, unmistakeable in their black leather garments. Cain could not see into any of the other cells in order to check if any of his comrades were here. He could only hope that more people than just himself had survived the botched attack from the previous night.

Cain was part of the Resistance, a group of underground fighters who had been trying to overthrow the corrupt government of the Monarchy. That leading body was a dictatorship, as famous for its cruelty as it was for its debauchery. The Queen ruled the land with an iron fist, leaving people to scatter into hiding or face becoming enslaved like those in the Palace. Cain had heard tales, mostly horror stories, about what happened to those who became slaves to the Monarchy. Very few people managed to escape. Those who did came back to their homes forever changed.

The Monarchy had the upperhand against the Resistance, for the simple fact that all of the technology in the realm was constricted to the Palace. Technology meant for every purpose from luxury to weaponry. Against the military force of the Guards, a handful of farmers and hunters had little hope for victory. Cain had known this when he joined, but felt in his heart that it was the right thing to do, to try for a better future. So he had gone along with them for an attack, but they had been greatly outnumbered, and Cain remembered one of the Guards bringing a beatstick down over his head before he'd blacked out.

Returning to his cot, he sat down heavily on it, dropping into a slouch as he thought further upon his situation. He was in the Palace. He was a prisoner. Either they were going to kill him, or else he was going to end up being put into the Monarchy's Slave Program. Cain was hoping for a quick death. If the stories that he had heard were any indication of what he had to look forward to in slavery, he definitely would have preferred choosing his demise.

Cain was left alone to dwell on those thoughts for over two hours before finally being visited in his cell.

A group of men came to a stop on the outside of the red beams, all dressed in white leather coats. Cain knew from the Resistance reports that these were Medics. They were responsible for the physical care of those inside the Palace, having the best technology at their fingertips. No one who lived in the Palace was ever sick. It was a paradise of good health. However, Cain had also heard about the other things that Medics did. Experiments, usually involving the slaves who were at the Palace, or prisoners like himself.

He stood up as one of the men reached to the wall beside his cell, punching in a code. The red beams dissolved with a soft thrum of energy, Cain looking warily at the cluster of Medics. Then one of them strode forward, and by his very manner, Cain knew that this one was in charge. His attire was even slightly different, the white coat interwoven with hints of black along the seams. The man was dark-haired and pale, his brown eyes studying Cain impassionately as he entered the cell. He gestured the other men forward, nodding towards the blond. "Strip him. Begin the medical examination. He seems to be in good health, but I want a full analysis."

Cain found himself being swarmed by the Medics, who began to pull at his clothes. He was immediately angered by their treatment of him, resisting them by starting to fight. However, they were many, and he was one. Cain grunted in pain as he found himself forced down on his knees. His blue eyes glared up at the leader of the Medics as the man approached him, smiling faintly. "A fighter, I see. That kind of energy should be useful to you in the future, if you learn to invest it towards the right things."

He ignored Cain's continued glare, the blond jerking in the hold of the Medics as the man reached a black gloved hand down to his shirt. Cain felt him ripping the fabric, exposing his chest. The leather encasing those fingers was cool as it skimmed across his skin, until they poised over the tattoo of a Resistance Fighter which had been etched into the flesh of his left shoulderblade. That made the man's smile vanish.

Those brown eyes flickered sharply to meet Cain's, something passing over the man's face. Recognition? Cain's anger was clouded by confusion as he tried to figure out what that expression meant. Then the man's hand quickly withdrew, eyes spilling back into that detached sheen as he straightened away from Cain. "I want him delivered to the Chamber in an hour. If you need to recruit a few Guards to get him to carry through the rest of the exam, then so be it. Instruct them not to bruise him too much -- we need him to look impressive for the Court."

Cain watched him walking away, speaking to the Medics without another glance in his direction. "I will leave him to you gentlemen. Report to me as soon as the examination is completed." Then the man left him at the hands of the Medics, as Cain was given no other choice but to submit to their actions.

~~~~~~~~~

Once the Medics were finished with him, Cain found himself being locked into metal shackles around his wrists and ankles, a chain loosely linking the two sets together. That was all that they allowed him to wear. He found himself being dragged down a long dark corridor, unable to see anything inside the blackness. The Guards who were escorting him stopped him at one point, Cain feeling them depart but unable to determine which direction they had left to. He twisted back and forth, surrounded by silent darkness, with only the sound of his own breath and the clink of the shackles for company.

Then, abruptly, spotlights turned on high overhead, blinding him. Cain lifted his shackled hands up to cover his eyes, wincing away from it. The silence gave way to a few low laughs, and an exchange of whispers from above him. Cain's arms slowly lowered, the man looking up in the direction of those sounds.

He found himself standing at the bottom of a large circular chamber. There were balconies which jutted out several feet over his head, constructed out of marble. They looked like ones he had seen in a theater once. Each one of them was occupied with one or two people, seated in their chairs as if they were watching a performance. Cain let his eyes study each balcony one at a time, taking measure of those who sat there.

The central balcony, wider than the others, was where the Queen sat. Her lavender eyes were studying Cain with amusement, lips twisted in half a smile as she considered him. She was said to be one of the most beautiful women in the realm, which Cain could surely believe by looking at her. There was very little paints needed to highlight her beauty, and the tight fit of her black corset indicated that the ample flesh there would tempt any man. But this woman was also evil. Cain could not work up any spark of desire for her, beauty or not.

Beside her was her consort, handsome enough by the standards of the realm. Cain knew that this man often went outside of the Palace on the Royal Hunts, where the Court would make a game out of hunting down people to capture for their whims. He leaned casually against the Queen's side, whispering something into her which made the woman laugh softly and nod in agreement.

Cain was distracted from the other balconies when the Queen made a languid gesture, her voice ringing out through the chamber. "Report."

Someone stood up from a chair in the balcony. Cain was surprised to see that it was the lead Medic from earlier in his cell. The man bowed to the Queen, before speaking. "Wyatt Cain, Highness. Aside from lacerations from a blow to the head, he is in perfect health. My Medics tell me that he is quite.. spirited, judging by how he handled their attempts to examine him. He has no diseases -- completely clean."

"Then we should decide what to do with him." The Queen purred, smirking. "He has a good build. It would be suited to hard labor. While he strikes me as clearly virile, his looks are not quite suited to my tastes. Suggestions?"

"I could take him." From one of the other balconies, a man spoke up. Cain looked in that direction with a scowl. The man was lounging in his chair, one leg draped over the arm of his chair. His clothes were black leather, similar to those of the Palace Guards, but far more revealing, considering that his top was only constructed out of straps. He was smirking darkly down at Cain in a way that the blond didn't like. "I don't think he'd be that hard to break, in my possession."

"No one remains unbroken in your possession." The Queen teased, before pouting. "We have so much trouble keeping toys for you, since you tend to ruin them so quickly. All right, Zero, then--"

"Majesty."

The Queen's head turned at the interruption, Zero looking across the way to where the lead Medic remained standing in his own balcony. She smiled, almost tenderly. "Yes, my dear Ambrose?"

His dark eyes dropped from looking at her, fixing down on Cain. The blond locked onto that gaze, curious, as the man named Ambrose said quietly, "I would like to have him. Please."

"You, Ambrose?" Several of the others were looking towards the Medic in open astonishment, the Queen included. "But you have never selected a pet for yourself before. Does this man strike your fancy so much, darling?"

"Yes." Ambrose licked his lips quickly, face flushing as he looked back to the Queen. "I find him very attractive. There is something about him that appeals to me. I would like to have him, if you would grant him to me."

The Queen settled back to studying Cain, appraising him thoughtfully. Zero was glowering in Ambrose's direction, which the Medic ignored. Finally, the Queen nodded. "I will grant him to you under one condition, Ambrose."

"Anything, Highness." Ambrose breathed out. The way he sounded, Cain figured he probably would have thrown himself off the balcony if she asked it of him.

"You must give us a performance with your new pet. I am interested to see how you intend to handle him." She gestured towards Cain, before curling her hand over the arm of her chair.

Ambrose hesitated, before bowing swiftly. Cain saw him step towards the back of the balcony, not sure where the man had disappeared to. A few of the women had begun to giggle, the air becoming thick with something like anticipation. Cain wondered what they were getting so excited about. Then he looked down as he saw Ambrose walking into the ring of light where he was standing.

The man's hands reached for him, Cain taking a step back instinctively. But Ambrose merely stepped closer and put both hands at either side of Cain's head. Those dark eyes were intent on studying his face, Ambrose using that hold to draw the blond towards him. He stretched up, face coming within inches of Cain's, as he whispered faintly, "If you resist, she'll give you to Zero. I am your only ally here."

Then his mouth was upon the blond's, Cain founding himself being kissed by another man for the first time in his life. His mind was still processing Ambrose's words, while the Medic's warm lips moved against Cain's. He felt the man's fingertips curl in against his skull, Cain pulling back from the kiss long enough to whisper back, "What are you doing?"

"I'm expected to fuck you here in front of the others." Ambrose said quickly, then had to tighten his hold on Cain when that immediately made the man start to struggle again, Ambrose's face tense.

Zero spoke from above them, addressing the Queen. "Your Highness, I don't know that your Ambrose will be capable of handling a slave this willful."

Ambrose's eyes burned with anger at those words, though he did not turn his face away from Cain's. He hissed softly, "Either go along with it willingly or get it by force from Zero. Your choice, soldier."

Cain ceased his struggles at Ambrose's title for him, peering at the other man. Ambrose recognized that he was a Fighter? If Ambrose knew, then perhaps the Medic had been truthful in saying that he was Cain's only ally. He swallowed thickly, hating the situation, hating the humiliation that he was going to have to endure for these sadists. Cain tried to sound brave as he whispered. "What do I need to do?"

"Nothing." Ambrose's smile was melancholy. "Just try to relax. I will try to make it feel good. Let me do all the work."

Cain nodded. Ambrose then pressed another kiss to his mouth, this time allowing his hands to slide around to the back of Cain's neck, caressing the short blond hairs there. For his part, Cain tried not to freak out about what was happening to him. While he had heard rumors that some in the Palace held these kinds of tastes, it had seemed unreal to him that men would choose to couple with other men. Now he was expected to do just that sort of thing to satisfy the whims of a sadistic woman.

Ambrose's caresses spread across the planes of his shoulders, gloved fingers tracing lightly over the bones and muscles beneath that tan flesh. His lips forced Cain's apart, so that his tongue could invade the blond's mouth. Cain felt it exploring inside, hot and wet. As Ambrose's fingers danced down over the expanse of his chest, the blond was mortified to find himself responding to the ministrations.

The leather was slightly rough where it scraped over his nipples, Ambrose's thumbs rolling over the flesh, teasing it until it was hard, sending shivers down Cain's spine. Ambrose withdrew from the kiss in order to press his mouth to the hollow of Cain's throat, the blond shutting his eyes. Cain licked his lips, whispering unsteadily. "Take off the gloves."

"No.." Ambrose answered against his neck, before he straightened away from Cain's neck. His face angled down, eyes watching the passage of his hands as they slid down from Cain's chest, tracing his ribs. Cain's own eyes opened back up to slits and he was compelled to look down as well, to see the Medic caressing him.

When Ambrose wrapped a set of fingers around him, he was not quite hard yet. The Medic seemed to know a remedy for that, as he began to stroke over Cain's length between them. Cain gasped softly, chin falling forward against his chest. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been touched like this. He certainly didn't think it had felt this good. The leather caused a pleasurable friction against his sensitive flesh, adding to the sensations. Cain moaned softly.

"We can't see the show very well, Ambrose. Shift, if you would." The Queen's voice jarred Cain, making him nearly lose that erection.

Ambrose, however, did not let it falter. He stepped around to stand behind Cain, the warmth of his body pressed intimately to the blond's back. His hand resumed its grip from this new angle, stroking the man's length from behind him, working Cain's excitement back up. It was numbing his mind, making Cain not even care where they were, or who this was. He was forgetting that there was even an audience in the room, since his body's sole focus had become fixated on that hand and its skillful efforts.

Cain let his head fall back against the support of Ambrose's shoulder, the man's lips brushing underneath his chin as that hand grew more deliberate with its strokes, working him faster than before, as if reading the signs from Cain's body that indicated that the blond was close to release. Cain's weight was heavy where it sagged against the Medic, but the man did not let him fall. His other arm locked around the blond's waist to keep him upright as he worked.

Then Cain was crying out hoarsely, mouth open, as his release thundered through his body. He jerked against Ambrose, into the man's hand, until he was thoroughly spent. Ambrose kept the tremors going through his body, working him slower and slower, until Cain was limp. Only then did the man release his length, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck as he whispered to the blond, "Good boy. That should have satisfied her."

Ambrose's arm uncurled from around Cain's waist, letting the blond sink down to unsteady knees. He turned to look up to the Queen's balcony, an eyebrow lifting expectantly.

The Queen was nodding, her smile pleased. "Well done, Ambrose. Consider him yours to use as you please."

"Thank you, Highness." Ambrose bowed to her.

As an afterthought, the monarch added, "Though I feel that your pet needs some time in training with Zero first."

Ambrose tried to protest, yet she cut him off with a sweeping gesture of her hand. "No, no. I've decided it. This pet is still willful, and you are inexperienced in how to properly train him. It would distress me greatly if this pet were to rise against you and harm you in some fashion. He needs to be taught better manners first, so that I know my precious Ambrose will be safe."

She glanced sidelong in the direction of Zero's balcony. "Do you agree to help train Ambrose's pet for him, Zero?"

"Of course, Majesty." The man in question nodded, bowing towards her while still in his chair. "I would be more than delighted to train Ambrose's little ... pet." He smirked down at Ambrose, who Cain saw was glaring up at the man with open hostility.

The Queen nodded. "Very well. The Guards may escort Cain to the training pens. You may find him at your leisure, Zero. Now.. Bring in the next prisoner!"

A pair of Guards materialized out of the shadows, taking hold of Cain by either arm. The blond looked wildly towards Ambrose, who had clutched his hands close against his thin chest. He gave a subtle shake of his head to Cain, before murmuring, "I will come and visit you soon. Try to behave yourself until then."

Cain kept his eyes fixed on that remote figure, straining to keep sight of Ambrose over his shoulder, but the guards had him moving too quickly to clutch hold of that image for very long.