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Martin has always known he was unwanted. It’s the hard, ugly truth at the core of his existence. Part of him always thought it would change if he ignored it long enough, or if he made himself so useful he could at least be needed, which was close enough to being wanted that he could pretend. He kept his mother’s indifference truth tucked away with the other uncomfortable truths of his life—his lack of attractiveness, his awkwardness, his inability to keep people close.
Martin has always known he was unwanted. Or at least, he thought he knew. But he didn’t understand. Experiencing his mother’s rage as she saw him, feeling it burn in her chest and make her clench her hands until the nails gouged bloody furrows in her palms—it’s not just indifference, or irritation. She hates him. Her own son. The one person who stayed when she grew more sullen and more withdrawn, when her friends stopped visiting, when she stopped returning anyone’s calls. She sees him, his plain, too-round face and flabby body, his clumsiness and his forgetfulness and his stupidity, and she despises him.
What kind of person is so repulsive his own mother can’t love him? What kind of person tries twice as hard to make himself likable, only to be less than nothing to her? How could anyone love him when she can’t?
The pain of realization is so sharp and encompassing that he stops even pretending to engage with Elias, huddling on the floor with his arms wrapped around himself. He doesn’t remember dropping to his knees. His sobs are loud and hoarse and messy.
He was prepared for Elias to prod at his silly crush on Jon, on his poor performance at work—even on his pathetic excuse for a love life. He’s used to those humiliations, because he’s heard the facts over and over: he’s not good enough, not attractive enough to be wanted, especially with someone like Jon. Jon is so far out of his league that it doesn’t even bother him anymore. But he wasn’t prepared for this.
Dimly, he hears the sound of the door locking, but he doesn’t bother paying attention. It doesn’t matter if Elias tries to kill him. It’s not like Martin can stop him.
“Oh, Martin,” Elias says gently.
Martin’s head jerks up, and he realizes Elias is far too close. He scrubs his face with the sleeve of his jumper, tears still rolling down his cheeks, and glares at Elias as defiantly as he can.
“All this acting out. It isn’t like you,” Elias continues.
Martin flinches as a hand moves toward his face, but Elias doesn’t hit him. Instead his hand settles on Martin’s head, gently stroking his hair. Martin’s too shocked to do anything but stare bleakly at his boss.
“I’ve never wanted to hurt you, but you forced my hand.”
“Right,” Martin says flatly. “Let me guess, you have my best interests at heart?”
“It may be difficult to believe, but I do. You must understand, I know you better than anyone else has ever bothered to,” Elias explains in a patient tone. “Better than your mother, or your father, or any of the men you let fuck you. Like the neighbor you had when you were fifteen and they were going to cut off your heating—Richard, wasn’t it?”
Martin stuffs his fist against his mouth to stop the whimper that wants to rise from his throat. Elias grabs his wrist and forces it away.
“Don’t cover that pretty face,” he chides. “We were talking about Richard. You know, he always loved chubby boys. And a chubby boy with a cunt—well, that was even better.”
His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “He kept the photos, by the way. I know you were wondering.”
Bile rises in Martin’s throat, and for a moment, he thinks he’s going to vomit all over Elias’s immaculately polished oxfords.
“Richard’s predilections aside, I know you,” Elias continues. “Certainly better than your colleagues. You can’t think they see you as a friend. Whatever silly thoughts you’ve been having about ‘chosen family’ or bonding through trauma, deep down, you know they don’t care about you. Not beyond what they can get from you.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Martin snaps.
Elias’s gaze is pitying. “I think you try not to know it. Why else would you do something this stupid and reckless?”
“You don’t know anything about me!”
Elias crouches down so he’s at eye level at Martin. Martin’s always hated his eyes. They don’t look right in his face, his irises the pale gray of stones at the bottom of a river, his pupils unnaturally wide.
“I know you want to be a good boy,” Elias says softly.
Martin’s face twists with anger. “Fuck you!”
Martin isn’t expecting the slap, barely realizes it’s happening until his head is jerked to the side and his cheek stings with the humiliating impact. Elias cups his chin with cool fingers, forcing him to make eye contact.
“I’ve clearly been lax in my discipline. I see that now. How can I expect you to behave when I haven’t made my expectations clear? How can I expect you to be anything more than a silly, spoiled slut?”
Elias shoves him hard, and he lands awkwardly on his back. Martin tries to get back to his feet, but Elias is stronger than he has any right to be, pinning him to the floor with one hand as he loosens his tie.
“What are you doing?” Martin wants to sound defiant, but his voice cracks.
“I suppose it’s not your fault. You’ve never had a strong authority figure to guide you, to mold you.” Elias’s lips curve into a smirk. “Perhaps it would help to see me as a father figure.”
Martin starts to struggle, but an image hits him: his mother watching him talk with Richard. Richard is standing too close, and he leans in closer to whisper something to Martin. Martin watches his younger self swallow, sick with fear, before he finally nods. Richard’s hand rests on the small of Martin’s back as he leads him to his flat.
She knew, Martin realizes. She knew, but she didn’t care. He always thought he was making a sacrifice for someone who would save him if she could. The whole time, he told himself that at least she wouldn’t have to worry. He tries to curl in on himself, as if he could crush his grief between the folds of his body, but there’s something heavy on top of him.
His eyes fly open to see Elias straddling his waist as he knots his tie around Martin’s wrists. It’s blue silk with an abstract design, like hundreds of eyes staring at him mockingly.
“This is really being too kind to you,” Elias muses. “We both know how you love being restrained.”
“Shut up,” Martin says shrilly. “Shut up, shut up, shut—”
Elias’s hand comes down hard on his throat, making him gag. He pushes down, his pale eyes locked on Martin’s with the same cold pity as before.
“You’re not listening. I’m teaching you this lesson for your own benefit. The least you could do is pay attention.”
Martin writhes under Elias’s weight, fighting for air as a hand reaches for his belt. It’s useless; Elias keeps him pinned effortlessly, sliding his belt out of its loops. Martin’s lungs burn for air. He’s starting to grow lightheaded when Elias finally lets up. Relief floods his body once he can finally breathe again, filling his lungs with big, greedy gasps, only to feel the worn leather wrap around his throat.
“This doesn’t need to be difficult, Martin. If you behave, I can make your punishment short and sweet. Otherwise…” Elias tugs the belt just tight enough to be uncomfortable.
“Wh-what…” Martin swallows hard. “What do you want me to do?”
Elias smiles. “Turn over.”
Martin stares at Elias for a moment, weighing his options. Fighting hasn’t worked. Escape isn’t an option. That just leaves humoring Elias for now, and hoping that whatever he asks for isn’t worse than the Unknowing. Elias gives Martin just enough room to awkwardly shuffle onto his stomach. Martin can feel his gaze on his back, as heavy as a physical touch. It’s almost worse than looking him in the eye.
“You can be good,” Elias praises. “You’ll find that things are much easier for you when you behave. I want that for you, Martin.”
His hand settles on the back of Martin’s neck, just above the leather belt, and squeezes. Martin’s heart races as the hand trails down his back, finally reaching for his trousers. It takes him a moment to realize what’s happening.
“S-stop! No!”
The belt tightens around Martin’s throat, cutting him off.
“Don’t pretend this isn’t exactly what you wanted,” Elias chides. “How many times have you dreamed of being disciplined in this very office?”
Martin’s face flushes hotly. Elias isn’t wrong; a lot of his fantasies have taken place in Jon’s office, even if Elias was never part of them. The belt constricts around his throat, and he struggles to break free, but he can’t get any leverage.
Elias pauses with Martin’s trousers halfway down his hips. “Ah. These are…quite adorable.”
Martin wants to sink through the floor when he remembers what boxers he’s wearing: pink cartoon penguins. He can hear his mother’s voice in his head. So childish. When are you going to grow up?
He tries to squirm away, but Elias pulls the belt so hard he’s forced to arch his neck. Useless gasps spill from his lips as he fights for air. Elias doesn’t stop until he goes limp. More tears spill down Martin’s face, sobs choking him even as he fights to catch his breath. Elias pins him down with a hand on the small of his back, still gripping the belt as he pulls Martin’s pants and trousers down to his knees. The tile floor is cold against Martin’s bare thighs. A hand brushes against his arse, making him flinch.
“Well. There’s certainly enough here to work with,” Elias comments, running his hands down Martin’s cheeks and squeezing them firmly. “I expect you to keep count.”
Confusion washes over Martin. “What do you—?”
A stinging slap comes down hard on his right cheek, making him yelp. He’s too shocked to respond until Elias gives him a harsh pinch.
“Martin,” he says warningly.
“O-one,” Martin stammers.
Elias strokes the spot he slapped. “Good boy.”
Warmth blooms in Martin’s chest, sudden and unwanted. He shakes his head in an attempt to force it away, and the second blow falls on the opposite side, just as hard.
“T-two!” Martin manages.
The third and fourth blows come one after another, barely giving Martin time to count. Elias pushes his thighs apart.
“Just look at you. You’re already wet.” His fingers trace Martin’s slit, making him shudder. “Clearly I’m being too gentle.”
Another slap rains down, then another. The pain is bright and hot, drowning out the rest of what’s happening. He tries to squirm away, but the pressure of the belt on his neck keeps him still. Fresh tears stream down his face as the pain turns from stinging to a deep, bruising ache. Elias takes to striking the same places over again, until finally Martin cries, “Please! Stop!”
Elias rakes his nails down Martin’s sore skin, sending a sharp wave of pain through him. “Ask me properly,” he orders.
“Please, Elias!”
“I don’t think you need your employer right now. I think you need someone else. A father figure.” Elias says, slapping him right over the scratches and making him swear and bite his lip. “Why don’t you ask Daddy to help you?”
Martin shakes his head, stomach roiling at the idea. Elias clucks his tongue. The sharp slap lands across his slit, making him howl with pain. He tries to curl away, but the belt cuts off his air, trapping him in place. A blow lands directly on his cock, a bright and sudden pain that overwhelms him too much to move. The next slap has him sobbing with what little air he has left.
“You can end this any time you like, Martin,” Elias tells him.
“S-stop!” Martin sobs. “Daddy, I’m sorry, please!”
The words bring a wave of shame and revulsion, but Elias stops immediately, gathering Martin into his arms and shushing him while he cries. Something like gratitude washes over Martin before he forces it down. His arse and cunt still sting from the blows. He realizes it’s the first time he’s been held in far too long. It shouldn’t feel soothing.
“There, there, pet. I’m sorry I had to do that. I only want what’s best for you.” Elias kisses his forehead. “Of course, you’ll still need to make it up to me.”
“H-how?” Martin manages between sobs.
“I’m sure we can think of something,” Elias says. “Why don’t we get you more comfortable?”
Elias unbuttons Martin’s shirt with deft hands, then pulls down the zipper on his binder, letting his breasts spill out.
“Isn’t that a lovely sight?” Elias asks. His eyes stay locked on Martin’s body, greedily drinking in every detail as moves to sit in Jon’s chair. “Come here.”
Martin’s face grows hot. He’s nearly naked, on his knees with his trousers around his ankles and his hands bound in front of him. There’s no way to get to Elias that isn’t extremely humiliating. The look in Elias’s eye tells him that resisting will only make it worse, so he does his best to shuffle on his knees, acutely aware of how the motion makes his chest and thighs jiggle. He stops just short of the chair, but Elias beckons him closer.
Elias is hard. Martin can see the outline of his erection distorting the fabric of his trousers. Bile rises in Martin’s throat—this is what turns Elias on. Hurting him. Humiliating him. A hand sinks into his hair, pulling his head into Elias’s lap.
“Now, how do you think you can make this up to me?” Elias asks. “It’s one thing to punish you, but I need to know how truly sorry you are.”
Martin’s eyes squeeze shut.
“Well, Martin? Do you have any ideas?”
Martin doesn’t want to hurt anymore. He doesn’t want to know the things Elias can put in his head.
“Maybe you need another lesson,” Elias says.
“No!” Martin cries. “I—I don’t need another lesson.”
Swallowing his pride, Martin opens his mouth and licks Elias through the fabric. Elias’s hand tightens in his hair.
“Interesting choice. I suppose I’ll allow it. If you can do an adequate job.”
Don’t you already know? Martin wants to snap, but instead he presses the flat of his tongue against the outline of Elias’s cock. The fabric is uncomfortably dry but thin, and soon it’s wet enough for him to slide his lips against it, sealing his mouth around the tip of Elias's cock and sucking.
“You really are eager to please.” Elias almost sounds fond, his fingers stroking through Martin’s hair. “Tell me what you want.”
Rage burns in Martin’s chest. Elias has already taken enough from him without making him ask for more. Before he can think better of it, he snaps, “I want you to stop.”
Elias sighs. “Oh, Martin. You were doing so well.”
Before Martin can manage a retort, Elias pulls the belt taut around his throat, yanking him off balance. With his free hand, Elias opens the desk, rummaging through it for a moment before retrieving something small. Martin gasps for air, face pressed to Elias’s thigh as his head starts to spin.
“Perhaps this will remind you of your place,” Elias says, reaching down to cup one of Martin’s breasts.
Something bites painfully hard into his nipple, and he tries to scream, but there’s no air. There’s an equally cruel pinch on the other side. His chest heaves to take in air that won’t come. His vision is starting to grow dark around the edges when Elias finally loosens the belt.
For the first few moments, Martin is too focused on sucking in lungfuls of air to realize what Elias has done. Then he catches sight of the shining metal: Jon’s binder clips.
“Now, have you thought about what you want?” Elias asks. His hand still holds the end of the belt.
Martin’s never been good at dirty talk. He doesn’t like talking about sex, even sex he wants. It’s always been easier to just let people do what they like. That way they at least have a reason to stay. He swallows hard. “I want to…to use my mouth on you,” he manages. His tits are still stinging from the clips.
“You’ll need to be more specific,” Elias says, pinching another binder clip between his fingers.
An image flashes across Martin’s mind: his breasts covered in dozens of clips arranged in symmetrical patterns, the skin flushed red. The same clips on his thighs, his labia, even his cock. He shudders, unsure if the image came from him or Elias.
“Please, Daddy, let me suck your cock,” he whispers.
He hears a sharp intake of breath. Sick fuck.
“Oh, pet,” Elias murmurs. “I could never deny you.”
Martin doesn’t want to look while Elias takes out his cock, but he can’t stop himself. His shaft is slim, a little longer than average, with a curve to the underside, the head flushed an angry red compared to his pale skin. Martin isn’t surprised to find the hair at the base is neatly trimmed. He pauses, unwilling to take the next step, but Elias urges him closer. His stomach lurches as he leans in to wrap his lips around the head. On instinct, he glances upward to find Elias watching him intently.
“Come, now. There’s no need to be shy.”
It’s just a cock, Martin tells himself. Just like any other he’s had in his mouth. He knows how to make it feel good, how to tuck his teeth behind his lips, how to suck. He knows how to use his hands to stroke the parts that don’t fit in his mouth, but his hands are bound, and he doesn’t want to touch Elias anyway. He doesn’t want to know what Elias smells like, what he tastes like, but it’s all he can think of right now.
Martin must be doing a decent job, because Elias groans, pulling him closer. Martin gags, but he’s already off-balance; there’s no choice but to swallow around the head of Elias’s cock, fighting back tears. At least if he does a good job, it will be over soon. There’s no way Elias can get hard again before someone comes to check on them.
Unless Elias doesn’t care if they got caught. The thought sends a chill through him. Would he even stop? Or would he get off on being watched?
Martin can’t let that happen. He sucks harder, running his tongue along the underside of Elias’s cock. Elias moans, thrusting deeper into his mouth.
“Your enthusiasm is commendable,” Elias comments, fisting both hands in Martin’s hair to pull him closer.
Martin can’t pull back, can’t steady himself with his hands bound; all he can do is take it, choking and struggling to breathe between thrusts. His world narrows down to Elias’s cock in his mouth, to his spasming throat and his need to breathe. Tears stream down his face. If he can just get Elias to come, it will all be over. If—
Elias pulls him back by the hair, letting him pant against his thigh. He’s a mess, tears and snot and flushed cheeks, but Elias doesn’t seem to care.
“You’ve been so good for me,” Elias praises. “I believe you’ve earned a reward.”
Elias hauls him up, shoving him face-down on Jon’s desk. It’s not until he nudges Martin’s feet apart that he realizes what he intends to do. Panic floods his chest.
“N-no, don’t—”
Martin feels the slick, bare head of Elias’s cock slide against the lips of his cunt before pushing inside. An image invades his mind: himself, swollen and pregnant. Everyone around him knowing exactly what happened. Bile rises in his throat
“Fuck, you’re tight,” Elias groans. He rolls his hips, and Martin stifles a gasp as he hits a sensitive spot. He can’t stop it the second time, and by the third, he lets out a whimper.
“You see, Martin, I do know you,” Elias tells him. “I know what you like, even if you choose to deny it.”
His hand slips down to rub Martin’s cock, making him groan, hips bucking into the pressure. Once he realizes what he’s done, he pulls back, but that only brings Elias deeper.
“I’m willing to let you come, but only if you ask nicely,” Elias says.
“I’m not going to do that,” Martin protests.
“Is that so?” Elias shifts his angle just slightly, making Martin swear and clench around him. “If you come without permission, there will be consequences.” He reaches down to thumb Martin’s clamped nipples. Martin cries out in pain, arching against the desk.
Elias drives in hard and deep, setting a brutal pace that quickly leaves Martin overwhelmed. Each thrust sends sparks up his spine, leaving his knees weak. Worse, Elias keeps stroking his cock. Tension builds low in Martin’s belly.
“St-stop,” Martin begs, attempting to squirm away.
Elias squeezes his cock. “I’m beginning to think you want another punishment. Perhaps in front of your little friends.”
“No, no, no—”
“Then ask nicely,” Elias demands. He pulls Martin up by the hips, finding an angle that makes him howl.
“P-please, Elias!” Martin sobs. “Please let me come!”
“Not good enough,” Elias dismisses, not even slowing down.
“F-fuck—” Martin takes a deep breath, trying to drown out the onslaught. “P-please, I need to come so badly!”
“You can do better.”
Martin bites his lip hard. “I—please, Daddy, it feels so good. I’m so close, please, I can’t take it!”
Elias’s hips stutter. “Do it,” he growls, fingers grinding against Martin’s cock.
Martin wails as his orgasm crashes over him, his spine arching as he spasms around Elias’s cock and soaks the desk under him. Elias’s thrusts grow ragged and uneven, but he doesn’t stop rubbing his cock, even when he starts squirming away. The onslaught is relentless. Another orgasm tears through him, making him sob with overstimulation as Elias finally spills inside him. Martin squeezes his eyes shut and tries to quell the panic threatening to rise inside him.
Elias’s lips brush the back of his neck, and he shudders.
“Now, I think we can expect better behavior from you in the future,” he says as he pulls out, leaving Martin aching and empty. “Ah. I almost forgot.”
Elias tugs off the binder clips, and Martin nearly screams as blood flows back into his abused nipples. As much as they hurt going on, the pain is worse now. He distantly registers Elias loosening the tie from his wrists. By the time Martin looks up, Elias is smiling, his cock already tucked away. He barely has a hair out of place.
“You have two minutes before Melanie returns. I suggest you compose yourself, unless you want her to know she’s working with a whore.”
Elias leans in close. “And if you ever burn a statement again, we’ll both know exactly what you’re asking for.”
With that, he leaves Martin to pull what's left of himself together with shaking hands.
Martin lets out a bitter laugh. At the very least, he knows Elias was too distracted to notice what was happening in his own office. That’s a victory Elias can’t take from him.