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He doesn’t gain a fucking inch.
“Where do you want him, boss?” Benny asks, him and Nathan both ignoring Maison’s struggles against the men holding him back.
Nathan tilts his head like he’s actually considering it, instead of like he’s known exactly where he’d have Maison put for years now. He jerks his chin towards the metal rack near the wall. “I still have a few questions for him. If he’s anything like his brother, a whip will get him to change his attitude.”
The men all love that, laughing and hooting and telling Maison they’ve seen this for themselves.
Maison starts spitting swear words and threats at him so fast they don’t even make sense.
“Alright, gentleman,” Nathan says, turning his back to where Benny is overseeing Maison’s attachment to the rack. He scans the crowd and openly winces like he feels guilty. “I know this is exciting, but I promise he’s not going anywhere anytime soon. Let’s all go back to our lives while I sort this out. Don’t forget we’re locked down and he might still have backup coming.”
The men all groan, but they’re in too high of spirits to fully complain. Nathan even catches Jason easily leaving without a complaint. He doesn’t know if it’s the promise of more to come later, or the reminder that they might still be in danger, or a little of both, but whatever it is, it works.
When it’s just Nathan, Benny, Rogers, Matthews, and Maison, Nathan turns back to the rack. Maison is shackled to it by his wrists, ankles, and waist. He’s facing away from Nathan, his front pressed against the rack. He’s shaking - maybe with rage, maybe with fear, maybe with something else entirely. Nathan casually strolls to the wall full of hanging tools and toys, assessing his options.
“Rogers, Matthews, you’re dismissed as well,” he tells a particularly brutal leather flogger. “Thank you for all your help. You will be rewarded.”
“Thank you, sir,” they say in unison before hurrying out the door.
The three of them might be alone now, but they can’t dare act like it. There’s no way they don’t have eavesdroppers out there. And they’ll expect Maison to look far worse than he does now by the end of the night.
Nathan grabs a slightly less brutal flogger, gripping it tight as he walks up to the rack.
Does it make Nathan a terrible person that he doesn’t feel even half the guilt right now that he feels whenever he has to hurt Carter?
“What are you doing here, Maison?”
“Fuck. You.”
Nathan flicks his wrist hard, the trestles hitting Maison’s skin with an unforgivingthwack. “Try that again.”
“You hard of hearing? Fuck. You.”
“I could go fuck your brother, if you’d like.” Nathan hits him again. And once more. “Maybe I should. Maybe I should go rape him bloody and tell him the whole time he could have been saved from it if only his brother would have cooperated.”
Maison hesitates before deflating against the rack. “Please don’t. Don’t hurt him.”
“What are you doing here?”
“What do you fucking think, asshole? I’m here for Carter.”
“Hmmm.” Nathan flicks his wrist, hitting him just for fun right across the backs of his thighs. “What if he doesn’t want to be rescued? Ever consider that? Maybe your baby brother likes my cock.”
Maison half-growls, half-screams, “Shut your fucking mouth!”
Nathan moves closer, wanting his hits to land harder. Maison wanted that when they came up with this plan - he wants his beating to be hard, fast, and then over, not drawn out to spare him pain.
The next hit is across Maison’s back, and the mark it leaves is bright red instead of dull pink.Better.
Nathan keeps hitting him, not stopping until Maison is resting heavily against the rack and struggling to breathe.
"Are you alone?"
"Yes," Maison chokes.
"If you're lying, I will kill him. Do you understand? I will kill Carter before your backup gets a chance to get inside. I'm asking you again - are you alone?"
Maison huffs a broken laugh. "Yes. They wouldn't fucking risk it. They told me he wasn't worth it."
