Touching Life by Vanessa Mullen
Blake's vision. His faith in a future where things were genuinely better and his certainty that it was possible to get there from here. That belief that was so tangible that it drew you in, made you believe if not in the vision, at least in the man holding it. As long as Blake held true to that vision, Avon had--
Blake moaned again, loud enough to snatch Avon from his dreams. He was twisting against his restraints, body moving in small shifting motions. The electrodes, black coated wire ending in gleaming metal tips, hung from a stand by Basra's side.
Blake shifted again, lost in some dream of his own. Whatever the dream was, it must have been a good one, because Blake was half-erect. Then again, it could have other origins. Fear could do that, make a man rigid from adrenalin alone.
Basra snapped his fingers. "Wakey wakey."
Blake woke with a start, jerking against the chest restraint and falling back again. His breathing was ragged and uneven. It seemed to take him a moment to relate to his surroundings. His eyes wandered until they fixed on Avon.
"Avon," he said softly, "don't do this to me. Not amex. In the name of whatever you hold sacred, not amex."
Basra rubbed his hands together in glee. "Perfect!"
"Why amex?" Avon demanded, as if he didn't know.
"You'll find out." Basra reached out and laid a hand on Blake's naked abdomen. Blake flinched from the touch. As Basra turned the touch into a long lingering caress that curved around Blake's loins and skirted his genitals, Blake began to shiver. His erection firmed even as Avon watched, his cock growing full and hard.
"It won't hurt you; it's only an aphrodisiac."
Blake shuddered and gasped for air as Basra circled a finger around his nipples. "A prelude to rape you mean. They find it amusing to try and make you beg for it."
Basra grinned. "Natural whores, all of them." He slid an expert hand down Blake's leg, moulding his hand to the calf muscles and feeling their strength as Blake struggled to escape the touch. "We're virtually doing a public service, if you stop to think about it. Really ought to charge them."
"That's obscene."
"You think so?" He cupped Blake's testicles, rolled them in the palms of his hands until they were tight and round. Blake clenched his fists tighter and stared rigidly at the ceiling. His penis strained in the same direction, equally rigid.
He'd played this game a hundred times with Servalan. I'm your prisoner. You can do whatever you want with me. Make me desperate for sex. Make me want to kiss your arse, do whatever you say. But this was the reality and it was different.
"Stop."
"Not now. Another ten minutes of this and he'll come crawling to me, begging me to fuck his arse."
"No."
"Something a little more direct then." He took the electrodes from their stand. "Look at me, Blake. You know what these are. You know what they'll do. You also know what I want. Names. Contacts. Meeting places."
Avon watched in fascination as the electrodes slowly approached Blake's rampant cock. Blake's breathing was quick and shallow. The hair on his arms and legs stood on end. The electrodes paused in the air, a few centimetre's away from their target.
"Give me a name."
The merest shake of the head indicated Blake's denial. In a quick, delicate motion, Basra made contact. Blake came in a jerking, shuddering scream and passed out.
The silence left in the wake of the scream had a hollow quality all of its own. Avon could hear the pounding of his heart, the flow of the blood coursing through his arteries, the irregular sound of his own breathing. Blake's fear was infectious. He wasn't sure how much longer he could stay.
Basra fastidiously wiped off a drop of Blake's come that had landed on his overall. "He'll come round in a few minutes. The dose I gave him should be good for anything up to an hour, so we'll be able to start again as soon as he comes round. You're doing very well. You've got him half-way to believing that you're on his side. Fight me. Encourage him to confess to you and avoid the pain."
He was doing well was he? Not half as well as Blake was.
How many other times had Blake been in situations like this? Twice that he knew of, but that didn't mean there hadn't been more. What kind of courage did it take to carry on fighting, knowing that something like this might lie ahead? Had Blake expected to be captured on this occasion? Could he himself have ever faced his experiences at the Federation's hand if he hadn't known that Tarrant and the others were keeping a round the clock watch, ready to pull him out the moment he called for help?
He ran a finger down Blake's unconscious cheek, "Blake," he said softly, "remember Liberator? Remember how we used to sit and argue at night? You'd tell me your plans, and I'd pick holes in them. You'd rework them and run them past the battle computers until you got something that had a remote chance of actually working? Then I'd tell you that you were a fool and that you'd get us all killed -- but I followed you anyway because I loved you."
"It'll be a lot more effective if you tell him when he's awake."
Blake shivered and the pattern of his breathing changed slightly. His eyes blinked open, haunting pools of fear and emptiness.
Basra's lips twisted. "Going to tell him now?"
"Tell him what?" Avon snarled.
Basra addressed Blake. "You should have woken up sooner. You just missed a rather touching declaration of undying love."
"I said nothing of the kind."
"You forget, the recorders run permanently in here." He walked over to a small computer screen set in the wall. "Keywords 'remember Liberator'. Replay from that point until change of speaker.
He heard his own words repeated to him and boiled in impotent fury. Worse even than Basra's mocking look was the expression on Blake's face. Hope blossomed there for a moment, bright as a new born star, then died away to be replaced by black despair.
Basra looked at him and gave the faintest of nods. "I think I'll leave you two alone together for a while."
Avon willed Basra to spontaneously combust, but Basra simply smoothed a crease out of his overall and left. Even more irritating, Avon knew with total certainty that Basra would be watching the monitors.
He drew up a small stool to the table and sat down close by Blake's head. "Tell me," he said. "Tell me and let this be over. I don't want to hurt you any more."
"You know I can't."
"Why not? It's just names, just words."
"Those names are people. People who trust me. People who will end up here if I betray them."
"Look, you know Basra will get it out of you eventually. Tell me now and spare yourself."
"Spare me, or spare you?"
He acknowledged the truth of that with a grimace.
Blake fidgeted, trying to shift his position without success. He exhaled, a deep long breath. "How big a dose did he give me?"
Avon didn't want to reply. Basra's intent was all too obvious: make love to him while he's helpless. Bring him close to you. Betray him.
"How much," Blake insisted.
"Enough for another hour."
Blake winced. "Do you want to know something funny," he said after a moment's pause.
"Tell me."
"You're my Anna Grant."
Avon slapped him hard across the face. "Don't you ever..."
"Ever what? Suggest that I loved you and you betrayed me?"
"There's no comparison. I went through five days of hell for Anna."