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Text

Shattering

Crossed out - Continued from ch.9 - Prologue

“Nothing to clean this time, sir?” Lucas bit when he was dismissed from Nero’s office after a relatively quiet evening. Yeah. He was still sour about having to clean up his own blood that Nero punched out of him last time.

Nero, unfortunately, was always sour.

He didn’t even deign to give him an answer. A hint of exasperation crossed his expression and he replied in his own way. He reached for the glass of water on his desk and threw it with all his force at Lucas.

It flew just past his face and Lucas flinched back hard. “Whoa!”

He turned just in time, throwing his arms in front of his face to avoid a second assail of splintered glass as it shattered against the door.

Dumbfounded, he looked at Nero, to the thousand pieces on the floor and back, mouth slightly agape, shock pumping through his veins.

“There is, actually,” Nero merely said, calm as if that outburst never happened.

Lucas reared up for an ‘are you out of your fucking mind?!’ but before he could even open his mouth, Nero glared up at him, instantly shutting down any back talk.

“Clean that up,” he said, maintaining eye contact. “Before I’ll make you kneel on the shards for the rest of the evening.”

His fight left him in a laboured exhale, his shoulders relaxing. “I’ll… be right back. Sir,” he said haltingly. He carefully stepped around the glass, splinters crackling under his feet. Moments later – now knowing where to collect cleaning materials – he returned and sank to the ground, scraping glass into a dustpan.

Nero watched him over his folded hands. “If I hear so much as a crunch under my boot later…”

Yeah, yeah, Lucas forced back, you’d smash my face in the remains, yeah I know. “Yes, sir,” he replied instead, dutifully, only the barest hint of resentment in his voice. He crept over the floor, reaching with the brush to the far corners catching every splinter of glass that skittered away, careful not to place a knee or rest a hand on the floor.

As he stood the glass jingled against the plastic dustpan and he shot Nero a glance that spelled, ‘satisfied?!’.

Nero merely replied with a curt nod up. Dismissed.

The next evening he didn’t bother with niceties as he entered the office. “What’s on the agenda for this ev—"

Nero barely pointed a finger to his lips and Lucas instantly fell silent.

He watched as Nero languidly pushed himself from his chair. Heard the leather creak, the tires squeak against the floor, the groan of wood when Nero leaned on the desk as he walked around it. Slow footsteps, heavy thumps, a squeal of rubber against the floor, and as he approached, he took a final step almost as in slow motion. And Lucas heard a very feint crushing sound under his boot.

He froze up. Swallowed.

Nero noticed. “That means I don’t have to explain. Good.” He stepped back, pressed a finger to the floor and straightened up again, brushing his finger almost right under Lucas nose. A tiny glass crystal perched on his fingertip.

The tension in the room was palpable. In fact, Lucas was sure it radiated from his rigid frame. Not a word was spoken and he was sure the thundering of his heart could be heard loud and clear. He knew what this meant. But hope still had a tight grasp on him and he didn’t dare shatter the tension, because speaking out didn’t have the most amazing results lately.

Nero moved slowly, eyes on Lucas’, and reached out and picked up the empty vase on the filing cabinet next to them. Probably prepared this afternoon because Lucas had no memory of any decorations brightening this gloomy room.

He let the glass fall. Lucas closed his eyes in resignation at the following crash.

The shards pooled under him, larger than the ones from yesterday where the force behind Nero’s throw had pretty much obliterated everything larger than a pebble. Now, sharp pieces poked up, ready to dig into the skin of anyone careless enough to slice a finger along the edges.

“Get on your knees.” Nero rested his hand on his belt, near the baton.

“You can’t—” Lucas started in a feeble voice but fell silent when the hand casually slid over to rest on the handle of the baton. This was going to happen. And if Nero were to strike him, he’d crash down right into the glass. Maybe, if he was cautious and lowered slowly, his trousers would take the brunt.

“You seem very sure about what I can and can’t do.”

“Yeah, I have this little reference guide. It’s called the law.”

The bit of fire flared up but instantly quashed out again as he looked at the pointy spikes under him.

He took a step back, attempting to do as he was told and sink to his knees, just not, you know, right there. But Nero grabbed him by the collar, held him firmly where he was and simply said, “No.”

Lucas swallowed again. Then bent his knees and slowly, right under Nero’s expectant gaze, lowered himself down. Very carefully he rested his knees on the pieces and gradually let more weight shift forward. He winced, but luckily the glass didn’t fully pierce skin. All he felt was an uncomfortable pressure – that would probably turn worse and worse if Nero kept him here until ten again – and light pricks against his skin as the glass dug through the heavy cotton of his trousers.

Larger shards snapped under the weight, smaller pieces merely crunched uncomfortably under bone, and luckily the splinters couldn’t get through the rough cotton to nestle into sensitive skin. His shoulders firmly lodged high up into his neck, as if he would somehow weigh more and put more pressure on the glass if he were to lower them. But he slowly started to relax. There was no blood, merely a few tiny pinpricks in his trousers and while it hurt, it wasn’t as bad as he’d thought.

He could do this. As long as he stayed still and was careful.

The challenge in his eyes must’ve been visible as he glared up.

All of a sudden, Nero took a firm step towards Lucas and in one swift movement pulled his baton from his belt, aimed a backhanded strike straight at his face and—

Lucas recoiled hard. “No!” He threw his hands up, scooted back on his knees. Cried out as the glass dug harder into his knees as he braced himself. A brush of air that signaled the force of Nero’s blow swiped at his cheekbone. But the blow didn’t land.

His eyes squeezed shut in anticipation, in pain, and he slowly peeked out when he wasn’t blasted away. The baton hovered right in front of his face. A shivery exhale of relief hesitantly brushed over his lips. But the relief was a short one as a sharp pain stabbed into his knees.

Nero merely put the baton back on his belt, walked back to his seat, and slid the piece of paper to the front of his desk. “You know the drill.”

Lucas bared his teeth in a grimace. His eyes watered and he slowly pulled himself back upright on his knees. This time he did feel a wetness seep into his trouser leg and a sharp pressure that didn’t let up. With each micro movement he felt the shards stab deeper into his skin. Every wince only made things worse. And if that wasn’t enough, he could already feel the familiar numbness creep up.

His previous strategy of shifting his legs as much as possible was no option this time. He was sitting in a pool of glass and he could already see long shards precariously close waiting to snap under his weight and bury into his legs. Leaning forward on hands and knees was definitely out of the question. Keep his hands off the floor at all times.

The static in his legs mingled with dull throbbing pressure of dozens of unyielding crystals poking against unyielding bone.

“Pick up the pieces around you—no. Stay like that. When you’re done, then you can get up,” Nero said after half an hour in an unexpected display of mercy.

Or, well, was it?

In his eagerness Lucas bent forward and not only stabbed his knees even further, but also sliced his finger open when he picked up a shard and winced at the same time. It jingled back against the hard floor and he took a deep breath. His legs were already so numb, if he wasn’t careful he’d fall right into the broken pieces. Easy does it, slowly does it.

He carefully picked up the larger pieces first, gathered them into the unbroken base, and looked at Nero when all that remained were the pieces smaller than the tip of his finger. Nero shook his head.

A frustrated growl seeped into his exhale. He wiped the blood away, before he’d have to clean that off the floor too, and pressed his fingers into the tiny shards, picking them up one by one.

It still took him half an hour. Only his muffled grunts and small clinking noises of the crystals falling on glass broke the silence. He skidded across the floor, the pieces under his knees following right along or finding fresh undented patches of skin to bruise as he inched back and forth to reach the pieces further away from him.

Only when mere splinters remained, Nero nodded and allowed him to get up. To get the dustpan again.

Straightening his knees felt like all muscles snapped like those crackle sticks and he couldn’t help a hiss. His trousers weren’t soaked but there were distinctive red stains welling up from the inside out.

He resisted the urge to rest his hands on his thighs and bent forward, stretching his muscles. There were probably still sharp pieces stuck in the fabric. At least he didn’t have to do this on bare feet in his boxers. So to make sure Nero didn’t have a reason to make him walk on fresh glass tomorrow, he swiped the entire floor extra well.

He didn’t look to Nero for approvement, just kept working in silence, prolonging his own torture with squats and strains. And when he was finally done, the word of mercy was delivered in an unimpressed baritone:

“Dismissed.”

Continued here

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#whump #whump writing #prison whump #sadistic whumper #forced to kneel #stress position #kneeling on glass #crossed out #my writing #I think this is the last chap in the office shenanigans arc #not sure which chapter is up next... maybe I'll make a poll #also give it up for chapter 10! Whooo it's not going as fast as I wanted but 'm glad I started with the series

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