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Dick slowly opened his eyes.
He blinked rapidly, trying to adjust his eyes to the dark room, but to no avail. He attempted to move, no luck there either. His limbs were tightly trapped: He couldn't move at all. From the cold around his wrists, he deduced it was iron shackles. Being able to feel them around his wrists meant that they were too tight. He wouldn't be able to escape out of these.
He tugged on them again, trying to determine whether or not he could at least break them, but again, no such luck. He could not even move an inch. Still, though, the binds made a loud noise. His clothes were taken off, even his underwear. He felt slightly cold.
He heard steps moving away and a door opening. Then, silence again.
He closed his eyes again.
One.
Two.
Three.
Breathe in.
One.
Two.
Three.
Breath out.
He had to calm himself.
He kept his eyes closed and focused on his hearing. Nothing could be heard.
He gave up and tried to think.
Where was he?
There was not even a beam of light. He couldn't see if he was in a cell, a room or a shed. He couldn't determine how big this place was and he could most definitely not determine possible escape routes.
Think. Think.
Batman taught him about situations like this. He must not panic. He needs to be logical about it.
What had stood out since he woke up? Sounds, smells, images.
He heard steps before. They seemed familiar. Who was it? What did they remind him?
Think. Think.
His mind felt fuzzy, probably from whatever they used to bring him there. He couldn't remember.
The steps could be heard again, this time approaching him. What were they? He must know.
In the dark, distant part of his mind, a blurry memory appeared.
Dick had been staying in the manor for a few weeks, when he had a nightmare about his parent's death. He screamed and screamed, but no one came. He shot up from the bed, with a startling cry, his cheeks wet with tears.
He rushed out the door and barged into his guardian's room, before he could think about it twice. Bruce was there with a naked woman, chained onto the bed, her backside facing him. Dick could hear her sobbing. He held a whip on his hand. Bruce turned to look at him and Dick took a few steps back.
"What are you doing here?" he growled, harshly grasping Dick's arm.
Dick started shaking, now fully awake.
"I-I had a nightmare. I'm sorry sir, it won't happen again." Bruce grunted and dragged him to his room, tucking him in bed. He seemed to be furious.
Dick was terrified. He held his breath until he was sure that Bruce was out the door.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The memory turned blurry again.
It faded.
What had happened next?
He had completely erased that memory from his mind. Why?
The steps. Bruce's steps.
But were they? He had trouble remembering.
Bruce was usually quiet when moving. Too quiet. The loud steps couldn't be him, just as this memory couldn't be true. He wouldn't have simply forgotten it if it was, would he?
Whatever they gave him, it messed with his mind. He couldn't trust it for now.
He moved to simpler things. What was the last thing he remembered?
He was in the manor. He was fighting with Bruce. They were yelling at each other, Bruce kicked his desk and a glass fell. Dick stormed out of there, screaming that he couldn't spend another minute in there. That he was too controlling. He went to his room and got out a bad, throwing clothes in.
Then, nothing.
He sighed. He was getting nowhere. Where had he gone after he had left? Had he left?
He was forced out of these thoughts when he heard loud footsteps once more, the same as before. They got louder and louder, approaching. Dick could feel his heart beating faster, a wave of terror passing through him.
A light was turned on.
He quickly snapped his eyes shut, unable to handle the sudden brightness. The only thing that could be heard was his rapid breathing and keys, juggling.
He slowly opened his eyes again, tearing up. When he got used to the light, he looked at his captor, who had just entered.
The only thing he could make out was that he wore an ankle-length overcoat and a bird-like beak mask. The mask had glass openings for the eyes and a curved beak shaped like a bird's beak with straps that held the beak in front of the man's nose. He also wore thick, black gloves and he was holding a black briefcase, like those doctors had.
Nothing gave away his identity.
Dick blinked again and looked around the room. He was in a cell.
More precisely, a dungeon. There were bars on the side of the door and a big, metallic door. The room was made of stone, almost like he was back in the batcave. It reeked of mold.
The man came to a stop when he was in front of him, inspecting. He hardly poked on his ribs. Dick hissed, but remained quiet, frozen. He then put his thumb and pointer just under his jaw, pressing. He hummed.
He leaned to the side and placed his bag on a metallic black table Dick hadn't noticed before. He opened it. Inside, there were syringes full of liquids Dick couldn't identify, scalpels and knives that made his blood run cold.
The man did not seem to notice Dick's growing anxiety and turned to look at him once more, thoughtfully.
After finding what he seemed to be looking for, he got one of the syringe with one hand and turned to grab Dick's balls with the other.
He massaged them slowly, taking his time with each one and-to Dick's utter embarrassment- his cock started hardening from the gentle touch.
Once the man seemed satisfied, he brought the needle closer.
Dick, like he finally understood what was going on, started to violently struggle, but to no avail.
With a quick move, the man sunk the syringe and emptied half the liquid on one of his testicles, then the other.
To Dick's absolute mortification, he started getting numb there and soon enough he didn't feel anything.
The man then got a scalpel and made a deep cut. Dick looked down again, praying, hoping that this was a hallucination, that nothing would happen.
Sadly, it wasn't. He saw blood. He passed out. Unknowingly to him, it was for the best.
~~
When he woke up again, the room felt hot. There was the soft sound of fire, but nothing else could be heard. He tried to move, but once again couldn't. He was laying down now, his back exposed, like the woman from his memory. His arms and legs were bound. He thrashed, trying to get away, but a gloved hand weighed on his back, trying to calm him.
"Don't move."
Dick couldn't register what was happening. He kept trying to get free.
"Don't move. We will have to do this again if you do." The voice said again. He stopped. What was 'this'?
He didn't have time to think about it, before he felt pain on his back.
A strong, awful smell followed.
It was burnt skin.
~~
The steps returned. So did Bruce. The door opened again and he came in, holding a black, leather, doctor's bag. He opened it and pulled out a syringe.
"You saw something you shouldn't have." Bruce told him, looking at him expectedly.
Dick swallowed.
"I'm sorry, I'm really really sorry, I won't do it again, I swear" he cried.
Bruce run a hand through his hair, smiling at him. He had never seen Bruce smile before.
"I believe you."
Everything went black.
~~
"It was Bruce" he yelled, his eyes snapping open. No doubt on his mind now.
"Bruce, you sick fuck, let me go. I am going to kill you." He growled, trying to do something, anything.
The captor kneeled in front of his face. He looked at him for a moment, his hands going to the mask.
He took it off.
Bruce.
He was right. Why?
No.
"Perhaps I trained you a little too well, don't you think?" Bruce smiled.
Dick growled again.
"Why? How dare you? I trusted you. Let me go. LET ME GO."
He kept fighting. Bruce put a hand on his cheek, the leather feeling rough against his skin. He turned his head and tried to bite it.
"Shh, darling, you don't want to hurt yourself even more now, do you?"
Dick was confused. Even more? He wasn't hurt anywhere, was he?
He didn't manage to finish the thought, before he registered it. He was in pain. So much pain. How had he not noticed?
He screamed again and again, trying to close his legs, willing the pain to stop, with no luck. Why did it hurt so badly?
"What have you done? What did you do to me, you bastard?" He looked up at Bruce.
He was smirking.
"Haven't you heard? Dogs are less aggressive after being neutered. You just needed to remember to whom you belong. Now daddy can finally take care of you."