100 Theme Challenge 64 Style

74. Abuse

This was abuse, and Grimmjow knew it. He knew he should have turned tail long ago, should have run when he still had the chance. He knew he still could, really, and he knew that he should. But he also knew that he wouldn't.

As he seethed, trying to ignore the pain in his flayed thighs and buttocks while he sat down at the meeting table yet again, he contemplated leaving. Ulquiorra was a cruel man, the kind of man who would do worse than just kill you, and never make it pleasurable unless he really wanted to torture you. Between the harsh bites, the brutal whip-crack, and the merciless thrusts Grimmjow always wanted to die. Every night, now, Ulquiorra would demand his particular brand of service, and never give the other espada a chance to heal. The scars were deep in Grimmjow's tanned skin, and the bruises layers thick. Never where anyone could see, even with Grimmjow's rather exposing jacket, but for every inch he couldn't mar Ulquiorra always left another bleeding cut somewhere else.

Grimmjow thought about it all meeting long, and when the meeting ended and they were allowed to leave he was the last to get up. He tried valiantly not to limp, and succeeded far more than he expected. He couldn't let anyone know-what would Aizen to do Ulquiorra? Ulquiorra was his favorite, but not favorite enough to avoid serious punishment for breaking Aizen's number one rule: never harm a fellow espada. For Ulquiorra's sake, Grimmjow should leave.

Ulquiorra was waiting outside the door with that look in his eyes that said Grimmjow was going to get it especially hard. He was angry and looking for an outlet, and Grimmjow just so happened to be the most available punching bag. Ulquiorra turned on his heel sharply, and Grimmjow knew he was meant to follow. So he did. He didn't question it aloud, but in his mind he wondered why he was still trailing behind the man who had nearly killed him on more than one occasion.

Ulquiorra's room was neat, as always, except for his wall. His wall was still splattered with Grimmjow's blood from where he'd taken him the night before. Grimmjow was slammed back against that wall as Ulquiorra growled, "You were not listening to Aizen-sama at the meeting."

"I'm sorry," Grimmjow whimpered, knowing it was useless to try to deny it. Ulquiorra's hold tightened.

"The man gave you power and life, and you couldn't even listen to him?" Ulquiorra asked. "What kind of son are you?" Grimmjow squeezed his eyes shut as his clothes were ripped away, exposing his wounds. Ulquiorra dug his fingernails into one of the cuts left from the whip and Grimmjow yelped, tears coming to his eyes. That cut had almost healed, but now is was open as the day it was made. "You will learn your lesson tonight."

After that nothing was said, Ulquiorra staying as quiet as he always was. The only sounds that were heard were Grimmjow's pleas for mercy, but there was no answer. Finally it was over, and Grimmjow slumped onto the ground with fresh blood and Ulquiorra's semen on him. His manhood had remained limp through the whole ordeal, gleaning no pleasure at all. He wished he could say that he had never felt so used.

"Would you kill me if I left?" Grimmjow asked, voice hollow. Ulquiorra paused in the doing-up of his pants.

"Leaving is not an option."

Grimmjow leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. He had known that answer was coming, and he had known he would never leave in any case. At least, in a twisted way, he was needed.

He was needed.