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Alex blinked – was that a serious question? “It fucking hurts, you bastard,” he croaked.

“Good. Is it really painful?” Harper took hold of his burning rear and squeezed.

“Yes. Fuck you – yes!”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Harper purred. “You look even more beautiful when you’re in pain, but you’re still so defiant. I thought I’d beaten that out of you.” Harper squeezed again, making him yelp. “How much does it hurt? Tell me.”

“Please, stop… please… I’m sorry,” he whimpered.

Harper squeezed even harder, making Alex scream. “I said, how much does it hurt? Answer me.”

“So much… it hurts so much… please, please… stop. Please stop, sir. Please.”

“That’s better. I like hearing you beg – it’s such a turn-on.”

Alex heard the sound of a zip and then felt Harper’s hard length pressing against his backside. He squirmed sideways, but Harper pushed him back into position.

“I see you’ve still got some fight in you – maybe I should have beaten you for longer.” He spat on his hand, and Alex felt a wet finger press against his hole. “The spit’s for my comfort, not yours. Open for me.”

Alex felt his hole tighten instinctively.

Harper slammed his hand down on his sore bottom. “Come on, we all know what a little slut you are. Plenty of cocks have been in here and now it’s my turn. Open up for me.”

He pushed his finger inside, then removed it only to immediately shove his cock into Alex’s cleft.

Alex tried to relax, knowing it would make it easier, but his traumatised body wouldn’t obey.

“Damn it – fuck you,” Harper swore, shoving hard. He grabbed handfuls of Alex’s flesh, wrenched his buttocks apart, and then thrust again, with all his force. This time he breached the tight ring of flesh, wringing a scream from Alex’s lips in the process.

He closed his eyes and concentrated on breathing as Harper sank deep inside him, paused for a second, then began fucking him vigorously.

The hard edge of the table was digging into the front of his thighs, his wrists were tied too tightly behind his back, making his arms ache, and he hurt more than he thought he could endure.

Harper slapped his raw, sore arse as he fucked him, and Alex’s hole tightened involuntarily around Harper’s cock, making the man grunt with pleasure. He fucked Alex so hard that he screamed with each savage thrust.

Looking up, Alex caught sight of his reflection in the tall glass windows opposite.

His stupid hair was still slicked down, the parting still severely in place – Lorenzo had surpassed himself.

The top part of his body was fully clothed, apart from the missing tie.

His face was red, shiny, and wet, the sweat from his forehead mingling now with the tear tracks running down his cheeks.

He could see Harper behind him, still fully dressed, plunging into him with hard thrusts. Harper caught him looking and gave a growl of anger, shoving his head back down on the table. Alex closed his eyes, glad to look away from the sight of himself being so abjectly debased.

Harper climaxed with a throaty shout of triumph and rested on top of him. Then he withdrew, making Alex cry out again.

Alex lay on the table, panting, hoping it was over. He could smell the sharp scent of Harper’s cologne, overlaid with sweat and the musky smell of his come. He felt like throwing up.

“Very nice,” Harper murmured. “It’s not often a man gets to live out one of his filthiest fantasies.

” He caressed Alex’s bottom with his fingertips, making him shudder.

“It was so much better in reality than in my head.” He straightened up, tucked his spent cock back into his boxers, and threaded his belt through his trousers.

Then he slicked his hair down, looking as if nothing had happened.

“Get up,” he ordered, untying Alex’s wrists.

Alex slid off the table and landed in a heap on the floor, trembling with rage and distress.

“Get dressed,” Harper said curtly. “I’m sure George will be back soon.”

Alex staggered to his feet and gingerly pulled his boxer shorts over his abused flesh.

He could feel Harper’s come dripping out of him and running down his leg.

It felt disgusting. He slowly pulled up his trousers and fastened them, looking down at the ground the whole time, too humiliated to meet the other man’s eye.

“Good boy,” Harper purred, knotting Alex’s tie back into place around his throat.

Alex stood still and let him do it, too exhausted to move. It felt like an oddly intimate act after such a violent encounter.

“That’s better.” Harper smoothed Alex’s suit. “So respectable; nobody would know what a tasty little slut you are underneath.” He pinched Alex’s cheek, grinning. Alex remained frozen to the spot.

Harper drew back with a mocking smile. “Aw, what’s the matter? Didn’t you have a good time?”

“No, but then I’m not the first person to be fucked over by a banker, and I doubt I’ll be the last,” Alex snapped, the defiance making him feel a little better, if nothing else.

But Harper didn’t seem stung by the comment – if anything he looked amused. “Your smart mouth is such a turn-on. I’m so bored of boys who enjoy it,” he drawled. “It’s much more fun if it’s real.”

At that moment Tyler walked into the room, a big grin on his face.

“So, do we have a deal, Jake?” he asked genially, placing his holopad on the table, right where Alex had been lying a few minutes earlier. A contract popped up in mid-air in front of them.

“We do… subject to one minor caveat,” Harper said. Tyler raised an eyebrow. “I’d like longer with Alexander next time. I don’t think we dealt with his behaviour sufficiently on this occasion. So, I think an overnight stay would be best, or maybe an entire weekend.”

Tyler nodded pleasantly. “I’m sure that can be arranged.

” He watched as Harper biosigned the contract, grinning all the while.

Then Tyler escorted him to the door, making small talk while Alex stood there impotently, fists clenched by his side.

He felt like a child, flushed with useless rebellion in the face of powerful adults.

Tyler handed Harper over to one of his assistants, and the banker gave Alex a mocking wave and then left.

“That went well,” Tyler commented, turning back to Alex. “You did good work here today. See, I knew I wouldn’t regret spending all that money on you.”

“He beat me like a dog and fucked me over the table like I was nothing,” Alex spat.

“I know. I saw.” Tyler shrugged. “I can see why so many people desire you, Alexander. There’s something about you – maybe the attitude, or maybe because you’re so notorious.

Nobody cares about you, because they know how toxic you are.

That makes it easy for them to act out whatever nasty little fantasy they have about you.

You see…” He leaned in close. “You’re nothing.

That means you can be anything they want you to be; you don’t exist outside their fantasies. ”

“I’m not worthless. I’m not a piece of meat,” Alex said defiantly, wishing he could calm his trembling body.

“Of course not; you’re worth a great deal to me.

Take today – thanks to you, we’ve secured funding for those beautiful ducks you designed.

You must be very proud. This small sacrifice on your part – some hurt pride and a sore arse – will ensure the Destiny range comes into being.

I wanted you to learn something today, and I think you have – that every achievement requires sacrifices.

That’s what you can take from your work here today. ”

He rested a hand on Alex’s shoulder and escorted him to the door, where Scarface was waiting for him. “Take him home and put him to bed,” Tyler ordered. “He’s had rather a taxing day.”

Alex positioned himself on his side on the mercifully short flight back to Ghost Eye, unable to sit comfortably on his beaten backside. Scarface didn’t talk; he just sat in sympathetic silence beside him.

Alex had stiffened up so much by the time they returned to the floating city that he stumbled getting out of the helicopter, barely able to put one foot in front of the other.

Without saying a word, Scarface scooped him up in his arms and carried him back to his room.

It was a kind gesture, but a fittingly humiliating end to a terrible day.

The guard placed him gently on the bed in his room and pulled a blanket over his still-trembling body.

“Is he okay? What happened?” Alex heard Solange ask in the doorway.

“He’ll be okay, but he needs to be on his own right now,” Scarface told her, with a greater degree of insight than Alex would have expected.

The door closed, leaving him in welcome solitude.

He turned his face to the wall and noticed, blankly, that it was no longer a solid colour but showed a bucolic meadow scene, complete with cows in the distance and the bobbing heads of red poppies in the foreground.

He had no idea why Tyler had changed it, but it seemed incongruous given what had just happened.

Was that the point? Was Tyler mocking him in some way? Or was it designed to be soothing?

He was still in shock, and it was hard to think because of the pain rolling off his backside in waves. Then he remembered that Harper had said he wanted him again – for longer next time.

Was this how Tyler intended to break him? If so, then maybe he’d succeed, because Alex didn’t think he could endure that. His breath hitching in his throat, he closed his eyes to block out the cheerful meadow scene and buried his face in the pillow.