Title: Slade's Way

Disclaimer: Slade and Robin, unfortunately do not belong to me but the set up and the other insignificant characters do.

Warning: Dark fic, Harem, torture, non-con

A/N – Unbetaed because I have no patience and if you point anything out, I'll fix it later. This is also my longest drabble to date, over 12 pages, so I hope you enjoy.

Summary: Richard Grayson has grown up on the streets. In a post-war America, he was orphaned at the age of nine but he learned fast how to survive with pick-pocketing and thievery only later learning how to fight. He lasted six years on his own before getting caught. This is the tale of how he went from street thief to harem boy.

***

The overseer of Slade's Manor, eased back in his chair into a more comfortable position before signaling for the guards to get on with it. They opened the large double doors and robots ushered in the first of them. They were thieves, criminals, law breakers, or merely the ones unlucky enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. All had been captured and sent here to serve out there sentence with menial labor.

The line of wary souls shuffled forward, hands shacked behind their backs and iron collars around there necks. Each prisoner was linked to the next just incase one decided it would like to try and fight or run. They were also gagged at the moment. New acquisitions tended to be very vocal in the beginning and he had long since lost his patience with their pleas.

The group went from tallest to shortest so that the differences in heights wouldn't end up choking the next one in line. There were men, women, boys and girls. Most would end up servants or slaves, the largest men would be reeducated into the military. Other than that there wasn't anything to catch his eye; just a parade of dirty faces and in the children and women's cases, tear-filled ones. He hated weeding out the new captures it was always very dull work.

As adults moved away and the younger teens eased past, a short dark-haired male gave him a quick once over before looking ahead again.

Blue eyes?...with black hair? No that was more than likely just dirt or something. However he called a halt to the shuffling precession. He just had to check.

Rising to his feet almost lazily, he moved forward to investigate. He moved down the line until he stood next to the blue-eyed child. He grabbed his chin forcefully before easing a hand through his dark lank locks, exposing the roots.

His hair was in need of a wash but it was dark, very dark and his eyes weren't just crystalline blue, they were defiant. Perfect.

He released the boy and the kid imminently shifted away, well as far as his restraints would allow, mere inches.

"Take him to Boris. Continue," he said as he retreated back to his set, pleased that he had found a new acquisition for Slade's Harem. I had been awhile since he had a new one and that always put him in a good mood.

***

Grayson didn't fight as he was unchained and spit from the others. His hands remained tied behind his back but the collar was unlocked. He wished he could reach up and rub at the now exposed skin where the heavy collar had laid but he couldn't. Instead, a guard gripping his arm tightly and pulled him through a maze of corridors before coming to a large door with too other guards standing outside.

"A new one for the Den." Grayson narrowed his eyes, as his arm was jerked to indicate him. Both guards appraised him before one took his arm and opened the doors, dragged him inside, he previous escort turning back. They passed a room full of countless women before stopping outside another set of double doors within the larger room. The guard knocked. A boy, younger than him, opened the door.

"Fetch, Boris. We have a new one for the master."

The boy nodded and left never saying a word.

Boris was a tall thin man with dark eyes the color of burnt leaves, thin lips and had a look on his face like he smelled something bad; all in all not a pleasant countenance. He wore a long sleeveless red coat over his loose fitting pants and shirt with rings on almost all of his fingers.

"A new one?" Grayson didn't like the way he looked at him, like a piece of meat at a butchers. It made him want to kick his eyes out of his skull.

"It's filthy," he declared. "Go and give it to the bots to clean." Boris started to turn back into the room and the guard pulled him along yet again, not taking into account he could walk for himself. He was starting to get really tired of that.

"Wait." He was jerked to a stop. Boris approached them again, standing imperiously over him, his gaze much more intense now. He met the man's eyes levelly, still unable to make a sound. Boris reached out a long pale hand and pulled the gag away from his mouth, the better to see his face but without touching him.

"I would just let me go if I were you." He practically snarled, just because they caught him doesn't mean they get to keep him.

"Spunky little thing aren't you?" he drawled, not at all intimidated.

"You have no idea. Let me go now and I promise not to break your face when I leave."

Boris answered with a smile, a small tight smile that somehow made his dull eyes seem darker.

"He's really going to enjoy breaking you." He turned away again, satisfied.

"Like hell that will ever happen!" he shouted but it did no good, he continued to be dragged along like a misbehaving puppy. He stumbled a little as he was pulled along, his hobbled feet tripping him. If his hands weren't still tied he would have clocked the guy right then and there.

He was steered into another room, this one full of showers and the floor was doted with drains. Definitely the largest bathroom he had ever been in.

They didn't untie him just cut away his clothing, not even pausing as he called out in protest. When he didn't have a shred of covering left, he couldn't help a small shiver. Only then did they release him and pushed him into the waiting arms of the bots. He struggled but the cold metal fingers of the robots were as good as the shackles when it came to subduing him.

They turned the showers on and proceeded to scrub ever inch of him. Leaving nothing, that is nothing, untouched. His hair was washed twice and scrubbed until he thought they were going to scour it right off his head but at least the water was clean and warm. He hadn't had a hot shower in, he didn't know how long. He only wished that becoming Slade's new fuck toy wasn't price…

After his shower, he was yet again dragged out and the guard moved to take custody of him. That's when he made his move; a quick front kick to the man's heavy jaw had the larger man down in an instant. He eyed the robot's worriedly but they only moved back to their original positions. Obviously they must only follow commands or had only limited functions. Then a quick search of his guard relieved a small set of keys. Realizing that he was still naked, he grabbed a pair of gray pants and a shirt off of a shelf. He doubted that anyone here would care about a naked streaking teenager but he didn't what to drawl any attention at all, if he could help it.

Cautiously, he unlocked that door and eased his way out. A boy passed by him carrying a stack of sheets but he didn't even spare him a glance. He followed the servant back the way he had come, passed the door where Boris resided and out again through the women's quarters.

He slowed as he approached the two men standing guard at the entrance with any hope they would recognize him as the one that was just brought it.

"What are you doing here?" One of them asked him. Then getting an idea, he lowered his head.

"I was called for." He tried to sound as small and submissive as he could.

"Your not suppose to go through here go out the other door." He pointed with his large muscular arm in another direction.

Trying to keep the ruse going for as long as he could he turned as if trying to follow his directions, before jumping and doing a spinning kick to his head. The other one moved to intervene and he caught him in the chest with a well placed side kick, before finishing the job with a punch to the face. The sudden shrieks of the women didn't even faze him as he set to work.

He tried the door, it was locked. He tried the keys he had taken from the first guy. None of them worked. He did a quick search of these guards and found not one key but a whole ring of keys. There was no way he could find the right one in time. Then he saw want he needed sticking out of one of the men's pockets, sunglasses. He snatched them up as quick as a flash and broke off one of the sides, then twisted a broken piece of the frames into the shape that he needed. Now with is new pick and wedge he started on the door.

He was nearly there when someone grabbed him from behind followed by a grading voice in his ear.

"Why you little bastard…"

Not delaying in the slightest, he slipped out of his grasp and kicked him off but he already realized his mistake. Others were coming and one of them was sporting a Stunner. Not a good thing. That's how he was caught in the first place. When he woke up he had already been in chains that first time.

He wouldn't be getting out of here today in any case, turning back around he slipped his tools into the wide waistband of his pants and held the keys in his hand. He smiled slightly to himself; there was no better direction than misdirection. Let them think that the keys were his only plan.

But that's as far as he got because the next instant he was hit with the dreaded stunner blast and his body went limp. He was still conscious but he couldn't move, couldn't even close his eyelids. So he sat there slumped over looking at the door until he was roughly turned over and someone grabbed his face.

It was Boris.

"That wasn't a very good idea, boy," Boris said, before closing his eyelids with those creepy thin fingers of his. If he could feel his skin right now, he's sure it would be crawling at that man's touch.

"Pick him up." He was lifted but his thoughts were already slipping away. He was unconsciousness before they had even entered the boy's harem.

***

He woke up sometime later, his wrists and ankles shackled together. Then to further incapacitate him his bound hands were tied to a post at the head of the mattress his was lying on. They had taken his shirt but it looked like they had left his pants. He almost let out a sigh of relief when he felt the broken pieces of metal poke into his hip. He still had them. Now if he could only get out of these cuffs…

After a good thirty minutes to an hour without any luck, he finally relaxed back and had to admit this was not the best situation that he had ever been in. With not other options at the moment he relaxed back and proceeded to wait.

A few hours later, the door opened. Boris was back, so he gave him his most menacing glare and waited to see what was going to happen.

"Good you're awake. The master wouldn't be very impressed if I delivered him a comatose body to his chambers."

"I don't care what he would think. Let me go."

"That's a pity because he seemed most eager to meet you." The man drew closer and stroked his long-fingered hands through his hair, it really did make his skin crawl, he could feel the puckering of goosebumps all over his body.

He moved away as far as he could and snatched his head back. "Don't touch me."

Again that annoying tight-lipped smile, "I'm not the one you should be worrying about, boy" The sinisterly thin man turned away again and motioned to someone to enter.

"Bring him but leave the shackles on. We don't want another incident." One of the guards from earlier came in and started following orders. It took everything he had to allow the man to untie him and toss him over a shoulder. He didn't want to shift his tools and maybe lose them, so he suffered in silence.

"That's a good boy." Boris said before ruffling his hair. His blood boiled at the condescension in the man's voice but his let it slide, instead he focused on where they were going.

They left a long row of doors and then out of a larger room filled with other boys that watched them leave with mild interest. Outside the boy's harem they turned and followed the same route to the bathroom but they passed it, then out another guarded door and down another hall. Three turns later and they finally entered a room.

He was unslung off of the man's shoulder to be set down not on his hobbled feet but on his knees. He tossed the hair out of his eyes before looking up, then further up, at Slade Wilson, Deathstoke, the most powerful man in this corrupt and shattered world. He had seen pictures of him before so the missing eye and the white hair wasn't new but inanimate pictures just didn't do the man justice. He was huge; easily towering over even the muscle bound guard that had delivered him, and his feature looked like they were chiseled from stone.

Again he waited, waited to see what was going to happen, and what kind of advantage he could get.

"You can take those off him now." The voice was like poison in your veins, quick and chilling, and the iciness of his single gray eye didn't help either. The man's gaze never left him.

First his feet then his wrists were released. He stood and the delivery man walked back out, leaving 'the master' to his next victim.

"What is your name?"

"Does it matter?" he returned, hardly daring to look at the room because it meant taking his eyes off of Slade. Primitive survival instincts were beating like a pulse through his head, never turn you back on a predator. But the only thing that truly worried him was there behind the other man, his bed.

Firm lips stretched into a cool grin, "maybe."

"Grayson." He'd play nice for right now.

"Grayson? Is that you last name or just a nickname?" He actually seemed interesting as he moved forward.

"That's my name, you pedophilic bastard."

He attacks then and knows he's caught the man by surprise. He throws a faint to his broad chest before turning and hitting him directly in the eye. Then when the larger man involuntarily flinched away, he kicked him in the groin. A 'fair fight' on the streets means a 'lost fight' and he always fought to win.

Then almost before Slade hit the floor, he's at the door, pick in hand. He gets the door open just before it was forced shut again. The pick is snatched from his hand, much faster then he was expecting and his caught and turned around.

"No, no, no, my flighty little bird. We're not done yet and these are not the toys I want to play with."

He can't escape as Slade pushes him into the door and kisses him roughly. It only lasted a second before he bit down as hard as he could.

The man pulled away and Grayson was pleased to see that there was blood on his lip, but that was all before one of Slade massive hands gripped his jaw and forced his head back against the door exposing his throat. Slade bit him hard but his scream was muffled by the man's hand, he could feel the warm blood drip down his neck as the man pulled back. He tried to wrench either himself or the hand away but neither was would budge. The grip was just as unforgiving as the robots from earlier and his jaw ached from the pressure.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Slade lick the blood away as his wound healed itself. So the rumors were true, the man could regenerate much faster than a normal human. He had never truly believed until now.

"Let…go!" he ground out with some difficulty.

Slade smiled before complying, pulling the boy away from the door. He relocked it and engaged the digital lock this time.

"There is only one way this will end, boy. My way. You might as well give in now."

"Not a chance."

He through another punch but it was intercepted, then he was surprised to be suddenly moving through the air. Slade had bodily lifted him and tossed him at the wall. He impacted hard and fell, flopping down on the bed. Momentarily stunned he wasn't fast enough to dodge the man's hands as he secured one of his with a length of oddly smooth rope. He tried to punch him with his free hand, in a last ditch attempt but it too was caught and tied.

"You're quite the little fighter aren't you?"

"Let go of me!"

"No I don't think so." He was grabbed by his bound wrists and dragged over to a wall. He tried to pull away but it was completely useless, Slade didn't even seem to notice his attempts. The rope binding his wrists together was fastened to an unusual clasp on the wall that was set into a track. With his hands in place, Slade moved the clasp up the wall and he had to move with it. He only stopped when his feet were barely on the ground and his arms were stretched high over his head.

"Now, that's better," the white haired man seemed well pleased with himself as he was left to dangle on the wall. He tried to pull away but in this position he didn't have enough leverage to pull at the device very well. He struggled for several terse moments before Slade came back and he had to turn his head to look over his shoulder at him. His eyes widened a little in fear.

Slade was uncurling a long thin, deadly looking whip. He gulped and turned back around; taking several deep breathes his tried to prepare himself for what was about to come.

The first stoke fell hard against his back, making him flinch. The whip cut like a razorblade into his flesh and the first droplets of his blood oozed out of his rent skin. The second wasn't as bad as the first; it was worst, crossing over the first strike. He barely could stop a cry of pain from coming out but he couldn't stop the tears. At the third strike, he had wet tracks down his cheeks and his breathing had been replaced with a pant. By the fourth hit, he no longer cared if he screamed in agony or not. Then the torture continued, each and every stoke being dealt with precision and accuracy.

"Now let's try this again," the ex-mercenary said, finally allowing the whip's tip to rest on the floor. "Is Grayson you last name?"

The trembling boy said nothing, only gasped for air and let out a sob every now and then. The whip latched out again, making the boy scream as another lash mark joined the others. The agitation made some of the torn cuts on his back ooze a little more of his life's blood.

"I asked you if Grayson is your last name," the question was a little firmer this time.

"Yes," the abused young soul whispered, head bowed and leaning against the wall.

"What is your first name?"

He mumbled something insistent.

"What was that?"

The reply came a little louder this time. "Richard."

"Richard Grayson, hmm. So, Richard, have you had enough yet?"

He was so tied, in so much pain please, please anything but this, "Yes."

Slade was suddenly next to him, doing some thing with his wrists. He didn't even have the strength to see how the clasp worked; his arms had long since gone numb and his legs limp. He would have collapsed completely when he was freed if it wasn't for the massive arm now holding him up. He was lifted and set down on his stomach on something soft. A bed?

His blood soaked pants were removed, then his hips were lifted and a pillow was placed under him.

"You haven't passed out on me have you, Richard?" Fingers were dragged over his wounds. He groaned in pain but answered.

"N-no," the single word catching in his throat.

"Good." There was suddenly something cold and wet at his entrance and he was so far gone that he almost didn't care. But that was before the larger man started to push in. This new pain was enough to bring him back again. He could feel even more of his flesh tear as Slade's thick shaft moved past the tight ring of muscle and deeper inside.

He couldn't scream at this point, so he whimpered. Whimper like a beaten animal as hard fingers pulled his hips back and he was impaled on rigid masculine flesh. The tender skin of his passage splitting bit by bit until his abuser paused fully sheathed and panting lightly.

"You're unbelievable tight. You were a virgin weren't you?"

He couldn't speak, he could barely breathe. There comes a light chuckle from above him that seems to caress the injured parts of his body.

"Not anymore," his flesh burned painfully as this new implement of his torture slides out and slams back in, then faster and faster. His breath hitches in his throat, everything suddenly going dim and distance.

***

The pain that greeted him when he awoke was nearly enough to send him straight back into unconsciousness, but not quite. He had had his share of beating in his life but this was by far the worst. He back felt like one massive raw nerve that was exposed and inflamed; and his lower regions weren't must better.

Trying this whole waking up think again, he reopened his eyes. He was lying on a bed sprawled out on his stomach, completely nude. The room he was in was very small and he wasn't sure where he was. Was he back in the Harem again?

He pulled his arms in as he attempted to get up but the simple movement sent him crashing back down on the mattress, groaning. It hurt too much to move and it hurt almost as much too just lay here. What had he gotten himself into?

He must have dosed off again because he awoke to the door opening.

"Ah here he is and look at the mess he's in. I'll be lucky to have him better by the end of the week." It was another boy's voice, his tone hiding an edge of irritation.

"Tuff, because you only have two days. Here." This voice was gruffer, older, not Boris' but maybe one of the guards?

"Thanks," this time the boy's voice was pure sarcasm. He heard the door close again then the bed dipped as someone sat down.

Something cold touched his back and he hissed in his next breath. Even the slight pressure was agonizing.

"Oh you're awake, are you?" He turned his head slightly to see his visitor. A pair of dark brown eyes met his, outlined in heavy lashes and framed with loose chocolate curls. The boy was older than him but probable no older than twenty or so and he had a smirk that would put and evil leprechaun to shame.

"What are you doing here?" his voice was grainy and weak. He hated the way it sounded. It made his sound just as weak as he felt.

"I'm going to heal you. You must have put up quite a fight for him to do this much damage." His dark eyes took in the injuries on his back again. "But not to worry, I'll have you up and getting fucked in no time."

"That's not going to happen again."

"Wow, the master's really going to have a lot of fun with you. He likes it when they struggle…for awhile." The medic picked up the cleaning cloth again and wiped at the wounds.

He gritted his teeth in pain and clenched the sheets in his fists. The once smooth skin of his back was in terrible shape, he knew. It would take weeks for him to be up to par again and he couldn't afford to let it take that long.

"Stop," came his hoarse command followed by a whimper as the cloth caught on his flesh and pulled.

"Sorry can't. He wants you in two days and that is, unless he becomes impatient. That happens sometimes." The whole time he continued his ministrations and Robin couldn't be bothered to answer him again, too busy fighting a scream.

After several terrible minutes his torturous cleaning was over, however it left him panting in pain. When he got his breath back he opened his eyes to see the guy inches away from his face, watching him.

"I so wish you weren't the master's current fav. You make the hottest little sounds when you're in pain." Panic suddenly beat in his chest not another one, not this soon but the guy moved away again, cursing to himself.

"That's just not fair." He looked down at him again, obviously frustrated before he let out a sigh. "Oh well, maybe there'll be something left when he's done with you." He picked up a large jar of some yellowish stuff. "All right then, lets get started shall we?"

"Started at wh…oww." He back just went from burning pain to stinging pain as he spread the stuff on his back.

"Just give it a second. This stuff will have you healed in no time." He was greatly surprised when the pain tapered off into numbness and his breathing eased. Whatever it was it really did worked wonders with the pain at least. He closed his eyes as the other guy finished only to have them shoot open a minute later as a slick digit had found it's way inside of him.

"What are you doing?" He started to pull himself up, his back wasn't healed, but as long as he was reasonably pain free he could deal with it. A hand pushed him back down again.

"Don't get excited. You have some tearing and I have to heal everything."

"Well don't," he growled trying to move away. Hands tried to stop him.

"Be a good boy and I'll bring you dinner, okay?"

"No! Don't touch me." He tried to twist away again.

"Hey Mike can you give me a hand?" he called suddenly. The door opened and 'Mike' stepped back in.

"Hold him down for a second." 'Mike' grabbed him by both shoulders and pushed him into the mattress but carefully avoiding his back. One finger was joined by as second, they moved up and down and back and forth until his inside was covered in the same stuff that his back was coated in. The pain, once again, was all but erased.

"Ok that's enough." He was let go as the fingers disappeared. He pushed himself up at got a slap on the ass for his trouble.

"Play nice," Mike said before walking out. "Are you done here Virgil? There's two more you need to see. Some house guests don't know how to return things in good working order."

"Yeah, I'm done…unfortunately," the older boy added give him another scrutinizing glance. "Damn." He said again and left with the door sliding smoothly closed. There was no door knob and there was no lock. He sighed and put his face down in the mattress. How was he going to get out of here, with only two days to work with and his back torn to shreds?

***

Two days and many unsuccessful escape attempts later, Grayson finds himself once again in 'the master's' room but this time he hands are tied up from the start. Handcuffs this time, looped through the metal rings set in the headboard just for that purpose. Slade hadn't showed up yet so he was still pulling at his restraints trying to get something to happen.

His back amazingly, was almost completely healed now. There were only a few tender red marks but he had been assured that they would be gone by tomorrow; that strange salve being the culprit. Virgil, their "medic" was the only one allowed to use it and then only on 'special' patents. A lot had been used on him to heal him this quickly, he had been told. As if he cared.

After they're first meeting Virgil had taken to having him restrained every time he came to 'check up' on his patient. When all he really did was touch him any and everywhere he wanted then smeared some more of that stuff on him. It had really starting to piss him off.

The door opened then and Slade strolled in, his eye wandering over the naked form in his bed. He smiled and untucked his shirt from his pants before pulling in off.

"Are you going to cooperate this time, Richard?" He started on his belt next, unfastening it and dropping it to the floor.

Watching his movements very carefully he replied, "no."

"That is unfortunate. I had thought I would be able to unlock those this time." He pulled the key out of his pocket and moved over to the bed. He touched the cold metal to his forehead then trailed it over his eyebrow, his suddenly closed eyelid, his lips, down his throat, then pressed it to one of his nipples, causing it to harden.

"It could be a lot better if you give it." He opened his eyes and locked gazes with Slade.

"Hell no." His legs flashed up and wrapped themselves around Slade thick neck. He squeezed and twisted his body as far as he could. He heard the snapped and the bone and flesh in between his legs gave way. He released him and the corpse of his rapist fell to one side. The key landed on the bed next to him. Then bending his body as few could do he grabbed the small metal key with his toes and tossed it to his chest. He grabbed it with his mouth and passed it on to his hands. Two quick clicks and he was free, finally.

He doesn't even spare a glance at Slade's body as he passes it, but it watched him. He is sudden grabbed from behind and dragged back onto the bed, where the man whose neck he just broke, straddles him.

"That hurt, my pet." He slaps him hard making his head whip over to one side.

"That really hurt." He hits him again sending his head back the other way. Then he grabbed his jaw before reaching down and taking his boyhood in hand and giving it a squeeze.

He gasped part in pain, part in panic, and part in unbelieving fear.

"I have to admit I haven't had this much trouble with a slave in a very long time. Actually I don't think I have ever had this much trouble before." He didn't sound angry now, he almost sounded, pleased?

"Now you have a decision to make Richard. You can either do as I say and enjoy yourself or you can continue to fight and in that case it will be twice as bad as before because I don't intent to let you take your little detour to la la land this time."

He struggled and Slade tighten his grip…both grips, making Robin let out a whimper. His heart was now racing; he was deathly afraid of what Slade might do to him.

"Now I'm going to kiss you. You're going to open you mouth and kiss me back." Without removing his hand from the teen's jaw, firm lips pressed hard against smaller softer ones, but his mouth remained closed and unresponsive. Slade squeezed him again, eliciting another gasp, which Slade immediately took advantage of, sliding his tongue into the other's mouth.

Then, yet again pinned underneath this powerful man, his tear ducts constricted and moisture started unwillingly down his cheeks. He knew at that moment that he was never going to get away. That now, there was only Slade's way.

A/N – I have another Harem boy story in the works but it's not quite as dark as this and it will be a stand alone chaptered fic, of no relation other than theme, to this story. So review and tell me what you think.

D/2