Title: A Disciplined Man

Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Author: Saturn Girl

Email: saturngirl9@hotmail.com

Feedback: Yes, sir

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Xander/Graham

Summary: Xander gets better acquainted with Riley's mysterious friend.

Warnings: M/M Slash, torture and non-consensual sex, and even worse: annoying children's music. Don't blame me if you have nightmares about weasels, I did warn you.

Spoilers: None. Takes place during BtVS Season Four.

Archive: Sure

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and no money is made from this story. Feedback welcome and appreciated. Offers of free therapy sessions politely declined.

Note: Xander POV, and / / indicates his thoughts.

By Saturn Girl
*****

The handsome, dark-haired youth hummed as he walked down the corridor to Anya's apartment. Xander was looking forward to seeing her after a hectic day at his new job. The main freezer was on the fritz in the ice cream truck, so he'd almost lost his entire stock of Fudgicles. To make things worse, he couldn't get that damn music out of his head. Eight hours of listening to "Pop Goes The Weasel" over and over was enough to drive anyone insane.

He smiled as he knocked on Anya's door.

/Heh heh. Good ol' apartment 69! I remember the night I had the pleasure of explaining the significance of that number to Anya.../

No answer. He reached into his jeans pocket, pulled out his keychain, and unlocked the door.

/I love it...I'm important enough boyfriend material that I merit my own key! Hmm...wonder if she still has that leftover pizza in the fridge? I'm starving./

Xander walked inside the empty apartment, shut the door behind him, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he found the apartment distinctly...not empty. A serious looking young man in military fatigues sat quietly in a chair by the window.

"Gah! W-who the hell are you? What are you doing in here? Where's my girlfriend?" demanded Xander angrily. The man didn't move from the chair, he just watched the startled young man, calm and impassive.

/Hey, I've seen this guy before...he's one of Riley's commando buddies! Greg, or Grant, or something.../

"If you want to see Miss Emerson again, I suggest you be quiet and cooperate, Mr. Harris." Graham Miller rose from the chair.

/The Initiative has Anya? Crap! They know she used to be a demon, and they've captured her!/

Xander rushed the intruder. "Damn you! What have you done with her? If you've hurt...aaargh!" Graham easily sidestepped the young man, grabbed him in a police takedown maneuver, and shoved Xander against the wall, twisting his arm painfully behind his back. Graham's face never lost his calm, controlled appearance.

"I don't like to repeat myself, Harris, so it will be much easier on you if you listen and obey my requests the first time. Shut up, and cooperate. Doing so will insure the well-being of your sub-terrestrial companion." Graham increased the pressure on Xander's cramped arm to emphasize his point, causing him to yelp.

"Okay! Okay! What the hell do want with us? She's not a demon anymore! And I'm just a stupid ice cream truck driver! There's no monster blood running through my veins, really!" Xander squirmed under the stronger man's firm grip.

/What's up with "sub-terrestrial" anyway? That makes her sound like Anya's a mole or a gopher or something. Does Riley have anything to do with this? Oh, man, do I wish Buffy was here!/

"Come with me, and all will be made clear to you. Don't try anything foolish, Harris. I'm not afraid to use force to bring you with me, if necessary." Graham let Xander go, and watched silently as the frightened young man rubbed his sore arm.

"Promise me Anya is safe. Please, I'll do whatever you want, if you promise me that she's okay!" Xander's voice shook as he worried about the fate of his missing girlfriend.

"She is unharmed, for the moment. You will follow me. Don't try to run away, or call for help. Do exactly what I tell you. Understand?" Graham spoke in terse, clipped phrases, his steely grey eyes boring into Xander's gentle brown eyes.

Xander glared at the commando, but nodded his head. Graham led the frightened but unresisting young man out of the apartment complex to a black Ford Bronco parked on the street. He opened the passenger side door. "Get in."

He hesitated, but the intense stare from the soldier prompted Xander to obey, and he climbed into the Bronco. The interior of the vehicle was spotless...there were no coffee cups, ATM receipts, dried leaves, stray CD cases or other residue that you'd expect to see in a car. It was impeccably clean, quite the opposite of anything Xander owned.

Graham slipped behind the wheel, and started the car. Xander fidgeted uncomfortably in the passenger seat as they drove, destination unknown.

/Please don't hurt Anya...oh, God...what if they killed her? What if those Initiative doctors dissected her? Why is this happening to us?/

"Where are you taking me?" he demanded after five minutes of dead silence.

"No questions." Graham turned his head to face Xander, quieting him with a withering look. "Open the glove box."

Xander opened the glove box, and his heart raced when he saw what was inside: a shiny pair of handcuffs. He coughed and looked over at the driver fearfully, knowing full well what the soldier would demand next. He also hated knowing that he would do whatever Riley's friend asked until he knew Anya was out of danger.

"Put them on, behind your back," Graham ordered. "Show me when you've secured them tightly."

Xander tentatively picked up the cuffs...they were colder and heavier than he expected. He traced his finger around the hard, unyielding arch of the cuff.

/Riley's a good man...if these guys are friends, then I shouldn't be afraid of him, right? This must just be some sort of military protocol before they let me enter their compound. Riley won't let the Initiative do anything bad to me.../

"Do it now, Harris!" he demanded.

"I'm doing it! Stop barking orders at me, I'm not one of your soldiers!" replied Xander hotly. He struggled with the bracelets behind his back, but managed to close them around his wrists. He turned his back towards the driver, to prove that he was restrained. "See? Happy now?"

Graham merely stared at him, stoic as ever.

Xander growled in frustration and tried unsuccessfully to find a comfortable position with his arms pinned behind him. There was an awkward silence again as Graham drove. The Bronco passed through downtown Sunnydale, pausing only at traffic lights and stop signs.

It took Xander every ounce of restraint he had to keep from pressing against the window and screaming at passing drivers and pedestrians to help him, but he feared the consequences of angering the commando. Fifteen minutes later, the Bronco left the outskirts of Sunnydale, driving north on I-5.

/I can't take this Marcel Marceau routine anymore, he's driving me crazy!/

"Hey! Major Talkative! You still haven't told me what you want..."

With lightning quickness, Graham backhanded Xander roughly, slamming him into the car seat. Xander's eyes widened in shock.

"You will speak only when I ask you a direct question, dog. Do you understand?"

"Go to hell, Gomer Pyle, you can't do this to me! I'm an American citizen...and so is Anya...sort of! Let go of me, right now!" Xander's eyes burned defiantly, and he struggled to open the power windows with his bound hands.

Graham braked the vehicle, hard, and pulled over to the side of the road. He grabbed Xander by his unruly brown hair, and yanked him cruelly over to the driver's seat.

"Owww! Leggo, you sissy hair puller!" Graham clamped his hand firmly over the resisting boy's mouth, and whispered harshly in his ear.

"Do you want your infernal, disgusting little whore to die?" Xander shook his head slowly, his lips crushed under the force of Graham's fingers. "Disobey me, and you'll both pay the price. Obedience and discipline are the only things that will keep her alive, dog. I will not tolerate any more transgressions. You will obey all my commands without hesitation. You will only speak when I give you permission. You will always address me with the proper respect, and answer my questions with 'yes, sir' or 'no, sir.' Do you understand?" He released Xander's mouth.

"Y-yes," Xander muttered. Graham delivered a strong poke to Xander's kidney, and he gasped sharply. "Yes...sir!"

"Good." The soldier shoved the dumbfounded young man back to his seat, and started driving again.

/I am so stupid...why did I get in the car? Why did I put on the handcuffs? He's crazy! Not eccentric-wacky-fun crazy. He's serial-killer-buries-people-in-the-basement, get-me-the-fuck-out-of-here crazy! We already passed UC Sunnydale...we're not going to the Initiative compound. He's taking me somewhere else! Now would be a very good time for Buffy to show up!/

Xander watched his captor quietly. He finally remembered his name...Graham. He'd seen him with Riley once or twice, with all the other Initiative agents. He had typical fraternity guy good looks, but none of the frivolity associated with the Greeks. This man looked like he ate, drank, slept, and breathed the military. Graham was serious, severe, and completely disciplined, whereas Xander was sarcastic, laid back, and totally disorganized. The two men were polar opposites: Scholar and slacker. Soldier and civilian. Predator and prey.

It was almost nightfall when the Bronco pulled off the main highway onto a side road, driving a few miles before reaching an old desolate, boarded up gas station. The station was miles away from town, and there weren't any other businesses nearby. The gas pumps were rusted, and the sign advertising the gas company was missing. Chevron? Amoco? Couldn't tell anymore...it didn't look like the gas station had been used in over ten years. There were no other cars parked around the garage.

/Anya? Where is she? I don't think she's in there...it looks empty...damn it! I don't like this. My spooky meter is on total sensory overload!/

Graham parked the Bronco behind the garage. Several large trees obstructed the view, so it would be difficult, if not impossible, to see the dark vehicle from the main road.

Xander tensed as he waited for what would happen next. His eyes pleaded with Graham for answers, but got only the same eerie and now familiar silence. Graham stepped out of the Bronco, and walked over to open the passenger door.

Before Xander could even consider fleeing, Graham grasped him by the shoulders firmly and tugged him out of the car to stand before him. He pressed his captive against the side of the vehicle. They were only inches apart. Xander could smell Graham's musky aftershave, could feel the strength of the soldier's super-conditioned body. He could see the ripples of Graham's well-toned muscles even beneath his clothes.

Xander was also very disturbed to see that his abductor was hard. The unmistakable bulge of an erection pushed against the other man's camouflage pants. He looked away, embarrassed to be so close to him, horrified to think about the implications of the man's arousal.

Graham pulled a silver briefcase from behind the passenger seat, closed the car door, then grabbed the collar of Xander's wrinkled green and brown bowling shirt, and led him to the garage. Xander stumbled as he tried to keep up with him, his fear increasing with every step.

/What does he want with me? Why has he brought me here? Is he some kind of monster? Is he going to rip me apart and eat my brain? Why won't he tell me what's going on? Why am I such a wimp - I should be fighting with this guy, not following him around! But...his eyes. They're so blank, so emotionless. He meant every word he said about killing Anya. I have to do what he says!/

The padlock on the gas station door had recently been jimmied, and it hung broken from the latch. The door creaked as Graham opened it, and he shoved Xander inside. "Walk to the center of the room, and stand still."

Xander glowered at his abductor, but did as he was told, and walked to the middle of the service bay. The sunset was partially visible through the dirty and broken windows of the garage entrance doors, and the room was bathed with alternating patches of cool shadows and warm, fading orange light. Chains dangled from the ceiling, old batteries and tires littered the floor, and scattered workbenches were covered with dust and cobwebs. The garage still had the lingering odor of motor oil and gasoline.

Graham walked over to a workbench, keeping his eye on his nervous prisoner, and opened the briefcase. He fiddled with something behind the lid that Xander couldn't see.

/He's going to hurt me. He looks at me like I'm some bug he needs to squash, like I'm a stupid, insignificant little nothing. He's going to kill me, and no one will ever know what happened!/

Xander couldn't contain his panic any longer, and made a dash for the front exit. His hands behind his back, he tried desperately to turn the knob, but it was locked...Graham was on him in moments, and he tossed the younger man back to the center of the room. Xander tripped over a battery, and fell to the hard cement floor with a painful thud.

He looked up to see Graham hovering over him, a long metal rod in his hand. Graham poked Xander's thigh with the rod, and his body immediately seized, engulfed in searing electric agony. Blue sparks cascaded from the tip of the prod, and Xander shrieked.

"Stop it!" he begged, as he curled up on the floor and groaned. The electric shock was easily the worst pain Xander had ever endured, and his muscles continued to twitch after the strong jolt. "What the hell does the Initiative want with me and Anya? We're no threat to you!"

Graham laughed. It was a hollow, empty, cruel sound, lacking any humor. "Oh, the Initiative would never want anyone as useless and pathetic as you, Harris. You're a disgrace to the human race." He kicked Xander and forced him to roll on his back, and he waved the prod just a few inches away from the trembling man's face. "Did you forget my instructions? I told you to be quiet and stand still, dog."

"Why are you doing this to me? You don't even know me!" Xander screamed as Graham pressed the prod into his chest. His eyes filled with tears as he convulsed from the electric shock.

"You'd be surprised how much I know about you, Harris. My superiors assigned me a surveillance mission to gather as much information about Buffy Summers' associates as possible." Graham circled around his prey. Xander lied shaking on the ground, breathing heavily.

/He's been spying on us? Is Riley a spy, too? Is Buffy in danger?/

"Your full name is Alexander LaVelle Harris. Nineteen years of age. Only child, still living at home in your parents' basement. You graduated from Sunnydale High School last year with a 2.3 grade point average. You applied to five different colleges, but weren't accepted to any. You've had six jobs in the last five months, and you were fired from four of them. You currently work for Mr. Alberto Montoya, an ice cream novelty distributor. You are paid $8.00 an hour, and after work you like to visit your demonic little tramp and watch 'The Simpsons' while you eat dinner together. You always arrive home from work between 18:00 and 18:20 hours."

Graham ticked off Xander's biography quickly and succinctly, like he was conducting a military debriefing. He leaned over and pulled the increasingly horrified youth to his feet, and the two men stood face to face as the soldier continued.

"You have exactly $238.52 in your checking account. The password to your voicemail account is 0874. The carton of 2% milk in your refrigerator expired yesterday. You left a load of laundry in the washer last night that hasn't been dried yet. You haven't changed your bed sheets in three weeks. You wear boxers, not briefs. You prefer sleeping on the left side of the bed. When you fornicate with your hellspawn girlfriend, you produce little 'unh' sounds deep in your throat right before you ejaculate." With the last comment, Graham brushed himself against Xander, and the boy could feel the soldier's erection poking against his hip.

/He's been in my house! He's seen me with Anya! I can't believe he's been watching me, stalking me, and I never even knew!/

"Shut up," demanded a teary-eyed Xander through clenched teeth. "How dare you invade my privacy like that! Who do you think you are?"

Graham smiled, and he shocked his prisoner again. Xander howled, and Graham grabbed him and held him steady to prevent him from falling. "I did not give you permission to speak! You are such a stupid, worthless, little nobody," he spat, as he gripped Xander's chin. "You make me sick. After seeing how you live, I took it upon myself to make you my special project, dog. You think you're some kind of soldier? What a joke! You're a disgrace to all of us who wear the uniform! You lack dedication, purpose and control. You fraternize with HSTs, when you should be killing them. You need discipline, Harris. Don't you agree?"

Xander shivered, his body covered in cold sweat, his muscles aching from the electrical pulses. He couldn't bear to look at the cruel face of the man who was torturing him.

/I'm not here. This isn't happening to me./

"I asked you a question, dog! Answer me," demanded Graham as he forced Xander to look him in the eyes.

/This is just a nightmare...it isn't real...it isn't real.../

Graham waved the prod just under his captive's face. He activated the power cell, and the sparks licked at Xander's chin.

/No, please don't touch me with that again! I'll say whatever you want!/

"Yes...yes, sir. I...I need discipline, sir," Xander cried, his face burning with shame.

Graham straightened, a satisfied half-grin on his lips. "Good. That was very good. Rules are very important, Harris. Never violate the rules, or you will be severely punished. Are you paying attention?"

"Yes, sir," responded Xander weakly.

"Listen carefully to what I'm about to play for you." Graham reached into the briefcase and pulled out a recording device. He tapped a button, and Anya's voice jumped out:

//...I'm scared, honey. What if those awful Initiative soldiers find out I'm not really a girl, but a thousand-year-old demon? Will Riley tell them? What if they come for me, Xander?//

Xander heard his own voice next:

//Shh...don't worry, baby. I won't let anything happen to you, I promise. Those army guys will never take you away from me, I won't let them.//

Graham hit the stop button. "The whore is safe. She left you a voicemail earlier saying that she had to run an errand for Mr. Giles, and she'd be back later." Xander sighed, his breath catching in his throat, relieved that she wasn't dead.

"But unless you follow the rules, I will provide this tape to my superiors. When they find out about Anyanka, they will make her disappear. The Initiative has research facilities all over the world, not just Sunnydale. You will never, ever see her again. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," he whispered.

"I can't hear you!"

"Yes, sir!" Xander cried, his voice hoarse and cracked.

/I won't lose you, Anya. He can do whatever he wants to me, but I'll never let anyone hurt you./

"Good boy. Stand over by that table." Graham disassembled the hateful metal rod, and placed it back in the briefcase. Xander mutely followed Graham's instructions.

"Lean over the counter," Graham murmured. He unbuckled his belt.

Xander bent forward over the workbench, resting his weary torso on the filthy surface. He pressed his cheek against the cold metal, and he stared out the cracked windows at the setting sun.

He shuddered, but didn't resist when Graham pressed himself against Xander's buttocks, and reached below him to tug open his jeans. Xander wriggled his hips to allow him access, and continued to stare at the sunset.

/Orange. Orange Creamsicles. Pop Goes the Weasel. Have to work tomorrow, don't forget. Filling in for Nathan while he's on vacation. Anya and I should plan a vacation soon, maybe we'll drive up and see the redwoods.../

Graham slid Xander's jeans and underwear down, and they pooled around his ankles. He cupped the youth's round buttocks, pinching them, caressing them. Xander grunted and clenched his bound hands, his cock pushed against the cool metal table. The soldier's hair lightly brushed against Xander's fingers. He gasped when he felt Graham's tongue lick the cold sweat from his lower back and the dip of his buttocks.

/Not real. This is not real. Just a nightmare, and I'll wake up soon. Please let me wake up soon.../

He heard the older man fiddling with something in the briefcase behind him. Xander couldn't stifle a startled cry when Graham pushed his slick thumb into his anus. He groaned as Graham probed him, stretched him. If it hurt having just two and a half inches of thumb inside of him, he didn't want to imagine what his penis would feel like. Graham continued to slowly twist and move his thumb inside of Xander, curling the rest of his hand around his ass cheek. Xander could feel Graham's waiting cock nudging him, slippery with pre-cum, as his thumb and fingers delved into his passage and prepared him.

Xander closed his eyes. He could almost taste the oil and grime coating the table. He hissed when Graham entered him, pressing his iron hard cock through rings of muscle, filling him completely. The pain was excruciating. There wasn't any safe refuge left for Xander, no escape from this man who had invaded his life as cruelly as he was now invading his body. Desperate to distract himself from his current situation, he focused on the song that had been running through his head all day.

/...all around the cobbler's bench the monkey chased the weasel.../

Graham proceeded to thrust into his captive, using slow, hard, calculated strokes. His balls resounded against Xander buttocks with each powerful thrust. The soldier's face contorted into an ugly mask of hatred and anger. He muttered while he grinded his hips against the helpless youth, punctuating each phrase with a vicious jab of his cock.

"You disgust me. You need to be taught a lesson. You need this, dog. You need to be reminded about what's important."

The methodical pounding went on and on, and Xander sobbed quietly, wishing it would end, wishing the brief flashes of pleasure he experienced every time the intruding cock probed his prostate would disappear. He hated that he could feel his own cock betraying him, semi-hard against the cold metal surface. He couldn't even control his own body anymore.

Graham's thrusts got longer, rougher, as he reached the pinnacle. Xander couldn't muffle his loud groans as the soldier's cock rammed into him.

/...(UNH!) Pop! (UNH!) Goes the weasel.../

"You're a disgrace to the Initiative. No discipline, no self control. Off fucking that blonde little freak, when you should be paying attention to your responsibilities. You're a traitor, fraternizing with hostile sub-terrestrials! You deserve this!"

/What? (UNH!) Anya's not (UNH!) blonde...(UNH!)/

Graham grunted, and jerked violently inside of Xander, his seed storming the hot entrance and overtaking the captured youth's tight passage. He panted and smoothed the bangs out of his face as he pulled out of the Xander, who lied silent and quivering on the workbench, tears rolling down his cheeks.

Xander listened but didn't watch as Graham adjusted himself and straightened out his fatigues. He flinched when he felt the soldier grab his wrists, and heard a clink as the handcuffs were removed. His arms dropped heavily to his sides, but he remained where he was.

Waiting for instructions.

"Get up. Clean yourself up and get dressed, you miserable little faggot." He reached into the briefcase and pulled out a towel, and threw it at Xander.

Xander pushed himself painfully off of the table, and took the white towel. Gingerly, he dabbed at his tortured buttocks and thighs. He could try to wipe away the sweat, semen and blood, but he would never be able to remove the shame. When he'd cleaned up the evidence of his assault, he gently folded the foul rag and placed it on the table. He shakily pulled up his pants and buttoned them, and straightened his shirt. He stood at attention, eyes downcast, as he was scrutinized by his captor.

/I'm disgusting...weak, pathetic, dirty, worthless. I'm nothing./

"Show me some gratitude for teaching you the error of your ways," demanded Graham.

Xander squeezed his eyes shut, humiliated at the prospect of thanking the man who had just tortured and raped him. But he obeyed. "Thank you, sir. I needed discipline, sir." His voice trembled when he spoke, filled with self-loathing.

"Good boy. Get in the car, we're leaving now."

Xander meekly followed the commando out to the Bronco, and waited as Graham opened the door for him. He pulled himself inside the vehicle, and sat quietly, his hands folded in his lap. Graham started the car, and pulled away from the gas station.

They drove the entire way home in utter silence. The sun was gone, and Xander looked out the window at his dark surroundings. Evil things come out at night in Sunnydale. Demons, vampires, and murderous beasts. But Xander never imagined that the most vile, cruel monster he would ever encounter...would be a human being.

Graham stopped the car at the same spot where he had parked before, right in front of Anya's apartment complex. Xander's heart pounded in his chest, he was so anxious to finally be rid of this man.

/It's over. I never want to see anyone from the Initiative ever again! Anya and I are going to leave tomorrow, and I don't care where we go, but we're never coming back to Sunnydale. He'll never find us. He'll never touch me again. Never./

Graham turned to Xander, his face cool and commanding, full of authority.

"There's one last rule, Harris. If you want to continue keeping your lover out of the Initiative's reach, you will never speak of our training sessions to anyone. When you and the slut were sleeping last night, I irradiated both of you with a radioactive compound that can be easily detected by any of our government's spy satellites. You can't run, and you can't hide from the U.S. military. Do you understand?"

Xander's mouth dropped, and he shook his head slowly, not wanting to understand the implication of Graham's words.

/Training sessions. Sessions, with an 's.' Plural. As in more than one.../

Graham grabbed the sides of Xander's face, and pulled him close. "Answer, me, dog. Your ass belongs to me now, and you will obey. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," he whimpered, tears welling up again in his bloodshot, pain-filled eyes. Graham slapped him.

"Stop crying, it's a sign of weakness! I won't tolerate weakness." He caressed Xander's reddened cheek. "I can see that I have a lot of hard work ahead of me. I will teach you to become a disciplined man, Harris. You'll learn to respect authority, rules, and order. Just like me. You'll thank me when I've finished with you." He released Xander's face. "Go now. I'll contact you later with further instructions."

Horror-stricken, Xander exited the Bronco, and watched Graham drive down the street. His legs buckled, and he fell to his knees. He vomited into the grass, heaving over and over, trying to purge himself of the memories of his terrifying ordeal. But knowing with a sinking heart that it wasn't finished, and that his nightmare was only beginning.

***END***