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Stockholm Series

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Mirage trudged along a newly rebuilt walkway in Iacon. For the most part, his Autobot brand meant that he was ignored by the other Cybertronians he came across- free Decepticons, all. He didn't know why, but there were very few slaves in this sector. Because of his electro-disruptor he had used in the war, Mirage had become adept at avoiding collisions, and even though he did not have the device any more he used the skill to try and remain unnoticed.

Breakdown was the Stunticon who most often used his electro-disruptor, but today Motormaster had taken it for some purpose he hadn't seen fit to explain to the others. Mirage didn't really care, except that it meant that the paranoid Breakdown sent him out to complete any errands that needed doing.

Besides relegating all captured Autobots to slave status, the new Decepticon government of Cybertron had put other sanctions in place. Among those was the ruling that Autobots unaccompanied by their masters were not allowed to transform in public.

Mirage looked jealously down at the street level where other mechs zipped along effortlessly in alt mode. These inane tasks Breakdown sent him on took four times as long because he had to go alone and walk everywhere. During the war he had wanted nothing more than to return to Cybertron and see his planet rebuilt to its former glory. At the rate the Decepticons were moving, it looked like that would happen sooner rather than later.
I just didn't expect to live in my former home as chattel, thought Mirage.

"Watch it, slave!" The exclamation was accompanied by a cuff to his helm. Lost in his own thoughts, Mirage had bumped into the back of another mech. He kept his optics on the ground, mumbled an apology, and backed away.
There was a crowd of mechs standing at an intersection blocking the path. Mirage cycled his vents in frustration. The frenzied pace of rebuilding and construction often caused routes to change without warning. It looked like they were letting mechs through at intervals, but as a slave Mirage would have to wait until absolutely no Decepticons were waiting to cross. He reversed his direction and headed down a side street. It would be a more roundabout way, but at least then he would be only slightly late, and have a chance of getting back to the quarters he shared with the Stunticons before Motormaster returned. The large semi was very displeased if Mirage wasn't ready and waiting for him when he came back to their living unit.

Mirage paused at an intersection to get his bearings. If he cut through several alleys, and they weren't blocked with rubble, he would come out only three sections away from home.

Startled, Mirage examined his thoughts. Yes, he did think of the cramped, noisy rooms that the Stunticons inhabited as home now. The notion was unsettling. Had he really become so used to the situation? Mirage gave up that line of thinking as a bad job, and continued on his way.

The first alley was clear, but the next was absolutely choked. Mirage's shoulder wheels slumped in defeat. It looked like he would simply have to take whatever Motormaster decided to deal out for his tardiness. Mirage turned around, intending to backtrack.

The way out was blocked by three Decepticons.

Mirage didn't recognize them, but lately more and more of the scattered Decepticon forces had been returning to Cybertron, and he found himself recognizing very few mechs on the street.

"Well, well, well – what do we have here?" a hulking mech with a frame that suggested a tetrajet alt mode said.

How cliché, thought Mirage. 'Is that the best they can come up with?' He backed into the rubble pile.

Mirage wasn't too worried- all he had to do was mention Motormaster, and any 'Cons taking liberties with property that didn't belong to them usually left in a hurry.

"I think it's a little lost Autobot," replied one of his companions. "It should be careful, walking around all alone – someone might take advantage."

"I am already spoken for," Mirage said, keeping his eyes on their approaching pedes lest he end up slagged for 'not showing respect'. "If you wish to negotiate for services, you will have to speak with my owner, Motormaster." When he had first been taken by the Stunticons, having to utter those words just to get some 'Con to stop groping him had been galling, and most had laughed at the way he stuttered through it. Now, the words came automatically. Mirage felt that he should feel defeated or sad that they were spoken so naturally, but all he could feel was a crushing tiredness.

"Huh! Do they give you pieces of slag scripts or something?" the seeker hissed. "That's what the other little car said. Not that it made any difference." Mirage's head snapped up and he suddenly found himself pressed against the pile of rubble, the seeker's hand around his neck.

Mirage couldn't even struggle – another part of the Decepticon sanctions against the Autobots was the installation of programs and subroutines that prevented any violence or physical resistance towards a Decepticon. All he could do was put his hands against the other's chassis and push weakly.

"I think I like this one better, Stormwing." The third seeker said. "You couldn't see the fear in the other 'Bot's face 'cause of his visor." He reached down and grabbed Mirage's hip plate, groping him and feeling for the panel that covered Mirage's valve. Mirage's legs twitched, but all of his commands to kick out were overridden by the pacifying programming.

Mirage was becoming more panicked now. This was wrong, he belonged to Motormaster and the Stunticons! Nobody else was allowed to touch him! As soon as the thought flashed into his processor, Mirage felt some surprise at himself. What did it matter which 'Con was 'facing him? But he felt like it did matter now. "My master will be very angry-" he started, but was silenced with a slap from the seeker called Stormwing. The tetrajet threw him on the ground and began to kick him savagely.

Mirage tried to crawl away, scrabbling on the loose rubble that littered the alley. A hand grabbed his shoulder axle and dragged him back, throwing him to the ground once more. He hunkered down, trying to get his CPU in order to think of a way out of this. They had attacked another Autobot, and didn't care about the rules about hassling some else's slave. Mirage shivered. His best option would be to simply capitulate, and hope they didn't slag him up too much.

"Don't interrupt your betters, Auto-whore!"

One of the seekers kicked Mirage in his abdomen, stalling his fans. His engine sputtered as he struggled to keep enough air flowing through his intakes to support combustion. This couldn't be happening! Even if they didn't care about the rules, they had to care about Motormaster!

"P-please don't!" Mirage gasped. A hand reached down and drew him to his feet only to knock him down again. Out of long ingrained habit, Mirage tried to send a distress signal, but was unsuccessful. His comm had been damaged when he and his team were taken, and none of the Stunticons had thought it worth the effort and expense to get it repaired.

Now the three pairs of distinctive seeker pedes surrounded him. Mirage remained hunkered down on his hands and knee-joints. His spark quailed in his chest at the thought of what was inevitably going to happen to him. As one of his assailants pushed him down and rolled him onto his back with deceptive gentleness, Mirage found that he could only think about what Motormaster's reaction would be. Would he get rid of Mirage? Force him to leave? Mirage couldn't believe it, but he didn't want to leave the Stunticons. He had become …accustomed to living with them, and now knew all of their individual quirks. And…it was nice to know that his master was one of the most respected (well, feared but that was the same thing to Decepticons) mechs in the city.

As his legs were forced apart, Mirage covered his face with his hands, hoping that this would be over with soon. "I don't know why you're so weepy," Stormwing leered, looking at the scuffed and worn paint on Mirage's inner thighs and hip plate. "It's obvious you've had your gears stripped plenty already. Hah!"

The tetrajet's disgusting weight settled on top of him, and the seeker grabbed Mirage's wrists to force his hands away.

"No hiding, little Autobot! I want to see your face when I make you moan for me!" Mirage tried to force himself to relax, and shut off his optics as the seeker made as if to enter him.

Suddenly, there was a commotion above them. Shrieks and clangs of tortured metal echoed around the alley. Mirage felt Stormwing jerk in surprise above him, and then the heavy weight was lifted off. All it took was one look at the distinctive black truck-cab pedes that had joined the seeker turbine-heels for Mirage to roll out of the way and scramble for cover. Mirage only caught a few snatches of words over the din.

"What do you think you're doing? Don't interfere!"

"That slave is MINE, and anyone who touches him without my say so gets slagged, but good!" Mirage had never thought that he would be happy to hear Motormaster's voice, but a wave of relief swept through him upon hearing his master's threat.

Mirage cringed as more sounds of metal impacting metal reached his audio receptors. He felt the air displacement as a mech was hurled over his head and landed in the rubble pile. The seeker apparently decided Mirage wasn't worth the trouble and transformed and flew vertically out of the alley.

"How dare you lay your filthy actuators on seekers, ground pounder!" Mirage risked a glance up, to see Stormwing and Motormaster squaring off. The third seeker was looking much less confident, hanging back and looking around for exit routes.

"I didn't take slag from seekers on earth and I'm not going to take it from upstarts who didn't even fight alongside Megatron!" Motormaster growled back as they circled each other. The seeker finally made his move, but Motormaster countered, hauling the tetrajet around and slamming him into a wall and holding him there by his neck strut. Stormwing kicked and fired his turbines, but nothing would make Motormaster release his grip. Mirage doubted anything Stormwing could do would shake Motormaster. He had seen the Stunticon leader subdue Breakdown with no visible effort, even when the Lamborghini was using his vibro-frequency.

For a nano-klik Mirage felt a stutter in his spark. Watching Motormaster's display of strength made him feel…proud of his Master. Mirage decided not to analyze that emotion too closely.

"You're new here so I'm not going to rip your vocalizer out through your afterburner this time, and I'll give you some free advice. Don't go sparkin' with things that don't belong to you. And get out of this city – I have a hunch that you're the ones that slagged up Soundwave's little 'bot last orn, and he isn't happy about that."

The seeker's cocky attitude evaporated immediately. "S-Soundwave?" he stuttered. "That piece of aft belonged to Soundwave?"

Motormaster chuckled darkly. "Yup. And he's got all of his cassettes out lookin' for the fools that did it."

There was a roar from the end of the alley where the seeker that was hanging back blasted off into the air. Stormwing made to follow, and Motormaster let him go, laughing to himself as Stormwing followed his deserting friend, yelling inarticulate curses.

Then Motormaster stopped laughing as suddenly as he had started, turning slowly around to face Mirage. The tall mech's purple optics burned in their housing, and Mirage quailed. Usually when Motormaster turned that look on him, he knew he was going to be 'faced mercilessly in short order. It was probably too much to hope that Motormaster would wait until they were back in their quarters.

"M-master," Mirage whispered, lifting himself to his knees and bowing his head in a submissive posture. "Thank you-"

Mirage's words ended in a surprised squeak as he was jerked off of the ground and held against the wall, just like Stormwing had been a few moments before.

"You know the rules, slave!" Motormaster growled, his powerful engine creating a menacing undertone. "No 'facing anyone outside of the gestalt!"

"Master, I d-didn't want-"

Mirage was again cut off, this time as Motormaster gave him a cruel blow to the side of his helm. Mirage's head snapped to the side and warnings flashed on his HUD. He was sure a few of his circuit boards had been knocked loose.

"Be quiet, you little piece of shareware." Motormaster dropped a hand to Mirage's pelvic unit and pried his access panel open. "I'm going to have to remind you who you belong to." Mirage was only able to get out a whimper before the large black mech entered him roughly, making Mirage scream in pain. He was lifted so that his back strut was braced against the wall and he automatically wrapped his legs around Motormaster's waist.

Pinned as he was between the thrusting, relentless pushing of the Stunticon's chest assembly and the wall, Mirage couldn't do anything other than grasp at Motormaster's shoulders and try to hold on. His vents hitched in time to Motormaster's rhythm. The pain continued, as it always did. There was just too much of a size difference between the two mechs, and Motormaster would never even entertain the notion of changing the way he interfaced: not for his teammates, let alone Mirage.

The back of Mirage's helm hit the wall every time Motormaster surged forward. Mirage found that he was unable to simply endure the ordeal like he had during previous encounters. "Ughn…Master!- Ah! Please-" Mirage begged, though he didn't know what he was begging for. He felt like the semi's spike was going to impale his spark chamber, and the unusual position was putting strain on unaccustomed parts in his valve.

"What?" growled Motormaster in Mirage's audio. The black mech gave an exceptionally hard push and held it, squeezing Mirage mercilessly between himself and the wall. "What are you going to do?" he leered, as Mirage writhed in agony against him, the Liger's pedes and legs alternately kicking out and wrapping themselves around the black chassis. "Beg me to go easy on you? Why should I do that? You're the one who was sparking around outside of the team, looking to get 'faced into the ground. But don't worry, I'll put a new thread in you, show you your place." Motormaster continued with his assault. The fight with the seekers had left him very riled up, and he was expending all of his built up energy on the hapless Mirage.

"Please Master, it wasn't like that!" Mirage pleaded. A burning sensation was building in his lower chassis – had Motormaster ruptured something? It flared in response to every thrust, and built to an incredible buzzing feeling as Motormaster grabbed Mirage's hands and pinned them to the wall on either side of the Autobot's head. "B-Break – ah! – down sent me out and I didn't –ngh!- want to be late…"

Suddenly the thrusting stopped once more, and Motormaster released one of Mirage's hands to connect his sizable fist with the side of Mirage's helm. The blow was hard enough that Mirage's processor lost control of his hydraulics for a klik, and he sagged in Motormaster's grasp. Motormaster grabbed Mirage's throat and squeezed just hard enough to dent his dermal plating slightly.

"I don't accept excuses, slave!" He began pistoning in and out of Mirage once more, and Mirage couldn't believe that Motormaster was managing to be even more forceful now. Mirage couldn't even summon the processor power to react, he felt as if his chassis and substructure was going to be shaken apart, and everything hurt. As compromised hydraulics and joints loosened in the face of the onslaught, the burning-buzzing sensation ripped through his chassis. Mirage thought Motormaster must have surely broken something now. It wasn't until too late that he recognized the sensation for what it was – an impending overload. It had been so long-

"MASTER!" the cry ripped from Mirage's vocalizer. It wasn't clear whether it was a plea for more or a plea for mercy. He had no control over his systems any more. There was too much energy that needed to be released from his frame, and he lost count of how many times he crested the waves of release. It was a hideous mix of pain and pleasure– each spasm that shook his frame felt like things were being pulled and twisted inside Mirage. Motormaster's powerful movements pushed Mirage over the edge.

Finally the last wave of burning agony faded into the general background discomfort of Motormaster abusing him. Mirage powered up his optics when he noticed that Motormaster's rhythm had slowed once more. The big mech was sneering at him with barely concealed rage in his optics.

"What…was that?" he growled, voice low and dangerous. "Did I give you permission to overload?"

"N-no, Master, I'm sorry-" Motormaster pulled roughly out of Mirage and let him fall unceremoniously to the ground.

"You really are a piece of shareware, aren't you?" He didn't seem to really want an answer, so Mirage remained silent, holding himself and trembling. Spare current was still coursing through his frame, and occasionally grounding itself. "For all your prissiness you like a mech that 'faces your paint off. Well, I'll give you want you want!" Motormaster grabbed Mirage's shoulder axle and forced him to his hands and knee joints. Mirage could see that Motormaster's spike was still extended, and he started shaking harder. After the overload, his valve felt many times more sensitive, Mirage couldn't fathom how much it would hurt to have this rough treatment continue.

Motormaster continued his pressure on Mirage's axle until the Autobot yielded and lowered his upper body to the ground. Motormaster's hand on his aft ensured that it stayed raised. Mirage buried his face in his forearms, waiting for the assault to begin anew.

Motormaster knelt behind Mirage and entered him again; Mirage had to brace himself to keep from being pushed forward over the ground. "I can see that I'm going to have to give you another lesson about the rules," Motormaster hissed in Mirage's audio.

"Rule number one," he punctuated his words with a sharp push, making Mirage cry out. "I'm the leader of the gestalt. Not Breakdown. You don't go anywhere outside without my permission. Got that?"

"Yes, Master." Mirage's voice was muffled. Motormaster grabbed one of his helm vents and jerked Mirage's head up and out of his arms.

"I can't hear you! What will you do?"

"I'll only go outside with your permission, Master!" Mirage said desperately. Then he gasped as Motormaster fumbled around on his interface array, and began to tease Mirage's spike housing.

"Good," rumbled Motormaster. "Rule number two," there was another savage push; "you don't sneak around. Stay on the main streets." He paused, waiting for Mirage to reply.

"Yes, Master. I will only walk on main streets-ah!" Mirage bit back a cry. Motormaster had succeeded in making Mirage's own interface spike extend, and had given it a stroke in response to Mirage's answer. That part of him had been long neglected, and despite the draining overload he had had before, Mirage felt his systems start warming up and responding to the touch.

"Rule number three; don't act like a two-credit tramp with other mechs."

"But Master, I didn't-" Immediately the hand on his spike turned cruel, wrenching it and making Mirage yell in pain and surprise. Motormaster then pushed in and out of his valve several times, prompting Mirage to yell again. He could feel Motormaster holding himself above Mirage, the larger mech's frame trembling in an effort to hold himself back from his own overload.

"What's rule number three, slave?!"

"I w-won't act like a-a tramp with other mechs, Master."

"Good." The hand between his legs stopped twisting. "Rule number four, you don't overload without permission."

"Yes Master, I won't overload without p-permission." Mirage's voice hitched as the hand resumed stroking him. The slave had endured quite a few indignities in his time with Stunticons, but this was the lowest he'd ever felt. And yet...Mirage felt a kind of freedom in the knowledge that he would never have to make decisions for himself again. He could lay that burden on Motormaster... his master.

During the War, Mirage had often had to make split second decisions where other mech's lives were on the line. To the Towers-raised noblemech, the often nebulous hierarchy with the Autobot forces had always made him feel uneasy and adrift, as if he didn't quite know his status.

With Motormaster and the Stunticons, he knew his place, and even though it was at the bottom of the pecking order, that knowledge gave him comfort.

Mirage felt himself relaxing further in relief at this realization. He didn't have to do anything; only yield to Motormaster, and everything would be alright.

Motormaster rumbled in amusement as he felt the tension leave Mirage's frame. "That's it, slave. Moan for me!" Mirage gave a keening groan in response. His hip plate began to move almost involuntarily into Motormaster's hand.

"Pl- please, Master!" Mirage gasped. His systems were well on their way to a second overload.

"Please what?"

"Please let me overload, Master!"

"Hmm, I don't know if I -uh!- should." Mirage could almost hear the sadistic smile in Motormaster's voice. "Maybe I should just leave you like this, make you walk home revved up like this-" His thrusts sped, and Mirage could tell that Motormaster was not going to stop them this time. The movements pushed Mirage back and forth over the ground, scraping his forearms and knee-joints.

"Oh! Please Master, mercy! Please let me overload!" Mirage threw the tattered remains of his dignity away, his voice needy and pleading.

"Not so aloof now, are you? What are the rules?"

"I won't go outside without -ah!- your permission, Master. I will stay on the -the main streets-oh please Master!"

"Keep going!" Motormaster slapped Mirage's aft.

"I won't act like- a t-tramp with other mechs, Master! I will only overload with your permission, Master, oh please please, Master, please!" Mirage was caught between the wonderful sensations in his spike, and the pain of his abused valve. "Please Master may I overload, please!" He was on the cusp, and every movement of Motormaster inside him threatened to push him over the edge. The Autobot knew though that any punishment heretofore now would seem insignificant compared to what Motormaster would do to him if he overloaded without express leave now.

"Only for me, you only overload for me!"

"Yes, Master! Only for you, Master!"

"Then do it now, you little slut!"

"Oooh, Master!" Mirage cried as he gave himself up to his second overload. He could feel Motormaster pumping his valve savagely, but the pain was mitigated by the amazing feeling of the hand on his spike. All of Mirage's limbs jerked and twitched, and his leg struts gave out as he overloaded. Motormaster pushed in three more times, then stiffened as he finished. His large engine roared and the vibrations shook Mirage to his core.

When Motormaster withdrew, Mirage could not summon the energy to rise from his prone position on the ground. He only twitched a little when Motormaster replaced the panel that concealed his overheated valve.

Finally Motormaster had enough of waiting and poked him with his pede. "C'mon, get up. What do you say?"

Mirage raised himself slowly on shaking arms. "Thank you, Master." There was a sharper nudge.

"Properly."

"Yes, Master." The Autobot crawled over to Motormaster and placed a kiss on his pede. "Thank you, Master."

"That's a good slave." Mirage was stunned to feel a hand reach down and stroke along one of his helm crests. He was surprised to find himself leaning into the touch. "It occurs to me that I need some way to make sure others know that you're off limits, no matter how much you wave your aft in front of them." Mirage bit back a protest. He didn't want to do anything that would turn the gentle touch cruel again.

Motormaster stalked over to the rubble pile and sat down on an exposed beam. "Come here," he patted his lap as he pulled a stylus from a subspace pocket. Mirage stood on unsteady legs and staggered over to the Stunticon. Motormaster grabbed his arm as soon as Mirage was in range, and pulled him so that he lay over the black lap, aft raised.

"This will make sure any mech with more ball-bearings than processor power knows what's what," Motormaster muttered as he scribbled glyphs onto Mirage's hip plate. When he was done, Motormaster pushed Mirage up and off his lap, and growled with amusement at the way Mirage struggled to stand up straight. "It's just as well you won't be going out any time soon, you won't be able to walk straight for a few cycles!"

Mirage simply stared at the ground, waiting for Motormaster to decide he had had enough and was ready to go home. His processor knew that he should feel resentment and anger towards the hulking black Decepticon, but instead all he could feel was relief: relief that he would be protected by Motormaster and whatever mark he had put on Mirage. Also, now that Motormaster was here, Mirage would be able to transform and drive home with him.

Then, to Mirage's dismay, Motormaster activated the electro-disruptor and disappeared from view. "Get walkin'." The curt order came from where Motormaster had been standing.

"Yes, Master," defeat was evident in Mirage's voice. He could feel Motormaster shadowing him invisibly as he walked back out of the alley and onto the main walkway he had left.

As Mirage made his way along the street, no matter how much he tried to blend in and remain unnoticed, he could see other mechs he passed doing double-takes and staring at him. To the former spy, this was very unnerving. Mirage knew that he was scratched and dented, but he had been in public in much worse shape than this before, and had not provoked such a reaction.

Suddenly he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the smooth metal side of a building that had just been re-plated. Scrawled across his aft in bold glyphs was, "PROPERTY OF MOTORMASTER: TRESSPASSERS WILL BE SLAGGED!" As Mirage felt his spark heating in embarrassment, he could hear the distinctive sound of Motormaster's chuckle nearby.