Bound: Contemporary M/M Romance (Auctioned Book 2)

by Rana Drake

A door was open at the end of the hall and I was led inside.

  "Thank you, Garret. That will be all."

  I lifted my eyes to see my master sitting comfortably in a chair in the corner, puffing on a cigar. His voice was so smooth and deep and calm. I swallowed, my face cast downward, but my eyes stealing glances at him every chance I got, without outright staring.

  "It's ok, Collin, you may look at me," He said, as the door clicked closed. "Let me see your eyes."

  I lifted my chin and met his gaze. His eyes were dark, and small, but his gaze was searing a hole through me. "Welcome to the playroom, Collin. Although, it's mostly a playroom for me. For you, it's more of a workroom. When I summon you here, I expect your complete and total surrender. I know that you have never been properly trained, and I intend to do just that. I heard you were with that monster Marlon, and I will have you know that I am nothing like him."

  I breathed a quiet sigh of relief, that I assumed was imperceptible, but my master picked up on it anyway. "Marlon isn't a proper master, he doesn’t know what he wants, other than to exert his brute force over others. I, on the other hand, have very specific tastes that I am confident you will pick up on very quickly. At least, you will if you know what's good for you." He laughed, and I suddenly felt a growing wave of repulsion rising in me at the sound of it.

  He continued, "As you can see, I have everything here that someone like me could use to help someone like you bring me pleasure. And, of course, I hope that your pleasure will be heightened by bringing me mine, although, that isn't of much concern to me. I own you, so my only job is to keep you in good enough condition for me to keep having fun. How do you like your quarters, by the way?"

  "Very good, Master," I mumbled. "Thank you, Master."

  He nodded. "Then, I take it you are well rested and ready to please me. In that case, remove all of your clothing right now, then turn around and go stand against the wall behind you, with your hands over your head. I will be over there to chain you up in just a moment. Don't let your hands down until you are fastened securely for your first spanking."

  My mouth went dry, but I did as I was told. I began to undress, not even hesitating in the slightest anymore, even though it sickened me to do so. I hated this man already. His aloof air was a complete turnoff, and he wasn't all that handsome either. He was rather skinny, for a Master, and I found myself thinking how much better Jake looked than he did as I removed my clothing.

  He watched me intently as I stripped before him, and I caught sight of movement in his pants as his cock became hard at the sight of my nudity. I went to the wall where he indicated, and held my hands above my head. I could feel the energetic burn from his eyes staring at my ass as I stood there with my hands above my head.

  My arms began to burn and shake before he finally came up behind me. I could feel the heat of his body standing directly behind me, and the metal of his belt as he leaned against me. "Don't let those arms drop until I get you fastened," he growled in my ear.

  My biceps were so sore, searing with pain and heat, but I didn't budge. He fingered my ass curiously as my arms ached, taking his time doing everything that he wanted to me. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally grabbed my wrists and fastened them to cuffs that dangled from the ceiling. I finally let my arms go limp into the cuffs, staring at the wall in front of me.

  "This is going to hurt, quite a bit," Master said to me, rubbing circles on my ass. "Since you're new, I'm going to let you know what is happening before I begin. I will be striking you repeatedly, and you will most likely be sobbing very quickly. I doubt you will be able to handle to pain that I am about to inflict on you for very long, and that is to be expected. Simply give in to your impulses as you see fit, Collin, and you will make me very happy."

  He struck my ass hard, with the flat of his hand. I gasped at the sting. He didn't look like he had the power that he did, but his strike reverberated down to my thighs.

  "Seeing you suffer like this will make me very happy," Master said, admiring the dark red hand print that he had left on my ass cheek. I could see it through the mirror that reflected his sadistic actions.

  He struck me again and again with his powerful hand, spreading the sting onto each of my pale cheeks. I closed my eyes as he struck me, counting out loud. Once he got to twenty, he stopped, and I breathed a sigh of relief as he walked away.

  My relief was short lived when I saw what he had in his hand upon his return - a leather crop. He tapped it against the floor, then, without warning, struck me with it.

  "Spread your legs," he ordered me, kicking my feet apart. He continued his assault, letting the tip of the crop kiss my testicles just enough to make me wince.

  "Cry for me," he screamed, once he had reached over fifty strokes. "I want to hear you wail like the bitch that you are."

  There was a wild, ugly look on his face and I hated it. I didn't want to give him what he wanted. He was torturing me simply for the sake of it. He wasn't even getting off, he wasn't creating any pleasure in anyone. He was merely showing his power, and it disgusted me. I wouldn't cry. I wanted to, but something in me wouldn't allow it. I didn't want to see him with satisfaction etched across his wretched, evil face.

  The whipping continued, as he began screaming at me to cry.

  I held my face like a stone, devoid of all emotion as I stared at a spot on the ceiling.

  When he reached one hundred strokes, he angrily tossed the whip aside. "I bet I know how I can get you to cry."

  He turned to rummage in a chest of drawers on the other side of the room, then re-approached me with a device in his hands that I didn't recognize. He deftly reached between my legs and clamped the thing over my testicles, then began turning and twisting it until the thing was squeezing me to the point that my eyes nearly bugged out of my head.

  I groaned, but did not shed a tear as he watched my face, his inches from mine.

  "I'll tear your balls off if I feel like it," he threatened me.

  When I said nothing, he released me from the horrible device. "You aren't giving me the fun that I paid for," he said. "If you don't give me what I want, I will be forced to return you as damaged goods. You don't want that, do you? I thought you liked staying here with me, in your nice room."

  He shoved a finger in my ass, sans lube, and I squealed. "I'll just let you dangle here and think about that for a little while, and maybe we can try this again later. A dry-eyed slave does not please me."

  He left, letting the door slam behind him, and I let a single tear finally fall. I hoped with everything I had that he would just return me. Something about him I despised, even more than the last sadistic fuck that bought me.

  As I tried to lean against the wall to take some pressure off my arms, thoughts of Jake filled my mind. I wanted him to save me. I wanted to be his.

  16

  Jake

  It's been two weeks since Collin was sold to that fuckhead Michael and I haven't been able to forget it. Every day, dragging myself to work has gotten even harder than it was before, and I know it's because I don't have Collin to look forward to. I very likely won't ever see him again, now that Michael has him.

  I've even thought about stealing him back, but as soon as I started thinking that, I realized I needed to get my damn head checked. If I did something like that, Hunter would fucking roast me, quite literally, probably. My days here at the club would be over for sure, and in a way that would be a blessing - but my days on this planet would likely be over as well if I got caught. I wasn't invincible. When it came down to it, none of us were. Not even Hunter himself. The only reason this club worked was because we adhered to a certain code and we stuck to it consistently. And that code did not include catching feelings for slaves and then kidnapping them back from their rightful owners. That would be bad for business, to say the least.

  If I had any luck left, I would see Michael tonight at the casino. The place was another of Hunter's business ventures, and he was having a grand opening part
y tonight, by invite only. Everyone associated with the club would be there, and I knew Michael likely wouldn't pass up a networking event like this one- unless he was having too much fun with Collin at home to leave his house.

  That thought alone turned my mood sour. The only reason I wanted to see the ugly fucker was to drill him for information about Collin, which would be easy to do under the guise of a concerned salesman. For all he knew, I simply wanted to make sure that he was happy with his purchase. I really didn't know why I insisted on torturing myself with more information, but I knew I wouldn't be able to help myself.

  I needed to just forget about him, but it wasn't happening. I knew that whatever Michael Simmons had to say about his new pet, I would be angered or upset by it. If he was having fun with him, I'd be pissed. If he had sold him off already, I'd be pissed. Anything he could possibly tell me was going to make all these obsessive thoughts ten times worse so I don't know why I had to fucking bother, but I did. I had to know what was happening to Collin. It was an obsession. If Simmons didn't show up tonight, I would have to go to his fucking house myself. I needed some information. Maybe he would even tell me something that would put my mind at ease, although I don't know what could possibly do that at this point. The man had what I thought should be mine, and I didn't like it one goddamned bit.

  When evening came, and I found myself surrounded by the seediest businessmen in the region at Hunter's glitzy new casino, I was in an even worse mood. When I found Simmons sitting in a corner booth sipping scotch with two other men, I stormed over to them and glared at the other assholes until they got the hint and left. Alone in the booth with Simmons, I wanted nothing more than to slit his throat. Instead, I settled in and poured myself a drink from the open bottle on the table.

  "How is life treating you, Simmons?"

  "It's always surprising me," he replied, swirling the liquid in his glass.

  "And your new purchase? Are you pleased?"

  He took another drink, then shook his head. "Not exactly, if I'm going to be honest with you."

  Now my interest was piqued. "Oh? Why is that?" He had to have known that I didn't give a shit whether he was pleased or not, but he kept talking.

  "Well, he's everything I could want in a slave, physically. He has that mousy look to him that makes me just want to see him on his knees at all hours of the day. And, believe me, I keep him there plenty, but…" Simmons leaned forward and dropped his voice, even though it was completely unnecessary. "Just between you and me, and I think you already know this about me since we've done business so much in the past, but I have certain preferences, and I really thought he was going to be able to satisfy them, but he just isn't."

  "I can't imagine that a kid like that isn't tickling whatever kinky fucking fancy you have. What more can you want Simmons?"

  He laughed. "Oh, you don't have to point out to me that I am hard to please. I know it. It's just that I am a sadist, you know. This is the only place where I can openly admit such a thing, and it feels damn good. I like inflicting pain, and I like seeing the effects of the pain I cause. The little shit won't shed a tear no matter what I do to him, and it's starting to really disappoint me."

  He leaned back, an actual pouty look on his face. I wanted to kill him. With my bare hands- fuck stabbing him like I had dreamed of a few minutes ago. This man was despicable.

  He didn't stop talking. "I mean, I guess I shouldn't complain. Don't take it personally or anything, Jake. I don't blame you, you've always sold me great merch. It can't be anything you've done. I'm just going to have to try harder, and remember that if it takes this long to break him, it'll be that much sweeter when those tears finally come." He shook his head slightly, a small smile on his lips as he tapped his fingers against his glass. "I think I'll try some knife play tonight, that should do the trick. I'll make sure to get a good video to share with you for when the magic happens."

  I got up and left him without a word before I lost my temper. Heading to the bar, I kept my head down so no more assholes would dare to start a conversation with me. I needed a drink or ten, anything to make me forget what he just told me.

  Sitting at the bar, I ordered a line of five shots, and downed them one after the other, slamming the last one on the counter.

  "Slow down there, Jakey. I thought you were going to bring some of those shots back to share."

  The sound of Michael Simmons's voice behind me made my blood boil. The warm alcohol had begun to surge through my veins, and I didn't think twice before standing up and swinging my fist with full force until it made contact with the mouth that had dared to speak to me.

  Simmons fell backward, and someone caught him before he hit the ground, but he was stunned. I felt a hand on my shoulder, pulling me backward until I was in a seated position on the bench. It was Hunter, and he looked concerned.

  "Get him out of here," I heard Hunter say, referring to Simmons. Of course, he assumed I had a damn good reason to hit him but he didn't want a full on brawl breaking out at his grand opening party, either.

  He ordered me a drink from the bartender, not aware that I had already had plenty. "Calm yourself down, if anybody else acts up, try not to do that. Just get me and I'll have hem removed quietly. I don't want any scenes in here, got it?"

  I raised my eyebrows over my glass, letting him know I heard him, as I downed the rest of the drink. What a shit night.

  I pushed the empty glass away and kept my back turned to the crowd. Sure it was nice landing a punch on that asshole's jaw, but I knew it wasn't going to change anything.

  He still had Collin, and he was still going to hurt him, and he was still going to do who knows what else to him, and it was all my fucking fault. Collin didn't deserve to be treated like garbage. He deserved someone who was going to appreciate what they had, not someone who wanted him to suffer just for the hell of it.

  My thoughts were becoming fuzzy and my vision was blurry, but I still hadn't managed to get Collin out of my head. After all the salves I had sold off, many of them likely dead by now, why the fuck did I have to be so obsessed with this one?

  The one that I couldn't have. The one that, if Simmons went too far, likely wouldn't even be alive for much longer?

  I suddenly hated myself for all of it- for letting Simmons buy him, for having these feelings for him, and for not just killing Simmons and putting an end to it all tonight.

  17

  Collin

  I'd been sitting in the room for the past two days, healing from the wounds that Master had inflicted on me during our last session. In this time, I had grown to hate him even more, and I dreaded having him come in and demand to play with me again. The man was a sociopath. He had no remorse, just like Marlon didn't either. Was anyone that had been involved in this horrible business sane?

  Probably not. Or else why would they be buying and selling human beings? I started to hate myself as well. Maybe if I hadn't been so turned on by the violent porn that I used to watch late at night when I had my home all to myself…maybe then I wouldn't be in this situation. Maybe I brought this all on myself. They always say that like attracts like. Apparently, the universe can't tell the difference between fantasy and reality. It was all too horrible to think about.

  My train of thought was broken when I heard Master's voice. I only called him that to myself because I didn't know his name. He wasn't my Master, though, and he never would be. I felt a small flash of hope and pride in myself when I remembered how I had refused to give him what he wanted the other night. Yes, I had paid dearly for it, but it was the only victory I had and I was going to hold on to it.

  He could kill me and I wouldn't give him what he wanted. Not now, not ever.

  My door burst open and he came charging into my room, grabbing me by the back of the neck from where I sat on the couch and dragging me out. I could smell whiskey on his breath, and I noticed immediately that he had a busted lip. It looked like he had been in some kind of bar fight, and he had come out on the low end of
it. I got a flash of satisfaction from that, although I knew it was going to mean trouble for me. The coward was clearly intent on taking out his frustrations on someone smaller than him, someone that was tied up and couldn't defend themselves.

  I tripped and fell as I tried to keep up with him, and he pulled me to my feet by my hair.

  "Get up, you little shit. We're going to the playroom and we're going to have a lot of fun tonight. Do you like shiny objects? I have one that I think you're really going to like." He let out a sinister laugh as he pushed open the door to his dungeon and shoved me inside. When the door slammed behind him, he pushed me onto the bed, pinning me down with a knee on my chest and fastening each of my arms and legs to the bedposts. I was still clothed, but he quickly took care of that. I watched as he searched frantically through a drawer across the room and pulled out a few items that I couldn't see. I didn't need to see them to know that they were meant to cause me pain in some way.

  He showed me a blindfold, which he slipped over my head, snuffing out my sight. I then felt him pulling on my clothes, and the soft sound of fabric tearing as he cut the tunic that I was wearing off of me. A cold draft hit by body as the fabric fell away, and goosebumps covered my skin where the thin shirt had covered.

  I shivered, waiting for the suffering that I knew was just around the corner. I didn't care what he decided to do to me, I wouldn't cry, no matter what.

  Cold metal touched the soft skin of my belly.

  "Do you know what I have in my hand?" He asked, slowly rubbing the flat, cold metal across my skin. I knew immediately that it was a blade. He was threatening to cut me. I didn't make a sound.

  "I don't know who you think you are, but whoever you used to be is dead. You are nothing but a worthless slave now." He pressed the blade further against my skin. I could feel the cold, sharp metal threatening to rip through my skin. If he moved just a bit, my skin would slice around it. I held my breath, afraid to breathe. I couldn't see how big the blade was, but I could feel it, and I knew it was fully capable of gutting me.