Break the Chains

by Reis Asher

  "I thought slavery was the greatest thing at first. I loved being the center of attention. I had access to so many drugs—all I could handle and more. I was drowned in people who wanted me. I never thought that in the midst of all that attention I could become lonely. Then I got used up, and they'd all seen me, and I was like a starlet past her years when the next toy came along. That's when the abuse started. That's when each successive Master seemed crueler than the next. That's when the kinks came out in earnest. He traced a scar on his chest. This one guy liked to use an electric drill—" Avery was cut off by Conrad's lips on his, silencing him with a kiss.

  Conrad pulled back. "I had to shut you up, or I swear to God I'll dig out my shotgun and hunt those fucks until every last one of them is dead."

  Avery looked into Conrad's surprisingly sober eyes. His lips tingled where Conrad's had brushed his. He longed for more, yearned to melt into Conrad where he felt safe and normal—sensations he thought he'd never experience again. Something about the ferocity of Conrad's protectiveness made him believe that Conrad could fight off anyone or anything who wanted to hurt him.

  But it wasn't true. Conrad was only a man—a flawed man, at that. A corrupt ex-cop and a fee-paying member of the Circle. A man deeply in debt who couldn't possibly afford Avery's treatment, no matter how good his intentions were.

  He couldn't afford the weakness of allowing himself to believe he was safe in a world where evil people always got their way.

  Avery heard a snore and realized Conrad had fallen asleep. He huddled into Conrad's warmth and closed his eyes, and before long, he found himself tumbling into the blissful oblivion of sleep.

  Conrad

  Conrad woke to pounding temples and instant regret. Avery still lay on top of him; Conrad carefully moved him to lie down on the couch, draping a blanket over him. His face looked peaceful in rest, and Conrad let out a long sigh. He'd heard a lot of things—said a lot of things—that were too heavy to contemplate in his hungover state. A queasiness washed over him, and he didn't know if it was the alcohol or the horrible abuses he'd heard Avery talk about.

  He staggered to the kitchen, where he poured a glass of water and took three prescription painkillers. Well, prescription was a stretch—they were supposed to have been prescribed, but he ordered pretty much anything he wanted from a Dark Web dealer in Mexico. He'd sworn off heroin after Abby's death, but he still did the occasional line of cocaine and of course, the prescription opioids had their uses. It was all cheap, illegal, and largely ignored.

  His epiphany struck him so hard that the pounding in his head struck with a vengeance. Dizzy, he maneuvered himself to a chair and slumped down into it.

  Of course. Mexico. I can get Avery's drugs from Mexico. A smile broke out on his face despite the pain. He could barely wait for the agony to recede before he pulled out his laptop, using a proxy to access the dark web and an online medical encyclopedia to tell him what Avery needed. It came out surprisingly cheap, all things considered, and Conrad couldn't help but feel it was the best money he'd ever spent. If the cops came knocking, he was going to need a hefty bribe to beat them back, but he'd cross that bridge if he ever came to it.

  He looked up to see Avery standing in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen. Even wretchedly hungover he was a sight to behold, his tousled hair and bright blue eyes giving him a delightful "just-fucked" look. Even the steel collar around his neck couldn't ruin the image.

  "Come and sit with me." Conrad beckoned him over, and Avery slumped into a chair. Close up, he could see how painfully skinny Avery was, and made mental plans to fix that. Conrad was going to have to take better care of him; the haphazard junk food meals and heavy drinking sessions weren't good for either of them.

  Well, maybe the junk food at least. The alcohol was helping Avery open up, and Conrad struggled to convince himself that was a bad thing. Even if his past was hard to hear, it at least gave him some understanding of the fragile ground Avery walked upon and the burdens he had to carry.

  Looking at Avery as he sat beside him, he was sickened that he'd bought Avery with his own pleasure in mind. To think he could have been like every other Master Avery had endured, taking what he wanted and disposing of him afterwards.

  Nobody was going to use Avery again. He might have started out on the wrong foot, but Conrad was determined to do right by him now. Starting with his medication. "Your medication is on its way."

  Avery's expression brightened, despite the obvious pain he was in. "How can you afford it?"

  Conrad hesitated. He knew asking Avery not to worry about it would only worry him more, so he decided that honesty was probably the best policy. "I used an online pharmacy in Mexico."

  "Isn't that illegal without a prescription?"

  Conrad laughed. "I bought a slave and you're worrying whether the drugs I'm importing are legal? Trust me, the cops have bigger fish to fry, and they can always be paid off if they cause problems. This place is legit—I've used them for some recreational drugs before."

  "Heh. Never pegged you for the partying type. You seem more like the 'drink and wallow alone' sort."

  "You did some wallowing yourself last night, if I recall."

  "You remember." Avery lowered his head. "I was hoping you were too drunk to remember. I said too much. I'm sorry."

  "I was glad you opened up. You can't bear the things you've experienced alone, Avery." Conrad reached over and ran a finger across Avery's bare chest, tracing a scar. "You shouldn't have to carry that weight."

  "I put pen to paper. I signed up to become a slave."

  "You say that like you could consent to what happened to you. If you'd known the things you'd be forced to endure, would you still have signed your name?"

  "No. Never."

  "That's the thing about consent—the part where the Circle's flimsy argument falls apart. It can be withdrawn at any time. You stopped consenting a long time ago. Everything that's happened since then is rape and abuse, no matter how they want to wave the contract in your face and say that you signed up."

  "I've wanted out for so long that I didn't even consider that…" Avery collapsed into a fit of sobs.

  Conrad pulled him close, rubbing his back. "It's over now. Nobody will hurt you again. You can stay here. You can get well and rest easy. I'm not going to sell or trade you. I'll leave you to Christina in my will. Whatever it takes to keep you out of the hands of another cruel Master."

  "I don't deserve your kindness, Conrad. You should have thrown me out when you discovered I was HIV positive. I have nothing to offer you. Any other Master would have taken the euthanasia offer and I'd be ashes by now."

  "I'm not any other Master. I'm not like them. I may be a flawed person, but I won't commit murder because it suits me."

  "Christina's going to be angry," Avery pointed out.

  Conrad nodded. "That she will, but she'll have to live with it. I've made my decision, and it's final—unless you have any objections, that is. If you'd rather live with another Master, just say the word and I'll make it happen." Despite the fact he was fairly certain Avery would turn him down flat, he still felt unease at the thought of Avery leaving him. In just a few short days, Avery had become an essential part of his life. Perhaps he liked broken things. Hadn't Abby always been like that too? Lost in her addiction even when they'd met, her the prostitute and him the client. Desperate for his help, and he'd found himself falling for her. Proposing marriage. Promising he'd keep the dealers, pimps, and cops at bay. Not that things had ended well, despite his attempts to save her over the twenty years they'd been married. She'd spent six different stints in rehab, all ending in relapse. She'd never been able to shake the habit that killed her. But he'd still loved her. Loved being there for her when nobody else could. Loved the way it sounded when she called his name, even at the end, when he was exhausted and needed someone to be there for him.

  There had been relief when Abby was gone, but she had left a hole in Conrad's heart nobody else
had been able to fill. She'd needed him, in a world that had cast him aside as just another good guy gone bad. Even Christina had never relied on him—growing up with a corrupt cop dad and a drug-dependent mother had aged her fast, and she'd flown the nest without so much as asking for a cheap car.

  And now Avery needed him. Depended on him in the face of certain death. Despite telling Avery he was no white knight, Conrad wanted to be. But he was too fucked up himself to hold something so fragile as a life in his hands. Alcohol and drugs fueled his pathetic existence, and sex numbed his loneliness and pain. How could he possibly save Avery when he couldn't even save himself?

  "I want to stay," Avery said. His eyes shone with a kind of admiration that made Conrad glow inside, even as a crushing guilt descended. He hadn't made Avery suffer, hadn't asked him to depend on him, but he was still a Master. Their relationship could never be equal. Avery would always rely on him by design. It made Conrad feel like the scum of the Earth, like every Master who had exploited Avery before he'd landed in Conrad's lap.

  Would—could—he ever become a man worthy of Avery's trust?

  Avery

  The drugs arrived from Mexico without fanfare, and Avery started his regimen post-haste. The schedule was grueling, but when the alternative was death, taking medication several times a day seemed like nothing. He wondered if Conrad felt left out when he set up a line of coke on the coffee table. Avery shook his head, but his expression was one of mirth. He certainly wasn't going to apply for sainthood this late in his life, and he regretted that he didn't dare partake due to potential drug interactions.

  Maybe that was a good idea, he realized later on, as Conrad was horny as hell when high. He bit his lip as Conrad unzipped his fly, pulling out his cock to rest on his leg. Sudden fear shot through him as he wondered what Conrad might do under the influence. He'd seen men at parties become different animals under the influence of cocaine, soft-spoken businessmen becoming violent rapists without inhibitions to rein in their darker impulses.

  Avery had learned to expect the unexpected with Conrad, however, and this time was no different. Conrad fished out an old video tape and put it into an even older VCR player, turning the television to the correct channel. A grainy porno came on screen, depicting a bus full of naked men. It took Avery a moment to recognize one of the men as young Conrad, barely eighteen. Young Conrad bent over and one by one, took the cock of each guy on the bus. Avery watched, captivated, his own cock growing hard as his eyes skirted to Conrad on the couch, furiously jerking himself off. He licked his lips, watching the guys on screen plowing Conrad.

  How he wanted to be one of those guys.

  The thought came and went, leaving bitterness in its wake. That could never happen. The sexual tension between them had cooled somewhat since Avery's diagnosis, and while they'd not talked about it, Avery could tell his HIV was a deal-breaker for Conrad. Now they were more prone to cuddling and soul-sharing than sex talk, and Avery felt the absence of the edge he'd experienced when they'd first met. He wanted Conrad from that first night back, the man who could barely hold himself back. The man who liked things to be dangerous.

  The man in the porno was definitely that guy, and Avery found himself incredibly aroused. He tiptoed to the couch and sat down beside Conrad.

  Perhaps it was time to dispense with the no-touching rule, especially if he made the first move. He reached over and unclasped Conrad's hand from his cock, replacing it with his own and pumping slowly.

  "Ave—" Conrad protested.

  "Shh. Let me do this. I want this," Avery assured him. Conrad threw his head back, thrusting into Avery's hand. "I wish I could be one of those guys, Conrad."

  "Mmm. God, I wish you could be too. You have a magnificent cock. I'd love to feel it inside me."

  Avery kept his darker thoughts to himself, but a sorrow fell over him as he realized he'd never be able to fuck Conrad bareback. That was a bridge they'd hopefully never be stupid enough to cross, no matter how much they chased life on the edge.

  Like they were chasing it now: Avery living on borrowed time, and Conrad one snort away from a heart attack.

  Conrad came with a shout, his sticky seed coating Avery's hand. He lay back on the couch and rode out the rest of his high. Avery cleaned up the evidence, guilt washing over him. They'd had an agreement. No touching. No sexual contact because Conrad would never be able to handle the guilt.

  He paced the room and waited for Conrad to float back down to Earth. He tried out several explanations in his mind, but none sounded right. Conrad deserved the truth after all he'd done for Avery.

  "Avery…"

  "I'm sorry." Avery bowed his head. "I shouldn't have done it. I broke our agreement. I was scared—scared you no longer found me attractive after my diagnosis. I missed what we had. I missed our edge."

  "How long have you been torturing yourself with that?" Conrad asked. "It was the best hand-job I ever had. God, Avery, if that's what your hand is like, I can only imagine what you could do with your mouth."

  Avery's eyes widened. "You're not going to beat yourself up? Tell yourself that somehow you raped me, even though you were high as a kite and I was the one who took advantage of you?"

  "Maybe that's why I can handle it," Conrad confessed. "I still don't understand why you'd legitimately want to fuck a man like me, but I'm beginning to believe you really do want me and aren't doing it out of some sense of self-preservation. Or maybe I'm just too far down this rabbit hole to really know right from wrong anymore. I never was good at being good." He laughed. "Like my little home video? Needed some college cash. Talk about getting paid for doing what you love. Almost bit me in the ass when I entered the police academy, though. If it hadn't been for my exceptional grades, I would have been out on my ear."

  Avery grinned. "You loved being fucked by all those guys."

  "Told you I was no saint, Ave. I think we're peas in a pod, you and I. We're both looking for something to remind us we're still alive. I'm sorry I gave you the impression that I didn't want you. After your confession, your diagnosis, and everything else that's happened, it felt wrong to even consider wanting you. I thought that you might come to me eventually. And you did. I'm glad."

  "So am I," Avery said.

  "I need to get tested," Conrad said. "My wife…she was a prostitute and an intravenous drug user. Not to mention all the other risky encounters I've had over the years. If we're going to pursue this…attraction, the last thing I want is to make you sicker than you already are."

  Avery sat on the couch, a million thoughts swirling through his mind. His heart leapt to think of a sexual relationship with Conrad, even though he knew they would always have their limits. Not to mention the guilt. He'd told himself this was one thing they could never have, and yet here they were anyway, crossing the line again. Breaking their own rules.

  But then rules were made to be broken.

  Conrad

  The downer always hit hard after the coke wore off, and this time was no exception. Avery was asleep by the time Conrad's melancholy mood began, and he wandered the house like a ghost during the midnight hours.

  Avery's hand on his cock had been incredible, but they were flirting with disaster. Conrad wanted him, risks and collars and everything else be damned. Avery was better than cocaine, better than anything. Too good for him.

  It couldn't last.

  Conrad opened the locked drawer where the envelope lay. The Circle logo was neatly printed on the outside, as though it was a legitimate business and not a front for the slave trade. Conrad pulled out the crisp paper and unfolded it, drawing in a tense breath as he saw the amount of zeroes. He'd already talked with the bank and remortgaged the house. That would pay his six month dues. After that—after that he had nothing else left to give. His home business as a private investigator paid out in fits and spurts, allowing him periods of indulgence between the stretches of poverty, but even if he somehow became a careful spender, no ordinary wage could cover the Circle's dues. B
lue collar men weren't supposed to become slave owners, and the dues were a way to keep the riff-raff out. A few thousand was nothing to millionaires, but everything to him.

  Being repossessed would kill Avery. There was no way around it, no way Conrad could sugar-coat the truth. The only out he had was the phone number in his pocket, but as Avery had said, no Master was going to pay for his treatment. Conrad planned to ask anyway, when the time came. He'd get down on his knees and beg. It wouldn't be enough. Even if the Master agreed to fund his medication, even if the Master was kind, Avery would lose his name again. Lose the illusion of equality Conrad had granted him, lose that safety he cherished so much. His body might stay alive, but his soul would be crushed.

  He folded the bill back up and locked it in the drawer. He'd bought six months of time. Six months to hold and cherish Avery. He hated himself for knowing that the kinder he was, the more he fell for Avery, the worse it would all be in the end, but he couldn't help his feelings no more than he could help breathing. Something about Avery set pathways in his mind on fire that had lain dormant for a long time.

  "Can't sleep?" Avery's voice made him jump, and he felt like he'd been caught with his hands in the cookie jar. Avery could never know about the dues. He'd only worry. Six months was a million light years away in a world as dangerous as the one they traversed every day.

  "Coke has its downsides," Conrad admitted. "I was just thinking too much again. It's a bad habit of mine, especially lately."

  "It's not like I'm any different," Avery said. "Living here with you has changed everything for me. Before it was a struggle just to get through each day. I had to focus on surviving through the next few hours. Now I see days ahead of me, weeks even, and suddenly I have all this time to think. Now that I've stopped running, the hideous things I've done are catching up with me." He stood beside Conrad at the window and they watched the moon emerge from behind a cloud.