Inherent Cost

by Alicia Cameron

  Jere has been in Hojer for just over two years. He has been drawn into a political role, promoting a bill that could change the way that slaves are treated. At the same time, he is dealing with his own struggles with the political system, the people of Hojer, and trying to do the best thing for his slaves. (M/M)

  Inherent Cost

  Alicia Cameron

  ForbiddenFiction

  www.forbiddenfiction.com

  an imprint of

  Fantastic Fiction Publishing

  www.fantasticfictionpublishing.com

  Copyright 2016 Alicia Cameron

  INHERENT COST

  A ForbiddenFiction book

  Fantastic Fiction Publishing Hayward, California

  © Alicia Cameron, 2016

  All rights reserved. No part of this work may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission from the publisher, except as allowed by fair use. For more information, contact publisher@forbiddenfiction.com.

  CREDITS

  Editor: Rylan Hunter and James L. Wolf

  Cover design: Siolnatine

  Cover art: Adapted by Siolnatine from photo by Pressmaster at Dreamstime

  Production Editor: Erika L Firanc

  Proofreading: JhP323

  SKU: AC2-000206-01 SW

  ISBN: 978-1-62234-295-2

  Published in the United States of America

  DISCLAIMER

  This book is a work of fiction which contains explicit erotic content; it is intended for mature readers. Do not read this if it’s not legal for you.

  All the characters, locations and events herein are fictional. While elements of existing locations or historical characters or events may be used fictitiously, any resemblance to actual people, places or events is coincidental.

  This book depicts fictional BDSM; it is not intended to be used as an instruction manual. It contains descriptions of erotic acts that may be immoral, illegal, or unsafe. The characters are not models for the Safe, Sane and Consensual forms embraced by most current practitioners of BDSM. The authors take license with the use of BDSM for dramatic effect. Do not take the events in this story as proof of the plausibility or safety of any particular practice.

  Contents

  Disclaimer

  1. Anniversary

  2. Retrieval

  3. Working Order

  4. Threats

  5. Danger

  6. News

  7. Planning

  8. Influences

  9. Explorations

  10. International Medicine

  11. Convincing

  12. Training Tools

  13. How a Slave Should Act

  14. Shutdown

  15. Pressure Testing

  16. A Strong Master

  17. Certification

  18. Results

  19. Something to Remember

  20. Separation

  21. Parents

  22. Repairs

  23. Networking

  24. Reconnecting

  25. Hot Passion

  26. Audit

  27. Evaluation

  28. Press Conference

  29. Summoned

  30. Reinstated

  31. Shaken Up

  32. Flames

  33. Attack

  34. Voting Day

  35. Costs

  36. Waste

  37. Benefits

  38. Decisions

  39. Marking

  Author’s Notes

  About the Author

  About the Series

  About the Publisher

  Chapter 1

  Anniversary

  “Where did you hear about this place?” Wren asked, settling happily into the speed train seat next to his lover. They had gotten a private car, hidden from prying eyes, allowing them to talk freely. “I couldn’t imagine anything of the sort ever existing in Hojer.”

  They were headed to a new restaurant a few towns away. A gimmick; it allowed masters and spoiled slaves to eat together, curled up on a comfortable chair for two, instead of strictly relegating slaves to the floor. While it wasn’t exactly the same as going out as equals, Wren knew it was likely the best way that he and his master would ever celebrate any anniversary.

  “Paltrek,” Jere admitted, smiling.

  “Of course, he’d know of a place like this,” Wren said, laughing. Jere’s friend Paltrek was always up-to-date about everything that occurred in the slave state, and didn’t mind the clear distinctions between free and slave. Like Wren, Paltrek had grown up in a slave state, accepting the way things were as a matter of course.

  Jere, on the other hand, had fought social conventions as hard as he could from the moment he arrived in Hojer just over two years ago. Taking the role as the town’s doctor, he had been confused and desperate for guidance. Fortunately, Wren had provided that, gently instructing his master on how to best fit into the strange culture of Arona—a slave state. In just a matter of months, their relationship progressed from a tense situation between slave and master, to a tentative companionship, then to a loving relationship that grew over time. Wren had always been there to help Jere figure out the intricacies of slavery, and Jere had been there to support Wren through anything he needed, whether it was the challenges of trying to have a real relationship, or the difficulties of overcoming the horrors he had experienced at the hands of his previous master and trainers.

  “He said it started as a pet-friendly restaurant, you know, actual animals, but I guess it got a little messy and the state health agency shut it down. They gutted it and started over with pets that wouldn’t have accidents.”

  Wren laughed, cuddling close to his master, although Jere was so much more than that. He was Wren’s other half: his boyfriend, his partner, whatever they wanted to call it. Wren knew that allowing slaves to dine with their masters was just an excuse for a new restaurant to make more money, but he appreciated the gesture. Jere longed to leave the state and free Wren, but it simply wasn’t allowed. The best Jere could do was treat him well at home, keep him out of the public eye, and spoil him as much as possible. Wren was happy to go along with those plans.

  “I’m excited to see what it’s like,” Wren decided. “Thank you for taking me.”

  “Of course,” Jere replied, smiling as he leaned over, pressing his lips against Wren’s.

  Wren didn’t hesitate to return the affection. He was glad that they had gotten a private car, because he wasted no time climbing on top of Jere, pinning him against the back of the seat and holding him down, kissing him roughly. Jere returned the favor by wrapping his legs around Wren, pulling him close. The rocking of the speed train only added to the excitement, moving them quickly enough that the landscape outside of the window blurred before their eyes. The speed trains had replaced most other major forms of transportation decades ago, running on a mix of mind gifts and solar energy. Both were far more sustainable after the resource crisis that occurred after The Fall. They weren’t always reliable, but they were the best way to get around.

  Wren wasn’t about to actually fuck his master on a speed train, but he had no problem turning him on and teasing him. Like most people, Wren had a special ability, a speed gift, which he used to work his hand down Jere’s pants quickly, grabbing his cock and jerking him as Jere gasped with excitement.

  “Want me to make you come right here?” he teased, pleased when Jere gasped and nodded.

  Smiling, Wren kept going, intent on his task until a sudden bump interrupted his pattern. Jere caught him before he fell to the floor, and Wren held on tightly.

  “What the hell was that?” The speed trains were usually smooth.

  “Probably just debris on the tracks,” Jere assured him. “It’s been storming again. Maybe a tree branch or
something.”

  Wren nodded, pleased when the ride became smooth again. He leaned forward, pressing against Jere and making use of his second gift. Firesetting could be used for far more than just igniting things; Wren had learned how to control it with enough accuracy to heat even the most delicate parts of his and his lover’s body. He warmed them both; the speed train wasn’t cold, but he knew Jere enjoyed the effects of his gift.

  For so many years, he’d had to hide his firesetting gift. Most people developed their gift around the time they reached puberty—and only one. Wren had developed a second one not long after, and he had been hiding it ever since. Nobody but Jere and Jere’s mother had any clue about it, and he liked it that way. It wasn’t safe for anyone else to know. It didn’t matter that he could use it to influence temperature in all sorts of directions. All anyone would see was a dangerous slave who also had a mental gift; a rare anomaly that would put him at risk of government seizure and experimentation. The fact that Jere not only appreciated it, but also encouraged it, made Wren love him even more.

  Jere responded to the gift with excitement. Some days, it seemed like even the slightest hint of heat had Jere asking for more, craving Wren’s touch, begging to be fucked. The gift that Wren had been so afraid of for so many years was turning out to be one of the best sex toys either of them had ever encountered. As Wren kept the heat consistent, he leaned forward to kiss Jere again, forcing his tongue between Jere’s lips roughly and quickly. Jere yielded to him, letting out a little moan of excitement. Within minutes, Jere was thrusting into Wren’s hand again, kissing him eagerly.

  Then the speed train let out a loud, metallic screech and everything went dark.

  Wren blinked, shaking his head and sending glass flying. He was disoriented for a moment, trying to understand how they were lying in the dirt, and why there were massive piles of metal everywhere, blocking the light that managed to shine through the cloud of smoke and dust.

  He reached out through the mind connection that he and Jere shared, feeling around until he felt the familiar psychic presence of the man he loved. Jere wasn’t responsive, but he was alive, and he was close. Wren looked around, seeing a familiar arm poking out from beneath what appeared to be the side panel of the speed train. Without a second thought, he tore the sheet of metal off of his lover, gasping in horror when he saw the deep gash across Jere’s head. Clearing away some more debris, Wren pulled him into his arms, making sure he was still breathing.

  “Jere,” he whispered, pulling him close. “Don’t leave me. I need you, baby. Please wake up.”

  Wren’s world was focused on Jere, but the screaming and shouting around him filtered in as a team of medics arrived, sent in on another speed train that ran on parallel tracks. Wren fastened Jere’s pants and checked him for any other injuries, anything that he could address with the limited medical skills he had picked up from assisting Jere over the past few years in the clinic. Jere was a healer, gifted with the ability to cure illnesses and repair injuries with a touch and a bit of psychic energy. Now, he lay there helpless, motionless, blood pouring from the cut. All Wren could do was apply pressure to the head wound and wait for more help. He tried not to notice it, but the warm blood that ran between his fingers forced him to wonder just how long Jere had before the worst happened.

  It seemed like it took forever, but someone finally came. Wren had rarely been happier to see strange free people.

  “Please, sir, my master needs help!” he called, the moment one of the medics came close enough to hear.

  The medic came over quickly, glanced at the head wound, and called for a team of slaves with a stretcher to come and collect Jere, taking him back to the train the medics had arrived on. Wren let him go reluctantly, following alongside the stretcher until a hand on his arm stopped him.

  “You’ll need to come with us,” another medic said. “No room in the train for slaves.”

  Wren wanted to fight, but he knew better. The medic obviously had a psychic gift; he had picked up on Wren’s lack of one in an instant. Wren was better dressed and far more privileged than the other slaves, but his physical gift stood out to those with the abilities to detect it. Trying to follow Jere would only delay his treatment; worse, it could get Wren into trouble. For a slave, “trouble” could mean anything from beating, to imprisonment, to re-training. In any case, it would mean more separation from Jere.

  Wren nodded, following compliantly. He felt tears forming as he watched Jere being carried away and placed into the speed train with the other injured free people. He would have done almost anything to go with him. For a moment, the thought of revealing his firesetting gift and pretending he was a free person crossed his mind. He crushed those thoughts back inside, afraid to even think such a thing. Revealing his second gift would mark him as different, dangerous. It would be even worse than being left alone. As the people just kept being piled onto the speed train, his hopes of joining them were crushed. As he watched, the train zoomed away from him and into the distance.

  The medic who caught Wren led him to where a variety of other slaves were gathered, most just scared and shaken up. Once the medic left, he glanced at another slave. “What’s going on?”

  “Speed train derailed,” he explained, shrugging. “Slave train was all right, but they won’t let us continue if our masters have been taken to one of the hospitals. Looks like you were in the passenger cars.”

  Wren was confused for a moment before taking notice of his own status. He was covered in blood, mostly Jere’s, but as he paid more attention, he realized that some of it was his own. He had a few scratches here and there, including a big cut stretching from just below his neck down and across his chest. As he became aware of his own injuries, he realized that he was sore and aching now that the adrenaline was dying down. He pressed his hand against his chest and yelped in pain, startled by how much it hurt. The same pieces of speed train that knocked Jere unconscious must have landed on him as well. From the sharp pain, Wren guessed that he had at least a few cracked ribs.

  “Where are they taking us?” he asked his fellow slave.

  He shrugged again. “You should see a vet,” he advised. “I think the rest of us are being boarded at the vet clinic, anyway.”

  Wren felt a cold chill pass through him at the idea of being treated in an animal clinic. Human healers and animal healers had entirely different gifts and training; only the desire to separate free from slave brought humans to a veterinary clinic. Again, Wren knew better than to protest. He hid his disgust and his fear, nodding. Jere would come for him just as soon as he was healed.

  They waited for what seemed like hours as speed trains arrived, the smaller, faster ones that were reserved for emergencies. The free people who weren’t injured were the next to go, and then the injured slaves. Wren was among this third group, herded into the small train car next to a few other slaves who had suffered injuries on the ride.

  The ride wasn’t long; all too soon, Wren was being led into a veterinary clinic. He tensed as he heard screaming from inside, mixing with the howls of dogs and screeches of cats as well as other noises he couldn’t and didn’t want to identify. The entryway was crowded and fairly clean, giving Wren hope that his experience would at least be tolerable. As a vet tech guided him into a back room, he tried not to gag at the smell that threatened to overwhelm him. The stench of animals, waste, and disinfectant blended together, but the smell of waste far overpowered everything else. The clinic was obviously overcrowded with the victims of the speed train crash.

  The vet glanced at him in the hallway, not even bothering with an exam room for her initial assessment. She flicked a flashlight at his eyes and reached out her hand toward him, likely attempting to do a wellness check, or whatever passed for a wellness check from an animal healer.

  Wren pulled back, ducking her hand. A healer’s touch could bring pain as quickly as healing, and one who was trained on animals was likely to do more harm than good. Worse, a psychic healing con
nection could reveal his firesetting gift. “Please, ma’am, my master won’t want someone else treating me.”

  The vet glared at him and Wren tensed as the tech’s hand tightened on his arm. Wren felt the panic rising through his body and he forced himself to tamp down his firesetting gift, keeping his temperature from rising out of control.

  “I mean no disrespect, ma’am,” Wren said, hoping to appease her. “My master is a healer and he’s very possessive. He’ll be furious if anyone else tries to heal me. He will not authorize this treatment and he certainly won’t pay for it.”

  The vet scowled. “I still need to make sure it’s stabilized,” she said, glancing past Wren.

  Wren flinched as he felt another set of hands grabbing him. Two techs held him tight and he knew that he couldn’t resist them.

  Without wasting any more time, the vet reached out, grabbing Wren by the back of the neck. The second he felt her hand, he felt a shock of pain. The psychic healing connection that Jere could initiate so smoothly and painlessly was being forced by this vet, and Wren felt like knives were being stabbed into his brain. It had been like this ever since Wren first got his speed gift; at least, until he met Jere. He had almost forgotten the agony that a subpar healer could cause.

  “Quit fighting it!” the vet snapped, giving Wren a shake.

  He couldn’t help fighting it. His firesetting gift was too dangerous, too close to the surface. For years, he had hid it. He had hid it from his trainers at the training facility, and he’d hid it from his previous master, crushing it inside of himself even when he was burned and the gift could have protected him. He felt the vet forcing her way inside of his mind and psychic energy and he fought to make his speed gift more prominent, to shut down, to do anything to evade her. Still, she made her way in, filling Wren with the sickening sense of someone else’s psychic presence. Wren blurred his thoughts, blurred his emotions, and tried to keep her as far away as possible, no matter the pain it caused him.