by T. J. Hamel
With a final peek at Carter on his bed, Nathan locks himself in the bathroom, runs the sink, and makes the phone call he’s been dreading all night.
As always, there are 3 rings, then a clipped voice. “Name?”
“Eagle 2.”
“Code?”
“7134.”
“Hold.”
Nathan peeks out at Carter again, paranoid the boy will wake up. Then he paces the bathroom as he waits to be connected. Just as he’s sort of hoping Maison got called away on a mission, his best friend’s voice fills his ear. “Travis?”
“The one and only,” Nathan answers with a hopefully convincing confidence.
“How is he?”
Nathan glances at the bathroom door. “He’s asleep right now.”
There’s a pause. Then, “Don’t make me drag this shit out of you, man. Come on. All Benny said in his text was that you got him. I need more than that.”
Knowing that’s fair, Nathan sinks down to sit on the closed toilet lid and fills Maison in. “The only real competition was Miller, but I shut his ass down. Fucking Quinton decided to make a damn show of it, though.”
“How so?”
“He-” Nathan runs his hand through his hair, tugging until it hurts. “I had to use him. On stage. It was a deal I made with Quinton to keep him from letting the audience come up and play with him before the sales began.”
When Maison says nothing, Nathan forces himself to continue. “We left right after. I checked him over, went over some rules with him, fed him, then he passed out. He hasn’t woken up yet, but I think he’s just damn tired. Benny doubts it’s anything serious.”
“How bad is it?”
“All things considered? Not bad.” Nathan rubs his forehead, eyes closed as he tries to picture the naked boy again. “Standard sleep deprivation, starvation, dehydration. I think he was blindfolded for quite a while. His eyes had a hard time in dim lighting when it was removed. There was a surprisingly small amount of bruising, though. And nothing’s dislocated or broken. Far as I could tell, he was sexually untouched until – well, until me.”
Maison grunts. “He must not have been much of a fighter. That’s good. That’s – that’s good. Is he, uh – could you tell…”
“Just ask it, bud.”
“Could you tell if he’s, ya know… broken?”
This makes Nathan smile, just a little. “God no. Kid’s a little fighter, even if it’s just in his head. Already got some attitude from him. Don’t worry.”
“Thank god.” Maison laughs breathlessly. “He’s a spitfire, Nate. You’re gonna like him.”
Nathan isn’t sure if that’s a good thing. Spitfires earn punishments. Nathan doesn’t want to punish Carter. Not in the least.
Thankfully, Maison changes the subject. “What rules did you end up giving him?”
“None you and I haven’t discussed.”
“Clarify.”
“Call me sir. Kneel unless told otherwise. And always obey me.”
“And you made it clear no one else has power over him?”
“Damn clear, but I’ll make sure to continue reinforcing that. No one will touch him, bud.”
Maison scoffs. “No one but you.”
The words are like a knife in Nathan’s chest. “That’s not fair.”
“I know...”
“I didn’t fucking sign up for this, Mais. I knew I’d have to do some questionable things, but not this. Not rape – repeatedly fucking rape – and control and fucking own my best friend’s little brother. I’ve never even used a slave for more than cock warming or a quick blowjob. I didn’t sign up for this shit.”
“I know,” Maison says again, firmly this time.
“Tonight was the first time I’ve ever fucking raped someone. Do you get that? Do you understand that? I’m not fucking enjoying myself here, asshole.”
“Trav, I know. That wasn’t fair of me to say. I know you, man. I know how much this is already killing you.”
Nathan sighs, pushing to his feet and walking over to the door. He glances out again at Carter. The boy has moved, curled up on his side now, but he’s still asleep.
“I have no idea what I’m doing,” Nathan admits when he’s locked himself back in the small room. “I thought this would be easier. Not easy, but easier. The way he looks at me already - I’m a fucking monster to him. I’m his rapist.”
“I mean… yeah. You knew that’s how it’d be.”
“I know. I just-” Nathan swallows. “I just wish I could tell him that he’s safe.”
“He can’t find out the truth, Travis. He can’t.”
“I know.” Nathan shakes his head. “But I don’t know how mean I can be to him. I – fuck, man. I can barely get myself to touch him when I’m being gentle.”
“Hopefully he’ll behave, and all you’ll have to be is gentle.”
Nathan scoffs. “Behaving or not, it’s still rape.”
“Travis, get your shit together. If you fuck this up, you not only get your ass killed and blow our entire fucking operation, but you get my baby brother killed too.”
“I know. I’m not – that’s not the problem. I mean it fucking is, but I’m more concerned about him being too smart. He’s going to be confused when he sees the way the other slaves are treated. He’s going to see that he’s different.”
“He is different. He’s a trophy.”
“Still…”
After going quiet for a moment, Maison releases a deep breath. “How confident are you that
you could pretend that you’re falling in love with him over time?”
Nathan squints at the marbled counter of the sink. “What?”
“Ya know, you could pretend over time that you’re falling for him. You can play the whole villain goes soft for his lover angle. Tell him it has to be a secret between the two of you because your men will be upset. That way, you can at least be kind to him in private, and when you are a little softer in public, he’ll think it’s because of that.”
“So, you want me to fuck with his emotions even more than I already am?”
“I – fuck, I don’t know. No. Yes? Yes. No? Fuck if I know. Whatever feels right. I trust you.” Maison sighs. “Nate, this whole thing is going to work out, and the operation is going to be over soon, and I’ll have you to thank for saving my baby brother.”
“No pressure.”
“A shit ton of pressure, but you can handle it.”
Nathan isn’t so sure about that. Then again, he’s not so sure he has any other option but to handle it. Anything else results in death for him and Carter. Or much, much worse. Nathan sighs heavily, feeling a headache starting to form. “You know he’s going to find out what you are now, right? I can’t shield him from it. He’ll hear my men talking.”
Maison grunts. “Yeah. I know.”
“I-” Nathan stops, looking over at the door. He swears he heard – yeah, that’s definitely someone walking around the bedroom. “Shit. He’s awake. I gotta go. Talk soon.”
Stuffing his phone in his pocket, Nathan hurries out of the bathroom just in time to find Carter standing by the dresser. The boy moves away as if the thing just set on fire, then immediately drops to the floor and curls in on himself. He’s trembling. Nathan has a feeling it’s not from being cold.
“Stand up,” Nathan says in what he hopes is an authoritative but non-threatening voice. When Carter obeys, he adds, “Good boy remembering to kneel for me just now. You aren’t in trouble, in case you were worried. I never told you that you weren’t allowed to leave the bed or look around, though from now on I don’t want you leaving the bed once you’re put in it, unless you’re given permission or need to use the bathroom, understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“If you do need to use the bathroom, you’ll immediately come back to the bed after.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.”
Carter fidgets in place, clearly unsure what to do or say. He has his moose from e
arlier tight in his hands. The sight of it does something awful to Nathan’s heart.
Nathan sweeps his eyes over the boy, then sighs. “Are you still tired? Because I’m fucking exhausted.”
Carter nibbles on his bottom lip before whispering to the floor, “I need to use the bathroom, sir…”
“Go on, then. Leave the door open.”
The boy’s cheeks go red, but he mumbles, “Yes, sir,” and does as told. Nathan starts to undress while he waits, setting his Rolex and cufflinks on the top of the dresser. He shrugs out of his jacket and removes his tie before Carter returns. On a whim, he beckons the boy forward. He needs to make use of him as often as he can. This will be an excellent way to do so without causing him any harm.
“Take my shoes off.” Carter surprisingly doesn’t hesitate. He just lowers himself to his knees and carefully undoes the laces on Nathan’s right shoe. He slides it off and places it to the side before doing the same with the left. Then he looks up at Nathan for further instruction. “Socks.”
The socks come next, Carter laying them flat on top of each other beside the shoes.
Carter remains kneeling, his eyes locked on Nathan’s face. There are too many emotions in his big blue eyes. It makes it hard for Nathan to breathe.
Nathan looks away.
“If you use my weapons to kill me, my men will make you regret it. You can’t escape here. Don’t try.” Nathan takes his gun from his holster and places it on the dresser, followed by the gun in the waistband above his ass, then the folding knife from his pocket. Then he slides his holster off his shoulders and hangs it on the hook right beside the dresser. “You’ll learn this soon, but I’m the best chance you have here, sweetheart. Don’t run from me.”
The boy doesn’t argue. He just stares at Nathan, resigned and quiet.
When Nathan curls a finger, Carter stands up. “Belt.” His belt is slowly removed, coiled, and handed to him. He places it on the dresser before tugging his shirt out from his waistband and looking at the boy in front of him. Carter reaches forward tentatively. When Nathan doesn’t correct him, he begins undoing the buttons of his shirt, pushing it off Nathan’s shoulders and down his arms once it’s free. He folds the shirt exactly as it should be and places it on top of the neatly set shoes.
“Pants.”
Carter’s hands begin to shake, but he obeys without hesitation again. He’s careful and methodical with his movements. That is, until he guides Nathan’s feet out of his pants and sees the holster with his fixed blade on Nathan’s right ankle. Nathan decides to test him. The worst that can happen is Carter stabs him somewhere once. The best that can happen is he can see that the boy has already learned his lesson that hurting Nathan will only make things worse, not better. “Remove the knife first. Hand it to me, handle forward.”
The boy swallows hard. He hesitates this time. Nathan allows it. His hands curl slightly as he prepares himself for a possible fight. Then Carter is reaching forward, gently sliding the knife from its holster, and handing the weapon to Nathan with the handle forward. He meets Nathan’s eye as Nathan accepts the offering. Nathan can’t help but allow his lips to curve into a smile. “Good boy.”
Cheeks flushing again, Carter ducks his head. He likes the praise though. It’s obvious in the way his shoulders relax and his body shivers. In the way goosebumps erupt on his bare skin.
“The holster next.”
Carter removes the holster carefully, his fingertips brushing along Nathan’s skin. He’s never been so happy to have his ankle touched. It’s ridiculous. It’s wrong.
He ignores it.
Carter hands the holster to him, Nathan biting his tongue to keep from praising him once again.
Then Nathan realizes he’s come to a defining moment. All that’s left on his body is underwear. Carter has noticed too if his beet red face is any indication.
Nathan knows he should sleep naked.
Hell, he knows he should probably fuck Carter once more tonight. Since that won’t be happening, the least he can do is take his fucking underwear off. It’s not like Carter gets to have any.
With a sigh, Nathan slips into his role of cold, uncaring owner and gestures to his boxer briefs. “They aren’t going to remove themselves.”
Carter flinches, but he quickly follows the implied order, hooking his fingers into Nathan’s underwear and pulling it down until it’s around his ankles. Nathan has to bite back a moan when his semi-hard cock bobs just inches from Carter’s pretty face.
It’s the pill, he promises himself. Just the lingering effect of that fucking pill.
Self-hate bubbles up inside him when his cock hardens completely the moment Carter looks up at him from where he’s kneeling on the ground. He can tell the boy is preparing himself for something sexual. He can see the way he’s starting to shutter himself, his eyes going distant, his expression blank. At least Nathan’s arousal wanes as he watches the reaction. That makes him feel a tad better about himself.
Nathan forces a sigh, pretending like he couldn’t care less about any of this. Pretending he couldn’t care less about the boy at his feet. “I’m too fucking tired to deal with you anymore tonight. Do I need to chain you to the bed, or will you behave while we sleep?”
Carter looks up at him with wide eyes. “I’ll behave, sir.”
“Good. Because this room is perfectly decorated, and if I have to drag a dog crate in here to fuck it up just so I can sleep without worrying about you, I might just give you away to someone else instead while I rest. You wouldn’t want that, right?” Nathan nearly puffs up with pride at how well he just pulled that off. He sounded like a real monster there. Very convincing.
Because you are a real monster. You’ve become one. Can’t you see?
Nathan swallows hard, refusing to give the fleeting thought his attention.
“Right, sir,” Carter finally says, his voice thick and shaky. “I promise I’ll be very good.”
On accident, Nathan smiles again. Since he already fucked up his supposed demeanor, he follows instinct and adds, “Good boy.”
The boy has the same reaction as before to the praise. Nathan loves it far too much. He’s going to have to be careful around his men.
“Come then. You’ve had a long day, and tomorrow will be longer. Let’s get some rest.”
Carter wavers for a moment, clearly unsure if he’s allowed to stand or not. Nathan makes it simple by reaching down for his hand and guiding him to his feet. He gestures to the side of the bed Carter was on earlier. “This is your side.”
“Y-yes, sir.” Carter steels himself before forcing his body towards the bed. It’s almost painful to watch. He’s shaking by the time he climbs onto it, his breathing erratic. It takes two tries before he manages to get the blankets over himself.
Seeing the little moose was left on the floor, Nathan picks it up and brings it to the boy. He watches the fear in his eyes as he approaches. By the time Nathan is hovering over him at the side of his bed, he’s blinking away tears. Nathan’s heart aches for him. “Your moose.”
Carter frowns. Then his eyes leave the threat of Nathan’s looming body and focus on the tiny plush moose in Nathan’s hand instead. His body relaxes at the sight of it. Even a slight smile tugs at his lips. His hand still shakes when he takes the thing from Nathan, but his voice is even, his breathing slow, when he says, “Thank you, sir.”
With a sharp jerk of his head, Nathan walks around to the other side of the bed. He can feel Carter’s eyes tracking his every move. He slides easily under the blankets, trying to act like none of this matters to him. Then he reaches out for the control panel on the wall above the side table and swipes his hand across it, tapping the lights off icon. The room immediately falls into darkness.
It takes about ten seconds for Nathan to realize something is wrong. The boy beside him is trembling so violently his body is jerking beneath the blankets. Little gasps and whimpers are being frantically swallowed, just loud enough for Nathan to catch. Nathan tenta
tively reaches a hand out to touch where he thinks the boy’s shoulder must be. The moment their skin connects, Carter releases an awful sob.
Oh, Carter…
“Hey now,” Nathan says softly. “I’m not going to hurt you. Not if you’re good. Remember?”
The boy sobs harder. Nathan starts to pull his hand away, his mind racing, but he’s caught by surprise when Carter latches onto him. He holds Nathan like he’s drowning and Nathan is a life preserver. His shaking is so hard that Nathan feels it transferring up his own arm.
“Please don’t leave me,” the boy cries. His body is pressing in closer to Nathan. “Please don’t leave me.”
“No one is leaving you, sweetheart. I’m right here.”
“Please,” Carter sobs. His fingernails are digging into Nathan’s skin now. “I – I don’t wanna be alone. Not again. Not again.”
Nathan starts to sit up. The boy doesn’t allow it. He releases a frustrated sigh. “What is going on? Why are you afraid right now?”
“Please,” the boy begs. “Not again. Not again.”
“Not again what?”
“The dark!” he practically wails. “Not alone in the dark. Please!”
Nathan’s heart breaks. Not again. Not alone in the dark again.
When the fuck was this boy put in the dark all alone? Nathan doesn’t realize how angry he is until a growl slips past his lips. The boy immediately lets go and scrambles to the other side of the bed, sounding broken and terrified. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, sir. I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m-”
The boy’s panicked apologies are cut off when Nathan reaches out for him again. He tenses, prepared for pain, Nathan’s sure, but he just pulls Carter in close and holds him to his chest. It takes a few seconds of Nathan rubbing his back and whispering that he’s not alone before the boy finally starts to calm. Nathan holds him for as long as it takes. Even when Carter is breathing normally again, no longer jerking or crying with panic, he continues holding him.
