by T. J. Hamel
“You don’t get privacy in this house. Leave this open. And hurry. You don’t want to make me miss breakfast, trust me.”
“Yes, sir,” Carter whispers, letting go of the door and hurrying to the toilet. He glances over to find sir standing there watching him, and he’s thankful all he has to do is pee. It’s awkward and humiliating to be watched as it is. He can’t imagine if he had to poop in front of the man. Hopefully whenever that time comes, sir will be distracted.
Once he’s relieved himself, Carter gets in the shower. He’s unable to see if sir is still in the doorway or not, but it doesn’t matter. He needs to focus on cleaning himself – thoroughly – and hurrying to get to the foot of the bed.
Carter soaps up his hair with one hand while running his other over his chest, shoulders, and arms. Then he tries to do his back the best he can. As the water does its job rinsing his hair out, Carter gets more soap on his hands and begins cleaning his bottom half. He’s hairless now, they had waxed him at the auction house, and it feels strange to soap up smooth legs and a smooth crotch. He doesn’t let himself dwell on it, though. He just hurries along, making sure to get every crease and hidden place he can find.
After putting it off until the very last moment, Carter forces himself to clean the place he’s sure sir was referring to when speaking about being thorough. With one shaking hand on the wall to brace himself, Carter reaches back. Tears spring to his eyes as he slips a soapy finger into his hole. He’s not hurt from last night, he was lucky sir prepared him so well, but he’s still sore. It doesn’t help that the finger reminds him of what it felt like to be raped, and he hates the way his stomach hurts with the memory. Carter needs to pull his hand away immediately, hoping the area is clean enough for sir because he can’t touch himself there anymore. It feels too… he doesn’t even know. It just feels too.
When Carter shuts the water off and slides the fogged glass shower door open, he jumps, nearly slipping, as he comes face to face with sir. Sir just lifts an eyebrow at him, lips twitching in amusement. Carter notices he’s holding a fluffy white towel. He reaches for it, a thank you on his lips, but stops when sir pulls the towel out of reach. “Step out on the mat here. Legs parted.”
Carter does as told, his heart racing. It’s impossible to miss the way sir looks at him. There’s a heat in his gaze. A possessiveness. Carter holds perfectly still as the man uses the towel to dry him off. It’s not long before he’s relaxing, though. It’s impossible not to as he watches sir methodically dry him. Every touch is so… gentle. It’s that same possessiveness he felt in his gaze before, but softer now. The first type of possessiveness was a you’re mine and I’m going to take you possessiveness. The second type is a you’re mine and I’m going to take care of you possessiveness. It’s such a subtle shift, but it feels like everything.
Then sir is drying him off by wrapping his cock in the towel’s fabric, stroking it until Carter is growing hard for him, and Carter remembers that the first possessiveness is the real one. The other was an illusion. Wishful thinking. This man bought him for the purpose of fucking him. Any care he shows is just sir providing maintenance on his possession.
It hurts, but it shouldn’t hurt, so Carter stuffs the pain down as low as possible. Until it’s almost non-existent.
Sir finishes drying him off, stepping back and tossing the damp towel into a hamper. Carter reaches up self-consciously to run his fingers through his hair. He knows it’s a mess. It’s always such a mess. Especially now that it’s gotten so much longer than normal, the locks falling on his forehead and curling around his ears.
Before Carter even gets a chance to tame his hair, sir is wrapping a hand around Carter’s bicep and pulling him out of the bathroom. Carter forgets all about his hair and focuses instead on the rest of his orders, remembering to kneel the moment sir releases his arm.
Once he’s settled at sir’s feet, the man does nothing but stare at him. Even without looking up to see sir’s gaze, Carter can feel the weight of it. The heat. The possessiveness from before. He realizes sir is probably going to fuck him again. Maybe not this exact moment, but soon. Very soon. The thought causes Carter to sink into himself, but sir scolds him for it. “Straighten your back and look up at me. Don’t be disrespectful.”
Carter wants to tell him that he was only told to kneel, there weren’t any other stipulations, but he bites his tongue. Sir is in a bad mood today. Worse than last night. Carter knows he shouldn’t test him. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“Good.” Sir sighs, the sound surprisingly shaky, and reaches his hand out to run his fingers through Carter’s hair, taming the mess a bit like Carter had been trying to do earlier. Then he reaches down and unclasps the collar around Carter’s neck.
The world goes still, Carter’s breath catching.
Then he sees the new collar in sir’s hand, and he understands. He nearly laughs at himself for being ridiculous enough to think he wouldn’t be collared like an animal. This man has purchased him to be a sex slave. Of course, he’s going to collar him. Sir probably just wants his own collar on Carter instead of someone else’s.
In case Carter has any doubts, sir makes the situation clear. “You’re mine, now. You should wear my collar. This will never come off of you, understood? It’s waterproof. Once this is locked, I’m throwing away the key. Do you understand what that means, sweetheart?”
Carter nods. “Yes, sir.”
“Tell me.”
Forcing himself to look up at his sir, Carter states, “It means I belong to you, sir. For – forever.”
The man towering over him hums his approval but says nothing as he reaches down to wrap the collar around his neck. It’s softer than the one before. Carter thinks it might even be padded. He supposes if he has to be collared for the rest of his life, it’s a decent collar to be stuck with.
Once sir has the collar clasped at the back of Carter’s neck, he tugs at it once, then slips a finger beneath it almost like he’s testing the fit. Seeming to like where it’s at, sir locks the tiny padlock at the back of Carter’s neck and tilts his chin with one hand, putting the collar on display for sir to look at. All Carter can focus on as he stares up at his new owner is the echo of that padlock clicking.
Forever.
It’s locked there forever.
Oblivious to the overwhelming moment Carter has found himself trapped in, sir moves on to his next order of business. “Now, tell me the 3 rules from last night.”
Shit. Carter hurries through the scrambled thoughts in his brain, desperate to please this man. He doesn’t want to be bad. He doesn’t want a punishment.
“I will always call you sir. I – uh – I will always kneel unless told otherwise. And my body belongs to you. Only you. Only you can give me orders, and I have to – to obey without hesitation.” Carter bites his bottom lip before quickly adding, “But I have to be respectful to everyone, sir.”
“And the new rule regarding the bed?”
“I’m not allowed to leave it without permission, sir. Unless it’s to use the bathroom.”
He waits to be told this is good, but all he gets is a curt nod. It hurts in a way Carter didn’t expect.
“Lean over. Forehead on the floor. Ass in the air.”
Ice runs through Carter’s veins as he forces his body into the position. This is it. Sir is going to fuck him now. Carter squeezes his eyes shut, clamping down on his bottom lip as he waits with his ass humiliatingly on display. He startles when a hand touches his hip.
Carter parts his lips, intending to apologize, but he quickly closes his mouth when he realizes he’s going to cry. Instead, he curls his finger until his nails dig into his palms and keeps himself in place. Every second afterward is torture as he waits to be yelled at.
But it never happens.
The familiar sound of a lube bottle being opened makes Carter’s stomach twist, but he manages to keep his body still.
Then, just like the night before, sir suddenly… softens. “Breath
e for me, sweetheart.”
Carter squeezes his eyes shut even tighter, trying to force his muscles to relax. It doesn’t work so well if sir’s sigh is any indication. Surprisingly, though, the sound isn’t angry or frustrated. It’s almost… sad.
Or maybe that’s just Carter.
A finger rubs against Carter’s hole for a few seconds before sliding into him. Carter gasps, mostly out of surprise since he’s slightly open already from cleaning himself in the shower. Unfortunately, sir notices this as well and adds a second finger. Carter whimpers. If sir notices, he doesn’t say anything. He just continues opening Carter, his touch cold and clinical. When sir hooks his two fingers inside Carter’s rim and gently runs them along the edges to stretch him, Carter grits his teeth to stay silent.
“Relax,” sir reminds him, rubbing Carter’s left ass cheek with his free hand. Carter feels unshed tears soaking his lashes. He’s holding his breath, which he knows is why he’s so tense, but he can’t change it. He’s pretty sure the next breath he takes will be a sob. Sir won’t like that.
Sir’s two fingers slide out of Carter’s hole, but Carter doesn’t feel any sort of relief from it. He knows something more is coming. The man wouldn’t just finger him open for no reason. Carter still flinches when something impossibly big and heavy pushes at his hole. Sir doesn’t yell at him or spank him. He just runs a soothing hand along Carter’s spine. “Relax, remember? Relax for me, sweetheart. It’s just a plug. Slaves are meant to be plugged.”
More lube is drizzled over Carter’s hole. Then the plug starts pushing in. “Accept your plug, sweetheart. Be good for me.”
Breathing out through his nose, Carter forces himself to obey. He at least manages to relax enough to take the plug in. But the breath required to do so comes in the form of a choked sob, just as he had worried it would. He feels the man behind him go tense. Fear spikes in Carter’s chest as he tries to swallow any other sobs. He tries to ground himself by focusing on the plug in his ass instead. The burning. The aching. The pain is fading as it settles inside of him, making it uncomfortable, but no longer painful. It surprisingly helps to focus on that feeling. Particularly focusing on the weight of the plug. There’s something about its presence that’s almost… calming.
As calming as something can be in this fucked up situation.
“Sit up.”
Carter listens, quickly wiping his cheeks before sir can see. He was lucky not to be scolded for crying just now. He doesn’t want to push that luck. If sir is anything like the guards, he won’t want to deal with Carter’s emotions. He certainly hadn’t liked them last night when he caught Carter crying in the bathroom.
Sir reaches over to the dresser and grabs a leash. It’s new, like the collar. They match, both the same smooth black leather. Carter can’t help but flinch when he hears the click of the golden metal hook when it latches onto the ring at the front of his collar.
“Come.” Sir turns his back to Carter, taking a step toward the door. “Keep up.”
Carter starts to stand, only for sir to stop him with a hand on his shoulder that presses him down. Carter looks up to find the man scowling at him. “Did I say you could walk?”
“N-no, sir.”
“What’s rule number 2?”
“Kneel unless told otherwise, sir.”
“Then listen. That’s your one and only warning. Don’t fuck up in front of my men today.” Sir pauses, his eyes darting away. “They won’t be as forgiving.”
Swallowing a whimper, Carter forces himself to nod.
Sir tugs again. This time, Carter remains on the floor. He hurries along on his hands and knees, trying to keep up like he was told. He can feel the plug shifting inside of him with every movement. He can feel lube dripping down his left thigh.
It’s awful.
Humiliating.
Things only get worse when they leave the seemingly private hallway with sir’s suite and turn down a hall with an audience. The first man Carter is led past grins down at him. Carter immediately drops his head, realizing it’s safer if he just watches the floor instead of looking around. He’ll take the time to soak in the details of his new prison some other time. Not right now, as he’s busy trying to work his way through his suffocating emotions. One thing at a time.
The longer they move, the more Carter’s hands and knees ache. It’s harder than he thought to crawl. Especially on hardwood flooring, at the quick pace sir is keeping. Carter tries to focus on the pain like he had in the bedroom. It works for a little while.
Then someone behind Carter touches his left ass cheek, someone who isn’t sir because sir is in front of him still holding the leash. After that, all distractions are gone. There are people everywhere. Leering at him. Commenting on him. Calling him names. Someone says he was clearly meant to be a slave because he looks so perfect collared and leashed. Someone laughs.
Another person touches him – though it’s less of a touch this time, and more of a smack. Carter scrambles closer to sir and whimpers. They all laugh at that. Carter wants to sink into the fucking floor and disappear.
“Hold still, pet,” sir says in amusement. Carter can’t tell what’s worse, that sir is going to let these people continue to touch him, or that sir just called him pet like he truly is an animal.
Carter begins to violently tremble as multiple hands stroke along his body. He has to clench his jaw to stop his teeth from clacking together. All of Carter’s humanity has been sucked out of him, leaving nothing but a pet. He’s the new puppy in the dog park, all of the kids asking if they can pet him, eagerly running their hands along him as his owner stands by looking proud. They even speak of him like a dog.
“So well behaved already.”
“So pretty.”
“Such a good boy.”
A hand wraps around his plug, tugging at it. That’s the first time Carter sheds a tear. He turns his face into sir’s leg, barely able to catch his breath as he tries not to fully cry. A hand rests on his head, fingers running through his hair. He somehow knows that it’s sir.
“Do not touch my slave’s hole,” he hears sir say in a cold, dangerous voice.
Someone apologizes.
Carter sucks in his breath, trying to calm himself by not breathing at all for a few seconds. That’s when he hears the worst of all. “Can we fuck him?”
The world spins until Carter is dizzy with fear. Sir’s voice is far away when he answers, the words barely reaching Carter. “No. No one will ever fuck him except me.”
Carter doesn’t have time to calm down. Not when sir adds, “Until we catch his big brother, of course. Then we’ll all take a turn while Maison watches.”
Stop paying attention, Casey whispers in the back of Carter’s mind. Keep calm and breathe. That’s all we need right now. That’s what we have to focus on. Keep calm. Breathe. Just shut everything else out.
“Will we get to touch him at all, sir?” someone asks.
“On very rare occasions, and only as a reward or gift. All of you should do your best to earn him. He’ll satisfy you, I’m sure.”
Carter’s stomach twists. Bile burns the back of his tongue.
Shut it all out, Carter. Stop listening.
Daffodils. Carter thinks of the daffodils. An entire field of daffodils. He’s lying down among them, wearing his favorite purple sweater and jeans. The sun is warm on his skin. The breeze is light and refreshing. The scent of fresh grass and flowers is filling his nostrils.
Carter is yanked out of his happy place when the collar around his neck is wrenched. He gasps, eyes blinking rapidly as his body is nearly dragged across the floor. It takes him a few seconds to catch up, crawling once again instead of sir using the leash to pull him along. They’re in a dining room by the time Carter has the world figured out again. Carter can feel tears on his cheeks, but sir is walking too fast now to be able to wipe at them, so he just lets them fall. When they approach the long, beautiful table, Carter is filled with dread.
There are oth
er slaves. Some are kneeling beside their master while their master eats. Others are under the table, keeping cocks warm with their mouths or giving full-on blowjobs. Carter knew in theory that other slaves would be around, but he hadn’t fully realized how hard that would be.
Where is Elliot right now? Casey?
Are they okay?
Are they still alive?
Carter tries not to panic as the thoughts swirl. Sir takes a seat at the head of the table, maneuvering Carter beneath it and into a kneeling position between his legs. Sir pushes his chair back and ducks his head down, using the leash to tie Carter’s hands behind his back now. When he pulls away, his lips part like he’s about to say something. He stops when he sees Carter’s face, though. When he sees the tears.
Carter swears he sees something human in the man’s expression. Just for the briefest of moments. It’s a peek into the man from last night, the man who held him close, the man who called him sweetheart. Then sir’s expression goes to stone and he’s unzipping his pants. Carter tries not to start crying again as he watches the man pull his cock out.
Sir clears his throat, his voice particularly rough as he orders, “Keep my cock warm while I eat. No sucking. Just rest it on your tongue and hold still.”
With a sharp nod, Carter waits for sir to scoot his chair into place so he can reach the cock with his mouth. He wishes he had his hands, but sir helps him by cupping the back of his neck and guiding him forward. Carter opens his mouth and accepts sir’s cock as it’s guided into his mouth.
Sir is soft. Carter’s thankful. He wasn’t sure how to keep his hard cock warm. It’s a lot to keep in his mouth. Sir is the biggest Carter has ever seen. Even soft, the man is intimidating.
Carter tentatively settles the cock inside his mouth, letting it rest heavy on his tongue like told. It’s hard to find a comfortable position, but Carter manages to find a place where his neck isn’t crooked too badly and the cock in his mouth isn’t slipping out.
It’s not long before Carter’s neck is cramping, though. He’s at an awkward angle, ducked beneath the table, trying to keep the soft cock in his mouth, his knees aching, his arms tied behind his back pulling on his already sore shoulders. He tries to subtly shift, hoping to find a better position. The one he ends up in is even worse than the first.
