These Monstrous Deeds

by T. J. Hamel

  Something pokes at Carter’s hole. He squeezes his hands into fists to keep from swinging them at the men. He can feel blood pooling in his palms where his nails dig into the skin. It’s empowering, in a way. They can hurt him all they want, but he can make himself bleed too. They aren’t special.

  A sharp pain in his nipple pulls a gasp from Carter. He opens his eyes again, looking down to see what caused it. His eyes fill with tears as he watches Todd twist his nipple again.

  Fingers push into his ass, and he knows that Todd is searching for his prostate. Carter turns his head, whimpering. He knows what will happen when his prostate is found. He knows what his cock will do. It won’t matter that this isn’t consensual. It won’t matter that he’s in pain. It won’t matter that there is a fucking cage in the way. It’s biology.

  Todd is going to force Carter to get hard.

  And sir is just letting it happen.

  The moment the fingers graze his prostate, Carter flinches. He hates himself for not having the foresight to keep from reacting. Hates himself for giving Todd exactly what he needed to know he found his goal.

  As the man doubles-down on his efforts, he and sir talk.

  It’s all a blur of words and phrases, punctuated by bursts of pain.

  “-unlikely, but quite-”

  “Miller isn’t-”

  Too tight, the cage is too tight.

  “-kill-”

  A twist of his right nipple.

  “-useless-”

  A twist of the other one.

  “-isn’t necessary-”

  “That’s an excellent-”

  Teeth sinking into the flesh of his shoulder.

  “-could be worth-”

  The cage, the cage, oh god, take it off, please, take it off.

  “-agree entirely.”

  Make it stop. Just make it stop.

  “It’s settled, then.”

  Sir looks into Carter’s wide eyes, guilt etched into his expression as he gently runs his fingers through Carter’s hair to soothe him. Carter jerks away, not caring that it makes what Todd is currently doing hurt even worse. Sir stares at him in stunned silence.

  “You were right about him, Nate.”

  Eyes on Carter. Two sets. Heavy. Predatory.

  “How so?”

  Two hands slap down on his abused nipples. Carter cries out.

  “It’s quite a view, watching him lose it all.”

  “Mmm. Yes.” Sir sits back in his seat, moving further away from Carter. “We’re finished now. Might I suggest using him to handle that little issue in your pants? He’s excellent with his mouth.”

  There’s a relief that blooms in Carter’s chest when he’s dragged off the desk by his hair and dropped to the floor, even when his leg gets caught and twists in a way that sends pain down to his toes. He closes his eyes just as a hard cock is shoved into his mouth. Todd doesn’t stop until Carter’s nose is in his pubic hair, not caring when Carter chokes and gags.

  Words are growled at him. Degrading things. Cruel things.

  Carter manages to keep himself distanced from it all until Todd brings up Maison.

  Until Todd hits him where it hurts.

  “What do you think your older brother would say if he could see you now, hmmm? Think he’d be proud of how much of a cock slut you’ve become, or do you think he’d be fucking disgusted? He’d probably disown you after watching your useless cock trying to get hard for us. He’d see how much of a whore you are and probably fucking leave you here. You’re fucking pathetic. Why would he even want you? We’ve ruined you.”

  Carter crumbles. Todd’s eyes flash in triumph, his cock exploding without warning. It’s a big load, and Carter is mid-sob, so he chokes on most of it. Todd just collects whatever he missed and shoves it back into his mouth, fingers reaching down his throat until Carter is gagging. He slaps Carter across the face for good measure afterward.

  With a terrifying smile, Todd wipes his cock clean on Carter’s tear-soaked cheek before ordering, “Swallow all of this, or you’ll fucking regret it.”

  Carter has no idea what the words mean, since he had already swallowed the man's disgusting cum. Before he has time to figure it out, Todd is harshly yanking his jaw down and holding it with a finger latched in his mouth, his softening cock coming to rest between Carter's parted lips.

  Carter's eyes fly open at the first spurt of hot, rancid urine. He panics, trying to pull away, piss shooting all over his body, but stops immediately when it earns him a shoe to his caged cock. His eyes quickly squeeze shut before they get the chance to accidentally fall on sir. Carter can’t see that man right now. He just… can’t.

  And then Carter hears a dark, cold, “No.”

  The piss stops, Todd apparently holding it in as he turns to look at sir. Carter looks too, his chest heaving as he tries to calm himself down. Sir’s eyes meet his and something passes between them. Something Carter doesn’t understand.

  “No?” Todd asks.

  “Do not piss in my slave’s mouth.”

  Todd seems perplexed. He looks at Carter, frowning, then back at sir. “I’m sorry. I – most men don’t care. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

  “Most men’s slaves aren’t Maison Beckett’s little brother. The last thing I need is the slave getting sick.”

  “Of course. My apologies.”

  “No reason to apologize.” Sir smiles, but it’s tight. “I assure you, it’s not something I’m upset about. I realize I should have mentioned it when giving you the rules. It had slipped my mind.”

  Todd tucks himself away, looking less afraid now but still uncomfortable. He must not like that he’s lost his power over Carter because he turns to him right then and smacks the back of his hand against Carter’s wet cheek hard enough to make lights burst in his vision.

  “See ya this weekend, whore.”

  Now that Carter’s panic is pulled back, his mind coming down, all he can focus on is the physical issues he’s facing. The throbbing cheek from where Carter was hit so hard that he’s wondering if the skin broke. The leg that’s still tingling with a numbing sort of pain that makes Carter a little nervous. The piss that had made its way into his mouth and on his body, his tongue heavy with the rancid liquid, his stomach hot, his skin slick and smelly. Carter shudders, clamping his mouth shut as he fights the urge to vomit.

  “I gotta tell ya, Nate,” Todd says with a dark chuckle. “If you do decide you don’t want the thing when you’re finished using him against Maison, I’d be willing to buy him off ya. No reason to kill something that’s so pretty when it cries.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” sir says in amusement.

  Carter wonders what it’d be like to die. Would it hurt? Would it be a relief? Would it be better? Worse?

  This would all be over if he died.

  It’d all finally be over.

  Sir pushes to his feet as Todd walks towards the office door. Carter stares straight ahead without really seeing what’s in front of him. He barely hears when sir says, “Stay. Don’t move.”

  Carter doesn’t move. He doesn't speak. He's honestly not sure if he even can.

  Carter doesn't understand his life anymore. Everything was twisted and turned until he was something he never imagined being. Then, miraculously, he had started grasping his life again. He thought he was learning. Him and sir were finding a delicate balance together. He was special. Sir liked making him feel good. If he behaved, he'd be treated well. Carter was prepared to live this new existence. He was prepared for this to be his world.

  Then sir gave him to Todd.

  Sir let Todd abuse him.

  Sir used another slave.

  Sir proved that Carter isn’t special.

  Nothing makes sense anymore. Nothing feels even slightly okay.

  Todd was right. They’ve ruined him.

  Carter barely understands how to breathe.

  He doesn’t even know if he wants to anymore.

  ◆◆◆

 
After a few more minutes of speaking with Todd in the hall, Nathan escorts him to the main door and wishes him a good night. The guard hasn’t even locked up before Nathan is turning on his heel, all but running to his office. Tonight went too far. Nathan let things go too far.

  How the fuck was he supposed to know Todd Henley would decide to piss in Carter’s mouth? The bastard didn’t ask for permission. He just fucking did it.

  And the awful things he had said to the poor boy…

  Nathan can’t stop rewatching it all unfold in his mind. Every step brings a new flash – Carter crying, a purple cock pushing against a cage, puffy red nipples, Carter’s body crumpling to the floor, Carter’s expression when Todd spoke of Maison, the burst of panic when Carter first realized – Nathan closes his eyes, shaking his head.

  He’ll never forgive himself.

  All that matters is Carter now.

  Nathan has to focus on Carter.

  The apology Nathan had planned dies on his tongue when he enters his office to find Carter curled in a fetal position beside a puddle of vomit.

  Carter’s eyes snap up to Nathan when he senses him. He pushes himself into an awful kneeling position and starts to shake his head frantically. He cries, “I’m sorry!” before dropping his head and succumbing to uncontrollable sobs. Nathan rushes forward, skirting around the vomit on the floor. There’s some on Carter too – a few drops on his knees, and a splotchy coating on his hands like he had tried to catch it.

  “Christ,” Nathan whispers, feeling the sudden urge to join Carter in his puking and crying endeavors.

  “I’m sorry!” Carter says again, though it’s barely discernible with how hard he’s sobbing. “I’m so sorry!”

  "Shhh. No. Don't apologize. You're okay. It's okay." It doesn't seem as if Carter hears him, the boy just continuing to sob. "Sweetheart, you were so good for me. You made me so proud. This is - you're fine. I'm not mad, okay? I'm not mad."

  Carter's crying slows, but it seems less to do with him feeling better and more to do with him going almost… empty. Every second that passes brings him out of his fit and into something blank. It's not long before he's gone quiet and still, his body barely trembling anymore. The boy stares straight ahead, no trace of emotion in his eyes. His breathing goes very slow and calm.

  No. No. No. No. No.

  This can't happen. He can't be broken. No.

  Nathan quickly scoops Carter up, hating how lifeless the boy is in his arms as he carries him back to the bedroom. Carter continues staring straight ahead at nothing. He doesn’t speak or respond to Nathan, not even when he’s asked questions or offered praise. When Nathan asks if he’d like to bathe or shower, Carter just breathes. When Nathan removes his cock cage, he doesn’t even flinch. When Nathan tells him he’s so very good, he only blinks.

  “Hey!” Nathan finally snaps, his panic getting the best of him. He grabs Carter’s cheeks with one hand and squeezes until their gazes lock. “You fucking answer me when I speak to you.”

  After one slow blink, Carter responds in a robotic version of his voice. “Sorry, Master.”

  Master.

  What the fuck?

  “Do you want a bath or a shower?”

  There’s a pause. Then, “Alone, Master?”

  Nathan shakes his head, giving the boy what he hopes is a comforting smile. He would never leave him alone right now. He knows how much Carter craves touch and affection, especially when he's upset. "Of course not, sweetheart. I'll join you in either."

  "Oh." Carter drops his gaze just as Nathan catches a glimpse of emotion in his eyes. His voice comes out raspy as he whispers, "May I just sleep, Master?"

  "You're covered in piss and vomit," Nathan states dumbly, feeling like he's going crazy.

  "If it bothers you, Master, I can sleep in the cage instead." Carter looks at him through his lashes. "I wouldn't want to ruin the sheets."

  Nathan's heart begins to pound, his hands trembling as he carefully removes them from Carter's body. He takes a step back as realization strangles him. Carter is willing to sleep all night covered in piss and vomit inside an uncomfortable cage just to be away from Nathan.

  Nathan endured a wide variety of training before being posted in this job, and he’s seen a decent amount of action as Nathan Roarke. He’s been shot. Stabbed. Cut. Electrocuted. Broken. Waterboarded.

  But Nathan swears, he has never felt anything worse than this moment.

  "You'll clean yourself if you're alone?" he asks, praying to whoever the fuck might be listening that he has it wrong.

  "Yes, Master."

  Nathan feels his throat close with grief. He blinks back tears. He should insist he stay. He should force the boy to accept his care. But then he remembers how he had tried to comfort Carter earlier, when Todd had him sprawled on the desk, and how Carter had jerked away from him. The boy doesn’t want his comfort. Things are bad enough without Nathan bothering him too.

  Feeling numb, Nathan turns his back and says in an emotionless voice he's really fucking proud of, "Fine. I'll be back, then. Get in the shower and clean yourself."

  He leaves Carter, going into the bedroom so he can undress and get his shit together.

  Needing to feel like himself again, needing to feel human, Nathan takes a risk by putting on his faded Nike shirt with his favorite sweatpants. When he returns to the bathroom to check on the boy, he finds him curled up on his side, cheek resting on the floor of the shower, eyes squeezed shut so tightly they must ache.

  “Are you clean?” Nathan asks over the sound of the water.

  Carter blinks his eyes a few times before forcing himself to sit up. “Yes, Master.”

  Nathan stands there just staring at him as water falls down his body. He can see that the body wash and shampoo have moved, so he knows the boy at least properly washed himself before deflating to the ground. There's also his toothbrush, toothpaste, and a very depleted bottle of mouthwash on one of the shelves now too. Nathan supposes that might be the best he can ask for in this scenario.

  Grabbing a towel, Nathan motions for Carter to get out. He lifts the towel as if to wrap it around the boy’s shoulders, but Carter very obviously pretends to misunderstand, taking the towel from Nathan to wipe himself off. His eyes remain on the floor as he methodically dries his body, not even lifting when he offers the towel back to Nathan.

  Not knowing what else to do, Nathan puts the towel in the hamper and follows Carter to bed. If it bothers Carter that Nathan is suddenly wearing sleep clothes when he never has before, the boy doesn’t indicate it.

  Pausing, Nathan finds himself wondering if maybe clothing could help Carter feel better right now too. He needs a reminder of his humanity just like Nathan does.

  Peeling his shirt off, Nathan climbs onto the bed where Carter is now sitting and offers it to him. Carter just stares at the ball of fabric.

  "Sleep in this tonight. You've earned it."

  Carter licks his bottom lip before tentatively taking the shirt. He slides it on with shaking hands, his small body drowning in it as it flows down to his thighs and falls off his left shoulder. The angry bite mark there taunts Nathan. He quickly looks away.

  “Here,” Nathan says softly, grabbing the small moose that had somehow made its way on his side of the bed and handing it to Carter. He gives the boy a smile. Carter takes the stuffed animal, curling it tight to his chest, but he doesn’t smile in return. He doesn’t even make eye contact with Nathan.

  "You also earned your reward," Nathan adds as he dims the lights and gets beneath the blankets.

  Carter slowly lowers himself until he's lying down, his body so close to the edge of the bed Nathan’s afraid he'll fall off. "No thank you, Master," he whispers.

  Everything in Nathan seems to screech to a halt. "Excuse me?"

  "I - I'd rather not, Master. If it's okay."

  “You don’t want a day off tomorrow?”

  The boy pauses. Then, sheepishly, he asks, "Will you be there, Master?"

  "
You don't want me to be." It's not a question, but a statement. A realization. Carter doesn't bother confirming it.

  Nathan had used tomorrow as a way to survive what happened in his office. Hell, to survive all of tonight. He had thought of all the ways he was going to pamper Carter. They were going to be lazy in bed and watch movies. He was going to bring him books. He'd give Carter a massage. He'd make Carter laugh. He'd let Carter talk like a real person.

  He had really thought Carter would want him there. Nathan is supposed to be the good guy. Or, at least, the best of the bad guys. But Carter is saying he'd rather spend another day miserable as a sex slave than be stuck in the bedroom all day, free but with Nathan.

  Unable to grasp the enormity of that, Nathan just says, "We can speak about it in the morning. Get some rest, sweetheart."

  Carter doesn't respond.

  Feeling very close to heartbroken, Nathan leaves the bed again, heading into the bathroom. He locks the door and runs the water to keep Carter from eavesdropping. Then he dials.

  3 rings. “Name?”

  “Eagle 2.”

  “Code?”

  “7134.”

  “Hold.”

  Maison answers immediately, clearly having been waiting. It’d be amusing how not nonchalant he is when he says, “Hey man, what’s up?” if Nathan wasn’t having the awful night he’s having.

  Nathan gets a glimpse of himself in the mirror on accident.

  He quickly turns away.

  Nathan cuts to the chase, not bothering to pretend Maison actually wants to chit-chat for a while. “Carter is okay.”

  There is a heavy, relieved sigh on Maison’s end of the phone. “What happened? How bad-”

  “Henley is going to work with us,” Nathan says in a cold, even tone as he cuts his best friend off. He needs to get this out. Get this over with. “He’s agreed to the plan we pitched. He’ll be at the event this weekend and will approach Miller there.”

  After a pause that Nathan is sure Maison uses to consider whether or not he’s going to allow the sudden topic shift, Maison asks, “You trust him?”

  “Nope. But compared to most of the others in this world, I at least trust that he’s truly on our side. He seemed eager.”