Break the Chains

by Reis Asher

  What a stupid thought. He hated that his optimistic heart still held out some dumb kind of hope. Avery didn't even know where he was, and there was no chance he was coming. Avery had loved him because as a slave, he'd had no other option but to survive. He'd been vulnerable and broken—unable to tell the difference between love and dependence.

  He didn't need Conrad any more. Avery's father would make sure he had the best of everything. Conrad closed his eyes, hoping wherever Avery was, he was happy. That he'd forgiven Conrad.

  Conrad would be leaving with an organ trader. The mines wouldn't want him, not at his age. He was too old for porn flicks, and even in his prime, he hadn't possessed an impressive body, not like Avery, not even close. Just thinking about Avery's eight inches buried deep within him made him stir. God, they'd been reckless in their final days, and now Conrad had no meds to keep HIV at bay. Maybe that would be his final act of vengeance: an organ trader would buy him, only to find out later on that he'd been infected in those last days—too late to show on a test. Some prick who paid to jump the organ line would pay the price.

  The thought didn't give him any satisfaction. Bitterness just seemed to roll off him. Maybe because he'd chosen this fate, taken it gladly in Avery's place, but he felt no resentment. What had happened to Avery had been a tragedy, and he took no pleasure in the thought of infecting others. Even scumbags who dealt in human lives deserved better.

  A guard walked past his cage, stopped, and barked out, "Strip."

  Despite the cold, Conrad complied immediately, passing his clothing through the bars as instructed. He felt exposed in his nakedness, but he didn't resist when the guard reached through the bars and grabbed his cock.

  "Don't fondle the merchandise. Auction's in an hour. If you devalue the product, you can forget about being paid." A supervisor came over and hovered over the scene, and the guard let go as if he'd been stung.

  "Can I stuff my cock in his mouth? Nobody will know."

  "No. Come the fuck on, Devon. We've got work to do." The guards shuffled away, and Conrad felt a deep sense of relief at his brief moment of respite. He hated himself for it. He should have offered himself up. The Conrad of a year ago would have sucked any dick and loved it. He'd changed, and it was going to make him a problematic slave if he didn't get rid of his sentimentality for Avery. He'd never wanted to be exclusive to anyone, and the thought that it had happened now, of all times, made him curse his own shitty luck. Getting on the good side of a guard could have given him an edge later on, a higher starting price if the guard talked him up to the auctioneer. Maybe a price out of the range of the lowball offers snuff pornographers and organ traders offered up.

  The bidders started to arrive, perusing the slaves and noting their lot numbers. He watched an array of colorful characters pass by his cell, offering little in the way of interest. A young woman reached through the bars and gave his cock a squeeze, but a glance a few cages further down showed she did the same to any slave she found attractive—and there were a lot of them. A greasy-haired man looked him over, and Conrad felt a shiver crawl up his spine. Whatever the man wanted to do to him, it wasn't good. The man licked his lips in a threatening manner, and Conrad hoped someone else took an interest in him.

  Conrad wanted to take that thought back when he recognized the next man who walked by.

  The Master smiled, reaching through the bars and lifting his face so their eyes met. "I'd heard the rumors…but I didn't believe them. My, my. What a treat you'd be in my collection. I could track down that freed slave of yours and get him to come running with a drop of your name, I'm sure. Then I'd put a rifle in his hands and make him kill you for prizes. Maybe I'd fuck you first in front of him, just so I could watch him crumple."

  Conrad was grateful for once he had to keep his eyes down, so he didn't reveal his disgust at the erection tenting in the Master's black pants. "Maybe he wouldn't care, though. I didn't realize who he was, until they posted his photo on the evening news. Avery Tulano indeed—what a twist. God, how long do you think it'll be before he forgets slavery and decides he wants a slave of his own? Maybe he'll have a collection—most wealthy men do, nowadays."

  Conrad kept his mouth shut, aware of the guard looming in the background with his cattle prod ready to go.

  "You're mine. You're too entertaining a morsel to pass up. I'll keep you until Avery comes calling. Maybe he'll care and I'll break him. Maybe he won't and he'll kick you to the curb like chattel. Either way, you'll amuse me." The Master grinned, gold teeth gleaming in the low light. He passed by, leaving Conrad to contemplate the chasm of despair opening in his gut.

  He'd prepared himself to be bought and fucked by some stranger, but he hadn't anticipated this. Not the Master. Anyone but him. The thought of Avery restored to his status as spoiled rich kid hunting him for sport made him shudder and he stopped the image dead in its tracks. Avery would never do that. Not after what he'd been through. The Master was fucking with him and if Conrad let him get under his skin, he'd won.

  But he'd won, anyway. His threat to buy Conrad had not been empty, and he had the money to outbid anyone else in the room. Maybe it would be easier to find a way out while he still could. With enough goading, perhaps a guard could be convinced to beat him to death. It wouldn't be pleasant, but he'd be free.

  Hope still curdled in his gut, sour like spoiled milk. He scanned the faces of every buyer who passed by, hoping, praying for Avery, but he never came. Even with the masks many buyers used, he would have known Avery in a heartbeat.

  The buyers took their seats and the auction began, and for the first time since he'd signed the contract, real terror set in.

  Avery

  "Here's all the money you want. Here. Now tell me where they took him!" Avery slapped ten thousand dollars in cash down on Conrad's coffee table. It had been a simple matter of coming back to the house and looking through the address book on Conrad's cordless phone to get the number he needed. Christina had come running at the sound of money, and she sat cross-legged on Conrad's couch.

  "It's too late," Christina said. "You'll never reach the auction in time anyway." She almost seemed disappointed as she counted out the money. "The auction's in Bangor, Maine. Here's the address." She scribbled a note on a coffee stained legal pad and tore the page off, handing it over. She looked at her cellphone. "Bidding starts in an hour. Even with a private jet, you'll never make it."

  "Thanks for the idea." Avery ran from the house. He broke every speed limit in his dad's sports car, driving coming back to him like a buried instinct. There was no time for social anxiety where he was going. Either he saved Conrad, or the reason he'd found for living would be gone as quickly as it had come. He fought the panic that threatened to overwhelm him as he reached his father's private airstrip. A valet took his car, and the staff helped him onboard. Wheels were up as quickly as they could manage it, his staff amazed to see him alive and in one piece. He'd have time for lengthy conversations and explanations later.

  Or maybe not. He had no intention of living off his father's goodwill. Once the money was gone, he planned to live his life as an ordinary man, earning what he could in an honest manner. It wasn't right to mooch off his father now that he'd stated his desire to never run the business. This flight was the last time he ever intended to ask for anything.

  The plane landed and Avery looked at the clock with horror. He was already late by half an hour. He'd never make it. Never make it.

  No, he would make it. He had to make it. He rented a car at the small airport they landed at, speeding through unfamiliar streets without a care in the world for anything else but Conrad. The onboard GPS took him to a shabby old warehouse with a surprising number of cars parked in front. This had to be the place. Avery ran across the lot, leaving his car double-parked. They could ticket him later, he didn't give a fuck.

  He burst through the doors. All eyes turned to him, huffing and panting. He scanned the cages, searching for Conrad. His eyes fixed on the man, standing
with his eyes closed, hard cock on display for all the world to see.

  "I'll take the starting bid of five hundred." Avery's eyes snapped to the speaker, and his heart sank when he saw the Master. He hadn't bet on competition. Buying out Conrad's contract would be expensive enough; a pissing contest with the Master could bring the expenses up to more than he owned.

  It didn't matter: Conrad was worth it. He'd find a way. He'd take a loan from his father if he absolutely had to. Whatever it took.

  "Six hundred." Avery raised his bid number.

  "A thousand," the Master said, smirking.

  "Two thousand," Avery countered.

  "Ten thousand!" the Master yelled.

  Conrad

  Conrad opened his eyes and blinked, trying to process what he thought he'd seen.

  No. What he had seen. Avery stood at the back of the room, locked in a bidding war with the Master. His songful voice countered each bid the Master made, calm and restful as if he had all the money and patience in the world.

  Conrad actually smiled. He was still in danger. the Master's pockets had no limits, and he'd try to outbid Avery just to make him suffer, but knowing Avery had come to save him was worth more than anything in the whole world at that moment.

  Avery loved him. Avery hadn't just been a victim of Stockholm Syndrome, like he feared in his darkest moments. Avery had sought him out, tracked him down, and brought everything he owned in cash to save him.

  He started to cry, tears flowing from his eyes unbidden. He couldn't make them stop. Gratitude and love poured from him in great sobs.

  "A million." Avery's eyes locked with Conrad's, bluer than he remembered them. Conrad had never seen something so beautiful in his life.

  The rest of the room sat transfixed, wondering what drama went on behind the scenes that two men would bid so fiercely on an old slave. Conrad didn't have eyes for them, though. His gaze remained locked on Avery, fearful that if he looked away, Avery would give up bidding and let the Master take him.

  "Two million," the Master said. The crowd gasped. Members of the Master's entourage started to eye him warily. One tapped him on the shoulder, trying to tell him enough was enough, hadn't he humiliated Conrad to his satisfaction?

  "Three million." Avery's voice was clear and concise, never looking away from Conrad. Conrad couldn't believe it. Three million for him? The rest of the crowd seemed to find it as laughable as he did from the looks on their faces. All eyes seemed to turn to the Master. Conrad realized what was happening before the crowd knew it.

  He'd broken the code, the Circle rules that dictated value and attachment with his little vendetta, and he was being shunned for it. Members of the Master's entourage started to back up, eyeing him like a crazy old coot.

  "Four million," the Master proclaimed. He looked to his advisor, his expression suddenly uncertain.

  "Five million dollars," Avery finished. "I'll buy his contract too."

  The Master looked at Avery, his eyes wide. "You fucking idiot. That has to be your entire net worth. Ten times the asking price…You're saying this old man is worth fifty million dollars?"

  "That's right," Avery said. "Are you finished?"

  "Fucking take him, then," the Master scoffed. "You'll get bored of each other."

  "Not likely." Avery marched straight to the payment desk and laid down a black leather briefcase. He opened it, revealing more money than Conrad had ever seen. Conrad watched Avery hand the deposit over, shock rendering him unable to move or speak. Other slaves stared at him, wondering who he was to have someone willing to bid that much and then pay ten times more to buy his freedom.

  Conrad knew who he was: the luckiest guy in the world.

  Avery

  "Hold still." Avery passed the wand over Conrad's neck and the inert collar fell to the ground with a clang, freeing him from his bondage. Avery stamped on it, as if he could break it with force alone. Rage overwhelmed him. He'd come so close to not being able to afford Conrad's freedom. One more bid from the Master would have pushed him over the edge. His heart still pounded in his chest. He pulled Conrad close, holding him like he was the most precious person in the world. Conrad sobbed into his shoulder and Avery held him up as he slumped bonelessly. Avery was aware of the Circle members' penetrating gazes but unwilling to rush Conrad. He'd come along when he was good and ready.

  "Thank you," Conrad sobbed. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

  "You're welcome," Avery managed a weak smile.

  "Let's get out of here," Conrad said, recovering. He took his weight back onto his own two feet and Avery missed it, but Conrad was right. They were intruders in this world. Nothing good could come of lingering.

  Avery took his hand, not wanting to let Conrad out of his grasp for a moment.

  He waited until they were on the road to speak again. "They're all slaves, really. The buyers most of all."

  "What do you mean?" Conrad asked. He dried his eyes on his t-shirt.

  "They try to buy with money something that can't be paid for," Avery said. "Self-worth. It's the same reason people sign contracts in the first place. Wanting to be needed. To be loved. Wanting to feel like their lives have value. But that can't be bought. It has to be given. You gave that to me. You gave me my life back."

  "You spent fifty million dollars on me. We are more than even," Conrad said. "That was your inheritance, wasn't it?"

  "It's just paper. What I have with you is worth more than any amount of money."

  "Stop, stop, I can't handle the sugar rush. Not at my age." Conrad threw his head back and laughed. The hearty sound warmed Avery's blood. He wanted to ask what had happened during his time as a slave, but there would be time for heavy conversation later.

  Avery grinned. "I have a little bit left. Enough to buy your house back from the bank and make a few repairs. After that, we're on our own."

  "What happened when you went home, Ave? You seem…different."

  "Eight years and my brother's death. My father's a different man now. He bought out my share of the company, freeing me of my obligation to it. But it also means I can't ask him for anything from here on out. He's done his job as a father. I'm a man, now. I have to find my own path."

  "I'm sorry," Conrad said. "About your brother."

  "Danny died doing what he loved—chasing the same things I was after back then. He wanted to feel alive, just like I did. Dad blames himself, but I don't think that's true. I think it's just…we never knew struggle. We never learned how to fight for anything, and so nothing had value. Least of all ourselves." Avery shook his head.

  "There are other ways of finding meaning in your life than signing your life away to torture."

  "I know. I was too young and too stupid to know what I was looking for. All I knew was that I was lost, and I stayed lost for a long time. Until I met you. Conrad, I don't know how to say what I want to say. I've been up for thirty-six hours and I'm exhausted. I think it's along the lines of 'thank you'."

  "We should stop somewhere," Conrad suggested. "I could use a shower."

  "We need our meds," Avery said. "I took Dad's private jet to get here, but we're going to drive back. I've exhausted all my favors. It's just us, now."

  "Where is here, exactly?" Conrad asked.

  "Maine," Avery said.

  "Then we're definitely stopping. A few hours won't change all that much, and we're in no fit state to be driving anywhere. I need a shower to get this stink off me. That, and I need to feel you close. I need all this to sink in." Conrad smiled, fresh tears sparkling in his eyes. "I can't believe you broke the chain." He reached over and touched the pale skin of Avery's neck where the collar had left its mark. It would fade away, in time, but the scars he'd earned would always remain.

  Avery pulled off the highway into a roadside motel and shut the engine off, amazed at how he'd managed this mad dash when he hadn't driven in eight years and was scared to leave the confines of Conrad's home. Pure desperation, nothing more. Now it was wearing off and the sam
e old anxiety was pouring in. He closed his eyes and almost fell asleep right there, but Conrad's hand on his arm woke him. He looked into Conrad's eyes and relaxed. They were safe. Everything was going to be okay.

  "You take the lead, okay?" Avery said. "I'm too tired."

  "You got it," Conrad replied. He took Avery's hand and led him into the motel. An old man raised his eyebrows when he saw the two of them hand-in-hand but said nothing as Conrad took some crisp bills from Avery and laid them down on the counter.

  "Just one room, I take it?" The old man asked.

  "That's right," Conrad said, a hint of pride and defiance in his voice. He swiped the key off the counter and headed down the tiny hallway to the end room, number eight. He unlocked it and Avery was led inside, too tired to care about anything. He lay down on the bed. He was just going to close his eyes for a few moments…

  "I'll join you right after I take a shower," Conrad said, but Avery couldn't wait for him. Sleep was calling, and he fell into its comforting arms.

  Conrad

  The shower washed away the sweat and dark thoughts running through Conrad's mind. The memory of the slave who had tried to run, of sweaty, groping hands on his cock haunted him.

  He couldn't believe it was over. Fresh tears erupted in the shower. He was finished beating himself up for promises broken. He'd done right by Avery, and Avery had done more than right by him. If Christina received a portion of his sale price in commission for signing him, she was set for life. Abby was beyond his reach. He could stand to think about himself and his future, now. Whatever happened, happened. Him and Avery would deal with it together.

  Together, as equals.

  Conrad climbed out of the shower and toweled off. The clean towel felt like the most luxurious thing in the world after the van and the cage, and he reveled in the sensation of the cotton against his skin. He let it slip to the floor and walked back into their room to find Avery fast asleep, still fully clothed on top of the comforter. Avery had braved his own anxiety to reach him and given up his entire inheritance. For Conrad. It was still hard to wrap his mind around.