Slave For Rent

by Samantha Cayto

  “Call Danny.”

  The ringing reverberated through the truck. Each time, he silently willed his boy to pick up. Eventually it went to the automated voicemail. “Danny, it’s Paul. Please call me, baby. I’m worried about you. I’m not mad and hope you’re not, either.” He hung up, afraid he’d said too little or too much. Even more, he was afraid Danny couldn’t even pick up the message.

  ****

  “That’s a pretty little girl you’ve got there.” The desk clerk at the motel licked his lips and leered at Danny.

  Danny lowered his gaze in order to keep from rolling his eyes. God, if he weren’t so scared, he’d find the whole situation laughable. For whatever sick reason, Fahey lapped up the observation, chuckling.

  “She sure is. We’re going to spend the night having us a little party.”

  The weight of the backpack Fahey had forced Danny to carry irritated his shoulder. Fahey had stopped to pick up a twelve-pack of beer and had managed to cram it into the small bag instead of the larger duffle bag the man had hauled in himself. Nothing the guy had done since grabbing Danny made any sense. They were checking into a shitty motel along the highway. If Fahey truly owned Danny, surely he’d have taken him back to whatever Fahey called home. Danny was convinced he’d been stolen by the man.

  That belief had been cemented by the two times his phone had vibrated against his cock. Thank God he always kept the ringer off and with Fahey having cranked the radio up, the small sound couldn’t be heard. Only one person in the world had that number. Paul calling him had to mean he’d returned home, found Danny missing and was trying to find out where he was. No other scenario made sense. Knowing Paul was looking for him gave Danny a sense of peace. As horrible as being with Fahey had been and would likely become even worse, somehow Paul would find and save him. Danny just had to wait for the right moment to be able to text him with his location. He hoped that moment came soon.

  “Come on, slut.”

  Danny ignored the clerk’s tittering. Fahey could call Danny any demeaning thing he wanted. They were just words. Words couldn’t hurt, every slave knew that. He had to pick his battles, or more like he couldn’t wage one at all. If he riled Fahey up too much, the man could and might go so far as to kill him. In the last hour or so, the maniacal way Fahey had taunted him with everything he was going to do to Danny, coupled with too fast driving, led Danny to believe the guy wasn’t rational. Regardless, he’d proven to be dangerous, and that meant Danny had to appease him until Paul arrived.

  They climbed the outside steps to the second floor of rooms. Danny committed to memory the room number before Fahey yanked him in by his leash. That number and the name of the motel were the two pieces of information he had to text to Paul without Fahey catching him. So far, he wasn’t sure how or when he’d have a chance to do it, but he had to figure it out. Paul couldn’t be Danny’s savior on his own. Danny also had to help himself.

  With another strong tug of the leash, Fahey had him next to the king sized bed. Fahey kicked the door shut and dumped his duffle bag on the floor. Next he unhooked the fucking leash and grabbed the backpack off Danny’s shoulder. The liberation from both items gave Danny a chance to stretch his aching body and put a couple of feet between him and the freeman. He grimaced when Fahey tore open the pack of beer and popped the top of one. The last thing the situation needed was more alcohol. Regardless, Fahey chugged half the can before huffing in delight and grinning at Danny.

  “Nothing like a cold one on a warm day.” Fahey’s grin widened in a feral way and he prowled over to Danny.

  Danny stuttered in panic when Fahey snaked a hand under Danny’s skirt. Thank God the man only squeezed Danny’s ass before letting him go. He hadn’t detected the phone. Then, again, Danny’s ass was probably the only thing down there Fahey had any interest in.

  “I like how easy it is to get to the good stuff when you wear girl clothes,” Fahey leered before taking another swig of his beer. “But I don’t like the boy panties. Take them off.”

  Stunned at the command, Danny hesitated. His frantic brain worked to figure out how to take his underwear off without having the phone drop. Fortunately Fahey turned away and walked toward the bathroom.

  “I’m going to take a quick shower before we get down to the night’s festivities.” He stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Don’t you dare think about leaving. You try and I’ll just have to haul you back. That will really piss me off, and I’ll take you tomorrow to have you de-balled. I hear it makes slave boys docile, and God knows they’re not what I want you for. You hear me, cunt?”

  Danny nodded. “Yes, Master.”

  With a grunt, Fahey disappeared into the tiny bathroom. He didn’t shut the door the whole way, but as soon as Danny heard the shower go on, he moved to strip off his underwear. He caught the phone before it hit the floor and with shaky fingers, texted the name of the motel and room number to Paul. Once he hit send, he powered it off and shoved it under the bed. He hoped like hell that Fahey wouldn’t stumble upon it down there and if he did, he’d think it had been left by someone else. No one gave slaves phones, anyway. No one except a guy like Paul and if he had given Danny up to Fahey, wouldn’t he have mentioned the phone to the other man in order to make sure it got left behind?

  No, Paul hadn’t cut Danny loose and Master Ben hadn’t given him to the supervisor, either. Danny had to believe in both of those men and the logic of his own mind. Paul probably knew already that Danny was missing. He might not have realized Fahey had him, yet Danny had to hold onto the hope that Paul was at least looking for him. Paul should have seen the text by now and would understand that whatever was going on, that’s the place he’d find his slave. Danny just had to hold on.

  He sat gingerly on the side of the bed, wishing that the sound of the shower wouldn’t end. Once it did, Fahey would no doubt continue what he’d started in the house. Danny cringed at the idea of what it would be like to be fucked by that man.

  Please, Paul. Please hurry.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Paul raced up the front stoop of the duplex and simultaneously banged on the front door and rang the bell. Then he did it again, and would have done it a third time if Ben hadn’t stopped him.

  “No sense in riling the guy up any more than he is,” Ben said when Paul shot him a frustrated glare.

  Although he could see the logic in what Ben said, Paul still wanted to beat on the door and scream at the fucker to open up. In the last hour, it had become obvious to Paul that Fahey had Danny. It was the best explanation of why the slave had up and disappeared. Even if Danny had still been mad at Paul, he wouldn’t have left home for no reason. He hadn’t gone to see his father at the lumberyard, wasn’t at the Tanner home and hadn’t contacted Oliver. Danny wasn’t stupid. There was no place for a slave to run, especially without money and the proper papers for travelling. Of course Fahey should have understood he couldn’t get away with stealing a slave. The idea that he’d done it anyway gave Paul extra dread. Fahey wasn’t acting rationally, which put Danny at greater risk.

  Paul banged on the door again. “Fahey, open up!”

  “He’s not home.”

  Paul and Ben turned to stare at a young woman trudging up the stoop with a bag of groceries in one arm and a toddler in the other. Ben met her half-way and held out his hand for the bag.

  “Here, let me help you,” he said with a smile.

  The woman yielded up her burden gratefully. “Thanks.” She stepped over to the other unit to insert her key in the lock.

  “You know Fahey’s out?” Paul prodded, trying not to show his impatience.

  The woman pushed open her door and set the child down. “Yeah, I saw him leave a few hours ago when I left to take my kid to a mommy and me play class. We’re not exactly friendly, but he seemed like he was going away for a long weekend or something.”

  Ben passed her the bag when she held her arms out. “What makes you think that?”

  Paul’s phone be
eped, indicating he had a text coming in. With one ear on the conversation next to him, he pulled out his phone and looked at it.

  “He had a duffle bag with him.”

  Paul heard the woman’s response, but his attention became riveted on the text. It had come from Danny and it contained a name, Pinecrest Motel, and a room number, 207. Holy shit, the kid had managed to message his location. Shoving the phone back into his pocket, he grabbed Ben by the arm.

  “Thanks, ma’am,” he called out as he dragged his friend down the steps.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Danny texted me. I know where he is.”

  Ben jumped into the truck. “Jesus, is he okay?”

  Paul grimaced as he started up the truck. “I don’t know. He only told me where he is. I’m not going to try to contact him because I bet he’s hiding the phone from Fahey. It’s the only explanation that makes sense. Look up Pinecrest Motel, would you?”

  Without knowing where to go, Paul couldn’t pull out. He gripped the wheel with a white-knuckled tightness, tamping down his impatience. He pushed images out of his mind about what Danny might be going through. Fahey had him at a motel. It didn’t take any imagination to figure what the guy intended. He could only hope he’d get to them before Fahey hurt his boy too badly.

  “Got it. Route 1. Head north.”

  Paul put the truck into gear and peeled off.

  ****

  Fahey sauntered out of the bathroom, whistling off-tune and drying himself with a towel. He grinned at Danny, who sat nervously still on the edge of the bed. “Now, the fun really begins, baby.”

  Danny averted his gaze, seething at the use of Paul’s endearment by this hideous man. Danny was Paul’s baby and no one else’s. No matter what Fahey did to him in the next few minutes or hours or days—however long it took Paul to find him—Danny would only ever be Paul’s baby. He just hoped his master would still want him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He couldn’t think that way. Paul was a fair man and none of this was Danny’s fault. At least he didn’t think it was. He couldn’t have stopped Fahey from taking him. Look what had happened to his father for standing up to the man.

  When he opened his eyes again, he saw Fahey take something from his backpack and place it on the scarred bureau. Danny watched as the man turned on the lamp and tossed the shade aside, the exposed bulb shedding a harsh light. Next he dumped powder on the surface and started chopping at it with a credit card. Danny knew very little about drugs, but he recognized that was what Fahey had. Too soon, the man had snorted up the lines of white powder. With a final sniff and a swipe of the residue that he sucked off his finger, Fahey turned to Danny.

  “Get your ass over here, cunt.” Fahey’s tone was almost cheerful. His cock grew hard and upright in front of Danny’s eyes. Fear made him hesitate. “Don’t make me come get you or this will be so much worse.” Fahey looked gleeful at the prospect.

  Danny forced his body up, and then put one foot in front of the other. He could survive this, whatever happened. He wouldn’t die, and Paul would be there soon. He had to believe that. With an unsteady pace despite his resolve, he put himself within Fahey’s reach. The man’s hand shot out and grabbing Danny, he tossed him against the bureau. Danny’s stomach hit the hard edge, driving the air out of his lungs with a grunt. Fahey’s hand reached under Danny’s skirt again, although this time it landed on bare flesh.

  “Well, at least you know how to follow orders. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.” The fingers roamed around Danny’s ass, squeezing and pinching. “You still need a lesson. I’m going to give you at least one a day until your attitude adjusts to my liking.”

  That was all the warning Danny got before that hand landed the first blow.

  ****

  Paul shoved his phone in the motel clerk’s face. “This is a picture of the slave boy we’re looking for. He would have come in with a man who may or may not have called himself Fahey. They checked into room 207.”

  The slovenly, older man chewed his mouthful of sandwich before answering. “I guess I know who you’re talking about, except I’m not sure the guy had a boy with him.” His toothy grin showed mashed up white bread between his crooked teeth. “More like a girl, if you ask me.”

  “What the hell does that mean?” Paul practically yelled.

  The man shrugged. “I mean the slave wore a slutty crop top and a mini skirt. Real pretty.”

  Paul’s brain threatened to explode. He was wasting valuable time talking to the clerk, yet hoped in doing so, he’d get a way into the room without alerting Fahey to his arrival. “Forget the clothes.” Shoving the phone back up, he added, “Is this the face of the slave?”

  The clerk shrugged. “Yeah, looks like. I didn’t really think it was a girl. No tits. What’s it to you anyway?”

  Paul pulled back the phone and replaced it with his own face leaning into the clerk’s. “That slave is mine. Give me a key card to that room, and I may consider not suing you for aiding and abetting the theft of my property.”

  God, he hated talking about Danny in such dehumanizing terms, but it was the only thing a guy like this would understand. The clerk backed up, holding his hands out in surrender.

  “Look, I don’t want any trouble.” Reaching down, he pulled up a white electronic key then ran it through the gizmo that coded the plastic to a particular room. “Here. This will get you in. I don’t want you busting down the door anyway.”

  Paul snatched it from his hands. “Don’t call and warn him we’re coming.”

  Again, the clerk held out his hands. “I don’t have a dog in this fight.”

  With what he hoped was a menacing look, Paul ran out of the office.

  ****

  Danny clamped his lips together to hold back the cries desperate to escape. Fahey had said the more noise he made, the longer the beating would continue. Danny’s ass already burned, the product of the vicious blows from Fahey’s hands. Thank God the man hadn’t used a belt, but that was probably only because he hadn’t been wearing one. His large hand did the job well enough, sending shockwaves of pain each time it connected with Danny’s flesh. Danny grunted and twisted with a particularly hard blow that sent a chain of agony up Danny’s spine and into the base of his skull.

  He couldn’t keep silent on that one. “Please!”

  Fahey palmed the enflamed skin and squeezed. “Please, what, slut?”

  “Please, Master. I’m sorry.” He wanted to add a plea for the man to just stop, but figured that would be too insolent. A slave didn’t beg for punishment to stop, only to be forgiven. He hated showing such weakness to this loathsome man, yet couldn’t help himself.

  Fahey dug his nails in, ripping another cry from Danny. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

  He let go anyway and walked away. Danny didn’t dare move and waited with mounting fear for the man to return. When he did, Danny could see out of the corner of his eye that Fahey had slipped on a condom. Shit, the reprieve had been short-lived. Fahey shifted to stand directly behind Danny before putting both his hands on either side of Danny’s ass cheeks. His fingers dug in once more as they lifted and separated, exposing Danny’s hole.

  “I’m going to have to suit up for the game until I have a doctor check you out. Who knows what a slut like you might have picked up,” Fahey sneered.

  Danny closed his eyes, knowing what was coming next. He took in a deep breath to brace himself for the invasion. Nothing could have prepared him, though, for the searing pain of Fahey’s cock shoving inside him. Without preparation or lube, there wasn’t the mild burn of being slowly stretched, or the subtle pleasure of being filled. This was raw and brutal, a tearing through of his tender entrance to deliver a torturous abrading on his insides. Danny screamed and lurched forward as if there were anywhere to go to escape the assault.

  Fahey’s fingers gripped him more tightly while he plunged all the way in. He trapped Danny against the bureau and let go with one hand. Before Danny had time to w
onder what the man intended to do, the collar around Danny’s neck tightened with a tension that didn’t let up. Fahey was pulling on the D ring, had to be. Danny gagged and clawed at the chain with both hands.

  “This ought to shut you the fuck up, cunt. I told you not to make any noise. Don’t want to disturb our neighbors now, do we?” He emphasized his words by pulling his dick back, then thrusting it in again to the hilt.

  Danny’s attention shifted rapidly from the painful fucking to the dangerous choking. He tried to lessen the tension by digging a finger around the chain. Fahey’s pulling allowed no slack. Danny couldn’t get any air in, his throat was completely blocked off. He flailed around in mounting panic. Tears started streaming down his face. He tried to croak out a plea, but no sound could get out, either. Spots popped up in front of him as his vision dimmed. And still, Fahey kept drilling Danny into the bureau, using the collar as almost like reins.

  Danny was going to die. Paul wouldn’t get to him in time, and Fahey, that asshole, would win. With the last of his strength draining, Danny made a bid to save himself. He flung his hand out and grabbing the lamp, swung it up and back. The impact with something reverberated up his arm. A yell, not his own, filled the room. Then the world spun as Danny got pulled backward and down. He landed in a heap right on top of Fahey’s sprawled body.

  ****

  Paul tore up the steps when he heard a scream. Panic had him frantically waving the key card at the electronic lock when all he wanted to do was kick the door down. As soon as the light turned green, he threw open the door…and his heart stopped beating for a second while he took in the scene before him.

  A tear-streaked Danny lying with a skirt rucked up to his waist, his back plastered against a naked and unconscious Fahey, who sported a gash on his forehead that bled into the carpet. Danny’s fingers were curled around a short, metal lamp with a busted bulb. A splattering of shiny wetness could be seen on the base. Paul’s mind processed the tableau in the time it took his heart to resume beating. Then he sprang into action.