by T. J. Hamel
The man sighs like he’s disappointed before pressing his thumb down on the opposite shoulder. He nods when Carter whimpers.
“Would you like to try that again?” he asks, one eyebrow raised in a dangerous challenge. “Do your shoulders hurt?”
Shit. Now he’s going to get in trouble for lying.
“Y-yes…” Carter trails off without using a title for the man. They were taught to use Master for whoever purchased them, the guards warning that they would not like what happened to them if they didn’t, but Carter is willing to take the risk. It’s a small defiance. A way to fight back without winding up dead. Or worse…
“Don’t lie to me again. I can’t take care of you properly if you lie to me.”
Carter nods, dropping his chin in shame. He made the man upset. The man was being kind to him, gentle even, and Carter disappointed him. Why does that hurt so much?
The car comes to a stop just before the driver announces, “We’re here.” Carter peeks out the tinted windows to see that they’re parked in the farthest corner of a McDonalds parking lot. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Carter will be staying in the vehicle while Benny goes for the food. He’s not getting a chance to even get close enough to speak to anyone.
“What would you like to eat?” the man who bought him asks softly, hand nudging Carter’s chin until their eyes meet.
“I-” Carter stops himself, cowering. He doesn’t know the correct answer. Is there a correct answer? Will he give his order only to have Benny return with no food for him, the men laughing at Carter for being so fucking stupid? Will he bring the food back but then make Carter beg like he’d said before? Will Carter have to do something even worse than beg to earn it?
The man – Roarke? Is it Roarke? – leans forward and takes Carter’s face in his hands. Carter stares up at him in fear, holding his breath. “It’s not a game. Not a test. I told you to tell me the truth, remember? Just tell me the truth, sweetheart. What would you like to eat?”
The man had said earlier that he didn’t repeat himself, yet he just did. Carter wonders when he’ll be punished for that. He wonders if this man is the kind to punish right away, or when you least expect it. He wonders if his punishment will be requesting food only for the man to deny him.
But Carter is so fucking hungry. He refuses to miss the chance to eat. “May I have some – some chicken nuggets, please?”
“Absolutely.” The man’s smile is proud. Carter doesn’t know what to do with that. “Do you want dipping sauce?”
Carter can’t help but just blink at the man. Dipping sauce? Did his rapist just ask him if he’d like dipping sauce with his chicken nuggets from fucking McDonalds?
“No,” Carter says incredulously. Then he remembers to soften his tone and adds, “Thank you.”
The man looks up at Benny, who has been listening the entire time. “Get him a water and apple slices, too.”
“Apple slices?” Benny scoffs.
“Yeah, asshole. They have them for the kid meals. Don’t you pay attention?”
“Do I look like I have a fucking kid?”
“No, you’re right. That’s just me when I have to deal with you.”
“Fuck off.” Benny flips the man off. Carter wonders if they’re friends. They must be. Maybe even brothers. He can’t see any other way that Benny would be able to speak that way to his boss.
Then again, Carter knows nothing about this world. He’s just a college student turned pleasure slave. Perhaps bosses in this fucked up alternate reality don’t demand respect from their employees.
“Cup of ice as well,” the man says with an amused smirk, clearly not upset with the way Benny is speaking to him.
“Aye, aye, Captain,” Benny grumbles before slamming the door shut.
Any interest Carter had during the interaction goes out the window the moment he realizes he’s now locked in the vehicle completely alone with his new owner. He tentatively looks at the man. When their eyes meet, the man gives him a startlingly warm smile. It doesn’t match what he says next. “Come here, sweetheart. Straddle my lap.”
Suddenly feeling braver now that he’s not outnumbered, Carter stays where he is and asks, “Why?”
The man raises an eyebrow, looking caught between anger and amusement. “Because I said so.”
“You think just because you’re rich that you have the right to buy human beings like fucking property? That you can order them around and fucking rape them?” Carter growls, filled with a sudden outrage at this entire situation. It feels good. Much better than the terror or grief of the past.
But then the man’s amusement wins over, and he smirks at Carter, and Carter is immediately regretting the outburst. “Yes.”
“Y-yes?”
“Yes,” the man says again. “I do believe because I am rich that I can buy human beings like fucking property. That I can order them around and fucking rape them. Though, it takes much more than money, of course. One needs connections. Respect. Power. A man like me can have anything he wants, sweetheart. Anything in this goddamn world. The sooner you give into that reality, the easier this will all be.”
“All be for who? Me or you?”
“You. I’ll enjoy taking the hard way with you if that’s what you choose, but I can guarantee that you will not feel the same.” The man’s smirk turns positively wicked. “I bet you’ll be beautiful when I finally beat this defiance out of you, though.”
Carter can practically hear Casey screaming in his head, panicked and angry. He’s doing everything he shouldn’t. This man gave him a blanket, didn’t hurt him when he tried escaping, and is getting him food. And what is Carter doing? Giving him the proverbial middle finger. He should be complying right now. Behaving. Biding his time.
“Final warning,” the man says in a hauntingly calm voice.
Any fight left in Carter dissolves. He starts to move forward, trying to avoid touching the man as much as possible. The man doesn’t have the same qualms. His hands immediately find Carter’s naked hips, maneuvering him until he’s settled exactly where the man wants him to be. Every spot where the man touches Carter feels like fire on his skin. Part of him worries that he’ll look down to find the man’s fingerprints seared into him like some sick sort of brand.
Carter’s face goes red hot when the man cradles his caged cock and balls like they’re nothing more than a semi-interesting piece of decoration. He skims a thumb along the curved plastic. “How long have they had this on you?”
“I – I’m not sure.” Carter clears his throat, trying to think. He doesn’t want the man to be upset. He wants to be able to give him something at least. “It wasn’t too long ago, I don’t think…”
“How do you figure?”
“I haven’t been given water since it happened. So, it couldn’t have been that long, right?”
The man’s expression goes dark. Carter’s breath catches, his shoulders curling forward as he realizes he said something wrong. He doesn’t know what. He was just being honest. The man had said to be honest.
Carter waits for the man to scold him or hurt him. Instead, the man just sighs. “Right. Not too long at all. I believe it’s time we remove it, though. What do you think?”
Before Carter can even worry it’s a trick question, he’s nodding. “Yes, please.”
“Hold still, then.” The man reaches into his breast pocket, pulling out a small silver key. He shifts Carter’s caged cock before sliding the key into the little slot and turning it. Carter sighs in relief when he hears the soft click. The man is surprisingly careful as he guides the first plastic piece off Carter’s cock. Carter watches in both fascination and horror as the man continues disassembling it, wondering how many of these the man has handled. Probably a few if the ease of which he slides little rods and twists tiny screws is any indication. As they’re removed, the pieces of the cage are tossed to the side without care, a fragile hope fluttering in Carter’s chest that this man doesn’t plan on putting him in the
cage again. Heart pounding, he watches as the man does the final step, pulling the plastic ring around his balls apart and twisting it. The end catches on Carter’s sack, pulling at the sensitive skin. He accidentally whimpers, his hips jerking to show his dislike of the situation.
“I know, sweetheart.” The man gently takes Carter’s balls in his hand, massaging them. He’s extra careful around any of the places where there are indents in the skin from past abuse. It feels good. Humiliatingly good. Carter closes his eyes to keep from having to watch. It thankfully only lasts a few more seconds before the man is letting him go and giving the next order. “Now lay flat with your stomach on the seat beside me, your head by the door, your ass in my lap.”
Swallowing hard, Carter moves into the position as directed. It makes his sensitive cock and balls rub against the man’s expensive pants. Carter bites his lip to make any sounds of pain or pleasure, hating his body for betraying him as he feels his cock fill from the simple stimulation.
The man grabs each ass cheek in a gentle but firm grip. Carter cries out before quickly hiding his face in both fear and embarrassment. One of the man’s hands comes up to stroke along his spine. “I’m not going to hurt you, sweetheart. Don’t you see? When you behave, I’ll take such good care of you. It’s when you forget your place that things will hurt. Understood?”
“Yes…”
“Yes, sir,” the man corrects.
Carter squeezes his eyes shut to stave off the tears threatening to fall. “Yes… sir.”
“Good. Now, hold still. I just need to make sure there wasn’t any damage done earlier.”
Doing as told, Carter focuses solely on his breathing. It works for a few seconds, but then he’s losing control again, his body trembling as the man spreads his cheeks to reveal his hole. It’s impossible to stay calm then. Flashes of being back on that stage, back on that bench, restrained, terrified, raped by this very man holding him, assault his mind until he’s gasping for air.
The man hushes him, his hand gentle and soothing as it returns to rubbing Carter’s back. But the other hand is prodding at Carter’s sore hole, clearly about to remove the anal plug there, and Carter can’t focus on anything else. At least the man doesn’t yell at him for his reactions. He just sighs in frustration and removes the plug, working quickly and efficiently as he checks Carter out. It takes an eternity before the man finally hums softly and tells Carter he can kneel again. Carter slides off the seat in relief, settling himself between the man’s legs like before. He can feel lube and cum trickling out of his hole and onto the feet he has tucked beneath him. He curls in on himself until he’s a tight little ball. It helps slow his heart rate, his breaths coming easier.
“Your hole is going to be fine. And it seems that your shoulders are thankfully not dislocated. They’ll be sore for a while, of course. We’ll keep an eye on them. I’m concerned about your head, but with all that you’ve been through, I doubt we’ll be able to watch you for any signs of concussion. Your poor body is already too out of whack.” The man grabs the blanket from before and drapes it carefully over Carter’s shoulders, not making a comment about his fetal position. “We need to set some rules now.”
Feeling pried open and vulnerable, Carter grips the edges of the blanket and wraps it tightly around himself, leaving only his face free as he clasps his fabric-covered hands together. He pretends it’s someone else holding his hand. Casey, maybe. Maison. His mom. God, Carter would do anything to have five minutes with his mom right now. He’d curl up in her lap like when he was little, letting her play with his hair as she sings him a lullaby.
“Don’t cry,” the man says quietly, lifting a hand to Carter’s face. Carter flinches before sagging in relief when he realizes all the man is doing is wiping a tear from his cheek. He hadn’t realized he started crying again. He starts and stops so often lately. “I’m not going to hurt you, sweetheart. Not if you’re good.”
The man pauses.
Then, “Nod if you understand me.”
Carter nods.
The man sits back, spreading his legs a little wider as he peers down at Carter. Carter can’t help but feel exposed, even covered in the blanket like he is. He wonders if this is how those bugs felt when he pinned them to a board for his junior year biology project. This is the wings. This is the abdomen. This is the thorax.
Carter wonders what labels he would be given. This is the no longer virgin asshole. This is the bleeding lips. This is the hungry stomach.
“Hey.” Carter startles, his thoughts coming back to the present. To the vehicle. To sir. He looks up at the man, prepared to be yelled at for zoning out. Instead, he finds the man just frowning at him in concern. “Just three easy rules for now, okay? I can see how tired you are. You’ll be able to rest soon, once we get something in that stomach of yours. Okay?”
“Yes, sir,” Carter whispers.
This is the confusing man who buys sex slaves but treats them kindly.
This is the sad boy so starved for touch he just might beg the man for more of it.
“Rule number 1. You’ll call me sir. Always. Any other name will result in punishment, understood?” Carter nods. “Use your words, sweetheart.”
Carter shudders, hating how much he loves that damn pet name. It makes him feel too good. Too… un-slave like. “I understand. Always call you sir. Anything else will get me in trouble... sir.”
“Good.” The man – sir – tilts his head and studies Carter for a moment. He seems to be considering something. Then, “Rule number 2. You’ll always be kneeling unless explicitly told otherwise or physically moved by me. The most important part of this is the by me. If someone else, anyone else, tries to change your position verbally or physically, you are not to listen. Ever. Your body belongs to me, and me alone. I say what it’s doing. Always. Understood?”
A heavy weight tugs at Carter’s gut, but he forces himself to nod and say, “Yes, sir.”
“Repeat the rule to me.”
“I should always be kneeling unless you want me to do something else.” Carter grips his hands tight enough to make them ache. “And only you can tell me to do something else, sir.”
“And why is that?”
“Uh. Um.” Carter’s heart starts to race, sir’s words replaying in his mind. “Because my – my body belongs to you, sir.”
“Good. Rule number 3. You will obey me, always, and without hesitation. Understood?”
“Yes, sir. I will always obey you without hesitation.”
Sir smiles softly and nods. “Yes. Good. Just like with the second rule, you will not obey anyone but me, either. Not a single person. You won’t be disrespectful, of course, but you won’t obey them when given commands. You won’t stand. You won’t kneel. You won’t strip. You most certainly will not engage in any sort of physical contact – especially sexual. You are mine. Mine. Is that understood?”
Carter shivers, his stomach twisting in a strangely… warm sort of way at the words. “Yes, sir. I’m yours.”
“Mmm. I like that. Say it again.”
“I’m yours, sir.”
“Yes. Yes, you are. All mine. And I’m going to take such good care of you.” Sir reaches down and tilts Carter’s chin up, then runs the pad of his thumb along Carter’s bottom lip. When Carter gives into instinct and opens his mouth for him, sir’s expression darkens. He sounds nearly breathless when he says, “Good boy.”
The front car door opens, catching them both off guard. Sir looks up at Benny, dropping his hand, but Carter continues staring at sir. He’s trying to process the way his body just began to melt for the man who raped and purchased him like an object.
Surely, he’s only feeling the things he’s feeling because the man is showing him kindness. After the terrifying and lonely past few weeks, he’s just trying to soak up any sort of comfort he can get before he’s hurt again. That must be a normal human reaction, right? He’s not fucked up. This experience hasn’t fucked him up.
Right?
&nbs
p; Right.
He’s perfectly normal.
And, if Carter sort of likes the way sir hand feeds him small bites of food, and the way sir smiles when he offers Carter the plushie moose backpack clip that came with his kid’s meal, and the way sir cradles him to his chest and holds the cup of ice to his forehead, and the way sir whispers praise to him for being good, then that’s normal too.
Totally, perfectly, definitely normal.
Chapter Five
The plane ride home on Nathan’s private jet is nearly 13 hours long. Carter sleeps the entire time, passed out on the king bed in the rear cabin. He had lasted less than five minutes after his stomach had been full, the boy falling asleep in Nathan’s arms as Nathan held ice to his head wound and told him how good he was. He hadn’t even stirred when Nathan carried him from the SUV to the plane, nor when Nathan placed him in the bed and pulled the blankets over his fragile body. Besides two bathroom breaks, Nathan spent the entire flight sitting in the leather desk chair in the corner, either watching over the boy or dozing.
Carter still doesn’t wake up after they’ve arrived at the Roarke compound, Nathan once again carrying him as they travel from the plane to Nathan’s private entrance. Nathan looks at Benny in concern. “Should we be worried about a concussion?”
“Why? You gonna take him to the hospital?”
“Don’t be an ass.”
“He’ll be okay. Kid probably hasn’t slept in weeks. It probably feels fucking good to be warm. Fed. His body is just soaking up every ounce of rest it can get.”
Nathan nods, thankful for the reassurance. He likes how peaceful Carter is right now. Knowing he’s safe makes it even better.
Benny enters Nathan’s door code and opens it for him. Nathan rests his shoulder against it to keep it from closing. “We’ll be good for the night. You get some rest, man.”
“You too, Nate. Seriously. Sleep.”
All Nathan does is grunt. Benny accepts it, disappearing down the private hall and leaving Nathan alone with his new pleasure slave. He places the boy on his massive bed and covers him with his blanket from the plane, smiling when he catches sight of the tiny stuffed moose Carter has yet to let go of since Nathan gave it to him. After waiting a full minute to make sure Carter doesn’t wake up, Nathan puts in the codes to lock his doors from the inside, flipping the manual locks after. Then he heads into his attached bathroom.