These Monstrous Deeds

by T. J. Hamel

  When Carter first feels sir’s hand come to the back of his head, he freezes. A soft whimper of fear escapes him as he prepares for pain. Sir’s hand is gentle, though. Firm, but gentle. He guides Carter until Carter’s head is resting on his left thigh. It feels so much better in that position, Carter exhaling as his body finally manages to relax. Things get even better when sir begins to run his fingers through Carter’s hair in a calming pattern, his voice filling the air from time to time as he talks with the other men seated at the table.

  It’s not long before Carter is blocking everything out again, focusing solely on the cock in his mouth and sir’s hand in his hair. Carter closes his eyes and deflates against sir’s thigh, giving in like sir had encouraged him to do the night before. It feels so good to just let go. To forget himself. To give himself over to sir.

  At some point, Carter starts to float. He loses himself.

  It’s such a goddamn relief.

  Part of Carter hopes he’s never forced to return.

  Chapter Eight

  Nathan is fully aware that he’s going easy on Carter. He prepped him well for the anal plug. He helped the boy get comfortable when he was warming Nathan’s cock, even stroking his hair to calm him. He’s making his men earn the opportunity to use Carter, whereas most bosses allow their men to use their slave as they please whenever the slave is not in use by the boss. Nathan doesn’t even plan on letting any of his men earn such an opportunity anyway, but if for some reason there’s a man who undeniably deserves the reward, he’ll only allow for something simple and quick. A blowjob, or some cock warming. He had even stopped one of his men from his inner circle playing with the boy’s plug.

  Clearly, Nathan isn’t going easy enough though. Carter was fucking crying. He’s still crying. Nathan’s not sure if Carter is even aware that he’s crying anymore. The boy is out of it, floating somewhere else, somewhere his mind deems safe, silent tears trailing down his cheeks as he keeps Nathan’s cock warm.

  Nathan is already going through his agenda for the day, trying to think of all the ways he can be kind to Carter without others noticing. Right now is perfect. No one can see under the tables besides the other slaves, and the other slaves won’t say anything. They’re probably not even paying attention, too wrapped up in pleasing their current masters instead.

  His day ahead is actually pretty calm. He only has one meeting. The rest of it can be spent in his office, alone with Carter. That’s good. Alone is good.

  “Master Roarke?” Nathan turns his head to look at the slave standing beside him. “Are you finished with your plate?”

  “Yes.”

  “More coffee, Master?”

  “Yes, and water.” Nathan pulls his hand away from Carter, suddenly feeling like a spotlight is on him. “Bring some food for my slave as well.”

  The slave nods, then looks up as a few other men around the table ask for the same thing. Some of them don’t. Apparently, their slaves aren’t being fed today. At least not breakfast. Nathan’s gut twists as usual, but he pastes on a smile and goes back to focusing on Carter. He starts moving his hand around, touching the boy’s neck, shoulder, tear-soaked cheek, gently coaxing him back to reality. It takes a small tug on his collar for Carter to fully return to him, the boy finally blinking up at Nathan just as a slave is placing a small plate in front of him. Nathan shifts his chair back enough to see Carter better, offering him what he hopes is a comforting smile.

  When Carter tries to chase him, clearly worried that Nathan’s cock fell out of his mouth, Nathan stops him with a gentle hand. Nathan tucks himself away to keep the boy’s attention off of his cock. He wants Carter to be able to focus on being taken care of, instead of focusing on taking care of Nathan.

  Nathan grabs a grape from the little plate of fruit in front of him. Carter’s eyes go wide when he sees it, lips parting in anticipation. Even the boy’s chest starts to rise and fall faster. It break’s Nathan’s heart. He knows Carter was probably wondering when he’d be fed next. After throwing everything up last night, he must be starved.

  Benny takes a seat in his designated chair to Nathan’s right, eyes darting down at Carter before quickly looking away. “Morning boss.”

  There’s so much said in those two words, a dark mass forming in Nathan’s chest as he hears them. Benny is trying to tell him it’s okay. He’s trying to offer comfort. It doesn’t help, though. It just makes Nathan feel worse.

  Why can’t Benny be the one that has to do this? Why couldn’t Benny have been the one to become boss? Why did it have to be Nathan? Why does Nathan have to be Carter’s personal monster?

  “What’s the plan today?” Benny asks casually, just like he would every morning.

  Nathan focuses back on Carter, feeding him a slice of banana next. “I have that meeting this afternoon. I need to make a few calls and send some emails.”

  “The exciting life of an international criminal.”

  “A lot more paperwork than they tell you about, that’s for sure,” Nathan jokes, winking at his friend. “Who knew all the fun stuff would be over once I got the big chair?”

  “Oh, come on, boss,” one of his men, Jason, calls from the left. “You have the fun stuff right between your legs. Ain’t that worth the paperwork alone?”

  Nathan maintains his smile as he reaches for a piece of strawberry. “You got me there, Jason. This little slave is worth all the paperwork.”

  Someone mumbles about him being a lucky bastard, but Nathan stays focused on Carter, their eyes locked as Carter parts his lips again. He takes the strawberry and carefully chews it, looking slightly confused when Nathan doesn’t pull his fingers away from his bottom lip this time. When Carter swallows, he tentatively parts his lips again. Nathan hums his approval and slips his two fingers into the boy’s mouth, sliding them along his tongue.

  “Suck them clean,” he says quietly, giving Carter an encouraging smile. The boy does as told, hopeful blue eyes staying on Nathan as he searches for approval. For praise.

  Praise. Nathan can do that. If it’ll help Carter through this, he can praise him. Plenty of men in this world praise their slaves. Hell, it’s a goddamn kink.

  “That’s it,” Nathan coos. “Good boy.”

  Carter melts, actually chasing the fingers for a second when they’re pulled away. He seems to come back to himself, realizing what he just did, and his cheeks go pink. He keeps his eyes on Nathan though. Wide. Innocent. Trusting.

  Nathan rewards him with a bite of bacon. Then some water, helping the boy take his drink since his hands are bound behind his back.

  Breakfast continues like this while Nathan listens to his men talk amongst themselves. The spirits in the house are high today, most likely because of Carter. Nathan doesn’t mind that. It’s just his men enjoying the reminder of how powerful their group is. Carter himself is more of an afterthought. He belongs to Nathan.

  Thank god they’re all respecting that.

  For now, at least.

  The next time Nathan feeds Carter a piece of strawberry, the boy sucks his fingers clean without being told. It makes Nathan’s cock hard and he has to swallow a groan.

  Nathan’s going to hell.

  He’s going to hell for fucking sure.

  ◆◆◆

  Carter spends his day waiting for the other shoe to drop. People keep touching him and keep talking about him, and he hasn’t walked on his feet since he left the bedroom, but things have been mild besides that. He kept sir’s cock warm at breakfast before getting hand fed by him, getting told how good he is the whole time. Then he crawled along with sir to sir’s huge office, where they’ve been ever since. Carter was brought to the bathroom twice, both times thankfully still to only pee. He was hand-fed a small lunch. He kept sir’s cock warm some more while sir did paperwork and spoke on the phone. A man came in at one point for what seemed like a laid back sort of meeting. He had called Carter a ‘stupid cocksucker.’ It had hurt to hear sir laugh at that, but Carter had chastised himse
lf for caring. Sir could be doing so much worse. Carter doesn’t understand why he hasn’t yet.

  At this point, they’ve been in sir’s office for the entire day, something Carter knows because someone just came in to announce that dinner is being served in 10 minutes. Yet, Carter still hasn’t been used except for his mouth to warm sir’s cock from time to time. He even dozed off for a while, his head on sir’s thigh like at breakfast, sir’s hand running through his hair as he did things on his computer.

  Dinner is much of the same. At one point, sir gets into a heated discussion with a few of the other men, something about baseball that leaves them all laughing after. It distracts them enough for most of the slaves to get bumped away, including Carter. He sits back on his folded legs and waits for sir to need him again, sir moving around as he talks far too much for his cock to stay in place.

  Taking a chance, Carter glances over at one of the slaves to his right. It’s a guy around his age with bright blonde hair and a collar similar to the one around his own neck. When he sees Carter looking, he gives Carter a sad but friendly smile. Carter returns it. Then the slave is being grabbed by the hair and brought back to his master’s cock. Before Carter can look around for any other slaves, sir is grabbing him too, though far more gently. He’s not brought to sir’s cock, either. Instead, he’s brought out from under the table as sir stands up.

  Carter tries not to show on his face that he’s disappointed he wasn’t fed dinner. He hangs his head just in case he can’t control his expression, hurrying along as he crawls behind sir towards a room he has yet to be in. Through a few peeks here and there, he gathers that it’s a sort of entertainment room. There’s a large leather couch as well as a few armchairs. Sir sits on the armchair in the center of the room, looking directly at the large TV mounted on the opposite wall.

  Someone turns a baseball game on. It’s not sir, since sir has a glass of what smells like scotch in one hand and Carter’s leash in the other. Since Carter is kneeling for sir, facing the man, he clearly can’t see the TV. He can only listen to the announcers and try to piece things together. He finds himself wondering if he’s still in the United States. It’s the MLB, but he’s sure those games are aired elsewhere. In fact, Carter’s not even sure if the MLB is only American or not. He’s never been into sports.

  Maison was always the athlete growing up. He played football, basketball, and baseball. Carter used to love coming to watch all his games, not because of the sports, but because he practically hero-worshipped his brother back then. Hell, he still hero-worships him.

  At least, he did, up until a few days ago. Now, he’s not so sure. His brother is clearly involved in some dark shit. He might not be much of a hero after all.

  Carter flinches when something touches his face before reminding himself to relax. He looks up to find sir watching him carefully, his big hand cupping Carter’s cheek. There’s something in the man’s gaze that Carter can’t quite place. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say it’s concern, but Carter knows much better than that.

  Sir’s lips part as if he wants to ask Carter something before they quickly seal back up. Carter watches as the man exhales heavily through his nose, the corner of his jaw twitching like he’s clenching his teeth. It feels like his eyes are searching Carter for something.

  “How’s his ass, boss?” someone from behind Carter asks.

  Sir’s entire presence changes in the blink of an eye, the man growing powerful and intimidating with an icy cold gaze and an evil grin. He doesn’t even look away from Carter when he answers, “Tight.”

  Carter’s face burns. He tries to look away, but sir’s hand slides down to grab both sides of his jaw, keeping him in place.

  “Still tight?” one of the men asks. “Haven’t fucked him enough then.”

  “Maybe I want to keep him tight.”

  “Have you at least fucked him today?”

  Sir’s jaw ticks, his fingers gripping Carter’s face hard enough to make him whimper. “Not yet. It’s been a busy day.”

  “Well, what’s a better time than when you’re relaxing and watching the game?”

  “Yeah, boss. Fuck him right here.”

  “Let us see what a little slut he is.”

  “Have I not provided enough slaves for you all to entertain yourselves?” sir asks, raising an eyebrow as his gaze finally leaves Carter to look at the men in the room. “I bought him for me, not you.”

  There’s a beat of silence. Then, “But none of us were at the auction last night. We need to see the show everyone else got to see.”

  “Besides,” someone else adds. “You gotta use him often.”

  “Yeah. Don’t want him getting too comfortable, right boss?”

  Sir’s teeth flash in a sinister smile. “Right.”

  Carter’s stomach twists and turns into something achy and painful. He doesn’t want to do this. He can’t do this. It being rape is bad enough. It being rape in front of people – people he can see because he doesn’t have a blindfold to hide behind this time – is even worse.

  He should have known it was coming.

  He did know it was coming.

  That doesn’t make it any easier when sir looks down at Carter and says, “Take your plug out and come up on my lap.”

  With a hand that shakes hard enough to hurt, Carter fumbles with his plug until it’s out of his hole. He holds it for a moment, confused about what he should do with it. Sir takes it from him and puts it on the table where his glass of scotch is now resting on a coaster. It looks obscene there, resting on the flat end, the bulb slick and glistening in the lamp light.

  Carter places his hands on sir’s thighs and hoists himself up, his entire body trembling now. He can’t meet sir’s gaze. Thankfully, sir doesn’t try to make him.

  Carter flinches when sir spits, looking down at sir’s hard cock with wide eyes as sir spits on it a second time. Sir rubs the pad of his thumb over his glistening cock head and Carter realizes that’s the lube he’s going to get. That, and whatever is left in his hole from this morning’s preparation. He’s stretched from the plug, but not nearly enough. Sir is fucking huge. Carter must have been out of it at the auction to take that thing as easily as he had.

  He doesn’t realize he’s hyperventilating until sir frames his face with both hands and pulls him in close, their foreheads touching.

  “Breathe,” sir says so softly Carter’s not sure if he imagined it. He smells spices and scotch as he follows the order and breathes the man in. He shudders beneath the weight of the oxygen, but sir whispers, “Good boy. Again.”

  Carter obeys. This time, it’s a little easier.

  “Again,” sir whispers.

  Carter feels light-headed with relief as the air he’s taking in finally registers in his system. His eyes flutter shut, his body relaxing in sir’s hold.

  A tap on sir’s shoulder catches Carter’s attention. He looks up to find the man from last night – Benny – standing beside the chair, a small packet of something in between two fingers. Sir’s eyes meet Benny’s for a moment, the two of them holding a surprisingly intense gaze. Then he takes the packet from him and puts the edge between his teeth, tearing it open. Carter realizes it’s lube when he sees sir rub a glob of it on his fingers. Sir adjusts his position in the chair slightly before threading his hand through the opening of Carter’s thighs and sliding two fingers easily inside of him.

  He’s going to prep Carter.

  Oh, thank god.

  The prep is different this time. It’s not clinical like this morning when he was prepping Carter for his plug, and it’s not bare minimum like the night before. This is right on the edge of foreplay, sir’s fingers focused less on stretching him and more on stroking his walls in ways that Carter hates to admit feels good.

  Sir tightens his grip on Carter’s hip and tilts him forward, the angle of his fingers shifting. His gaze is intense on Carter’s face as he crooks his fingers. One stroke. Two. Then Carter’s gasping, his body buck
ing forward. Sir found his prostate, and if his mischievous smirk is any indication, that was his goal.

  “Oh,” Carter breathes, not sure what to do with himself as sir works the sensitive spot over and over with his fingertips. He thinks he might be moving himself against sir’s hand now. Riding his fingers. He thinks maybe he can’t get himself to care. “Oh, oh.”

  “That’s it,” sir growls, his fingers speeding up, a third teasing the edge of Carter’s hole. “Feel good, pet?”

  The pet is a reminder, like ice water falling over Carter’s head. He gasps for a new reason, his body seeming to screech to a halt, his muscles tensing, his breath catching, his heart sinking. Tears burn his eyes. Sir catches his gaze, the fingers in his hole pausing. They stare at each other for a beat before sir’s eyes fall closed, a slow, controlled exhale pushing past his lips. The hand on Carter’s hip flexes once. Then sir looks at him with a far away gaze, his face suddenly devoid of emotion.

  The fingers in Carter’s hole are pulled out. Lube is squeezed from the packet onto sir’s cock. Then sir is speaking, his voice authoritative and icy. “Up.”

  Breath hitching again, Carter forces himself to lift up on his knees. Sir’s free hand holds the root of his cock to keep it steady for him, his other hand remaining on Carter’s hip in a bruising hold. Carter doesn’t look. He can’t look. He swallows a sob when he feels the head of sir’s cock press between his cheeks. Benny is standing behind sir, watching Carter with narrowed eyes. Carter looks away quickly, a tear falling down his cheek. He squeezes his eyes shut to keep any more from spilling.

  “No,” he whispers, more to himself than anyone else. Maybe he can convince his mind that this isn’t really happening. Maybe he can shut it off again. Float away. “No, no, no.”