by T. J. Hamel
Sir ignores him.
Everyone does.
“Down,” sir orders. He brings his free hand up to grab Carter’s other hip, fingers digging bruises as he nudges Carter down an inch or two on his cock. “Come on. You can do it, pet.”
It’s almost worse, being made to do it like this. It feels like Carter is raping himself. Carter swears he can feel bile crawling up his throat.
A sharp smack against his ass cheek startles a sob out of Carter. His body jerks with the power of it, more sobs welling up in his chest like a queue of grief. He’s spanked again.
“Don’t touch my property!” sir growls, startling Carter more than the hits had. He’s even more startled by the meaning of the words. Sir isn’t who hit him. It was one of sir’s men. And sir is… mad about it.
Carter doesn’t know what to make of that.
“Just trying to hurry the boy up for ya, boss.”
“Are you indicating that I can’t handle my slave myself?”
“N-no, sir,” a man says from somewhere behind Carter. “Not at all!”
“Good.” Sir levels Carter with a gaze that leaves no
room for argument, anger flashing in his
eyes. “My men are right, though, pet. You are testing my patience. I suggest you stop.”
Carter forces himself to obey, lowering himself onto the massive cock waiting for him. He whimpers when it seems to catch after another inch or so. The prep wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.
One of sir’s hands on his hips comes up to cradle the back of Carter’s neck. Sir pulls him in close until his face is pressed against the side of sir’s throat, his lips dragging along the shell of Carter’s ear. His breathing is ragged, as if he’s the one getting fucked. There’s a chance his hand is trembling slightly against Carter’s hip, but there’s also a chance that Carter has just gone crazy and is imagining things.
“I’ve got you,” sir whispers. “It’s alright, sweetheart. Just breathe. You’re alright.”
Carter grits his teeth to keep from snapping that he’s not alright, he’s being fucking raped. The cock trying to push into his ass is too big, and the men in this room are too cruel, and all of this is too much, and Carter is being fucked raped, and nothing is alright.
A sob falls from Carter’s lips, the skin of sir’s throat muffling the sound. It doesn’t seem to upset sir. The man just continues to hold Carter close, one hand on the back of his neck, the other moving down to his left ass cheek to pull at it. The shift is enough to ease the way for sir’s cock, allowing it to finally bottom out, but Carter burns in shame when the room erupts at what he’s sure is a lude view of his hole. Another sob is released against sir’s skin. Sir holds him tighter, not in a punishing way, but in a grounding way.
By the time sir is settled, Carter is slick with sweat and shivering uncontrollably. He refuses to open his eyes even though his face is still hidden in sir’s neck. He doesn’t move, either. He just sits in place and waits for instructions. The last thing he’s going to do is start fucking himself on sir’s cock before he’s forced to. No fucking way.
Surprisingly, sir doesn’t tell him to do anything. He just uses his hand on Carter’s ass cheek to slowly lift him up until his cock is an inch or so inside of him before using the hand on Carter’s neck to slowly push him back down it. Carter’s body is moved like that over and over, sir’s hips rolling every few seconds to meet him halfway. He whispers to Carter the whole time, telling him to breathe, telling him he’s going to be okay, telling him he’s so good, such a very good boy, taking his cock so fucking well.
In between praise, the man breathes ragged and heavy in Carter’s ear. The sound is sinful and dirty, and Carter hates himself for thinking it’s hot. He hates himself for the tiny part in the back of his mind that thinks that this would be good, if Carter had given his consent, if they didn’t have an audience, if sir saw him as human.
“Come on, sweetheart,” sir pants, the words quiet as if they’re a secret between them. “Ride me. Make yourself feel good on sir’s cock.”
Carter doesn’t want to, but sir is being nice, and he thinks it’s better to listen so sir keeps being nice. Tentatively, Carter begins to rock back against sir, moving with him in the slow, steady pace that sir has set. It does start to feel a little good, Carter’s cock twitching, but it’s not enough to make up for everything else that’s wrong with the situation.
When sir looks down to find Carter barely hard, he glances up to meet Carter’s eyes. Another tear falls down Carter’s cheek on accident. He winces when he sees the way sir’s expression shutters.
Sir closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, almost like he’s steeling himself. When he opens them again, Carter wants to scramble away. He swears there are monsters in the man’s eyes now. Monsters that want to eat Carter alive.
Sir stands abruptly, cock slipping out of Carter’s ass as he moves. He ignores the way Carter cries out in shock, just tossing Carter over the arm of the chair they were in a moment ago and yanking him by the hips so his ass is at a nearly impossible angle. He shoves into Carter again, hard and fast. Each sound Carter makes is loud and wrecked and the men in the room love it. Carter barely registers them, though. He’s too focused on sir’s cock, the man fucking into him like an animal now. Or, more accurately, like Carter is an animal.
A pet.
Or something else. Something worse. Something inanimate and there solely for sir’s pleasure.
A toy.
Carter buries his face in the crook of his arm, starting to feel his mind going numb as he realizes that’s exactly what he is. What he’s become. Just a thing for sir’s pleasure. A thing for all of these men to laugh at. To maybe fuck, if they earn it. He’s a trophy. An object.
He’s not even Carter anymore.
Not even human.
He’s just sir’s.
Sir’s… nothing.
Nothing at all.
It’s almost a relief, to be nothing.
Carter’s not sure he’ll ever forgive himself for that.
Chapter Nine
Nathan nearly loses it when Carter goes quiet. He knows it’s bad when they stop making noise. When they stop reacting. It means they’ve been broken. None of the slaves around here cry anymore, having gone empty a long time ago. They just let things happen to them now. It’s what Nathan had told Carter to do last night. He said to give in. To just give up.
He hadn’t fucking meant it, though.
He had hoped that flipping Carter over like this would make things easier for the boy. Carter wouldn’t have to look at his rapist. He wouldn’t have to fuck himself on his rapist’s cock. Instead, it seems to have made things worse.
Nathan has to squeeze his eyes shut and focus on the pleasure of a tight hole around his cock. He plays his fantasy scenario out from this morning. The reason Carter is so quiet is because he’s sleepy. They just woke up. When Nathan finishes, Carter is going to roll over with a lazy grin and say, “That’s a great way to start a morning.”
Picturing that grin, Nathan finally reaches his orgasm. He holds Carter steady as he spills inside the boy, allowing himself one more moment of pretend before he opens his eyes and faces reality.
Carter is limp against the chair, his lips slightly parted as he takes deep, even breaths. His pretty blue eyes are glazed over and empty as he stares at the back of the chair without seeming to really see it. When Nathan pulls out of him, Carter doesn’t even react. It’s the same when Nathan pushes the anal plug back into his hole. He just stays loose and quiet, allowing himself to be moved around like a ragdoll.
The game is finally starting, an audience cheering on the TV. Nathan can’t register it. He can’t focus. Not on the game. Not on his men. Not on the persona he’s made for himself.
Nathan finds Benny, meeting his eyes. He shakes his head once. Benny nods in understanding. “Sorry to ruin the fun, boss, but that thing we discussed this morning? I got an update on it.”
Relief blooms
in Nathan’s chest. Enough for him to fake a dramatic sigh and turn to face his men. “I suppose this is where I leave you boys, then. Hope you enjoyed the show.”
It’s not rare for Nathan to be swept away for important matters. They’re all used to it by now. A few of his men playfully boo, but then they’re all thanking him and wishing him a very happy night, all winking and smirking and nudge-nudging each other like teenage boys.
Nathan can’t get himself to respond to them. He just turns his back and gets the fuck out of the room on his jelly-like legs.
Benny doesn’t say a word. He just walks beside Nathan to his personal wing of the house and stops right before his door, turning to give him a concerned look. They don’t know what Carter can hear right now, so all Nathan can do is nod to acknowledge his friend’s help. Benny gives him a tight smile and nods back.
Nathan can’t get into his bedroom fast enough. He puts Carter on the edge of the bed, making sure he can sit up on his own, then hurries away to begin the lockdown procedures for the night. Acid bubbles in his stomach, getting worse as each second passes instead of better. Nathan’s legs nearly give out as he sweeps across his suite to the bathroom, his fingers fumbling with the lock on the door. He manages to turn the faucet on to hide any sound before falling to his knees and heaving into the toilet.
He can’t do this.
God, how did he ever fucking think he’d be able to do this?
The sounds Carter had made echo in his mind as his stomach twists violently, threatening him with another round of vomiting. He had thought he could help him. He had thought he could make things semi-pleasant for the boy. Nathan had played with his prostate, loving each gasp and whimper that fell from the boy’s lips. Loving the way his eyes had hooded with arousal. Loving the way the tip of his cock had beaded with precum. But then something had happened, and the boy no longer wanted it. So, Nathan got on with the show, wanting it to be over as soon as possible. Just when he thought he had managed to help Carter get back to that partially-pleasurable state, he had looked up to find the boy crying.
Should he not try to make him feel good? That doesn’t feel… right. The least Nathan can do is give the boy some pleasure, some relief, some fucking human contact that doesn’t end in pain.
He’s going to have to do that again. He’s going to end up raping this boy again.
Nathan vomits, his muscles jerking in protest. He heaves again and again until they go dry. Then he gives himself 10 seconds to rest his head in his hands and throw a personal pity party before forcing himself to his feet. He gargles mouthwash while spraying bleach onto the toilet, then flushes the toilet and spits into the sink. He splashes cool water on his face before wiping it with a towel.
Then Nathan reminds himself that he is not the victim in this situation, he’s the monster, and he shuts his feelings down to go tend to Carter instead.
Carter is sitting exactly where he was placed before, his toes grazing the floor, his shoulders curled inward, his eyes staring at the wall without seeming to see it. His face has dried tears streaked across it. There’s the slightest tremble to his muscles, only noticeable if you’re studying him as carefully as Nathan is.
“How about a bath?” Nathan suggests as he carefully scoops the boy into his arms and carries him into the bathroom. Carter doesn’t answer. It could be because he didn’t hear Nathan. Or because he’s lost the ability to speak. Or because he knows it’s not really his decision so he’s not going to bother giving his opinion. All perfectly valid, Nathan supposes.
He sits Carter on the counter and unclips his leash. The boy just blinks slowly at him.
“The best thing about this bathroom is the tub.” Nathan swallows hard. “Have you seen it? It’s huge. You’ll love it.”
Carter just stares at him. Or, more accurately, he just stares right through him.
“Okay,” Nathan whispers, more to himself than anything. He shrugs out of his jacket and rolls up his sleeves before kneeling on the marble steps in front of the large whirlpool tub. He turns the water on and chooses the crystal bottle full of what he hopes will be the most relaxing bath oil out of the ones he has. After, he grabs the long lighter on the shelf nearby and begins lighting candles, first the ones around the tub, then the others throughout the bathroom. Lastly, he puts two towels on the towel warmer. Then he heads back to Carter.
The boy has been watching him the whole time, his eyes quickly darting away when he’s caught. It’s progress. At least Carter is in the moment now. At least he’s reacting.
Nathan guides Carter off the counter, placing him on his feet. Carter’s hands tentatively come to rest on Nathan’s broad chest, his fingers pressing gently against the fabric of his dress shirt. He peeks up at Nathan through his lashes before looking down. It’s adorable, and it’s heartbreaking, and Nathan hates himself.
With a hand on the small of his back, Nathan leads Carter over to the tub. He helps him set his hands on one of the steps before gently pushing between his shoulder blades until Carter is bent over. Carter starts shaking again. Nathan strokes his bare hip, trying to calm him. “I’m not going to hurt you, sweetheart. I’m just removing your plug.”
Carter hangs his head between his shoulders, looking defeated. He stops shaking so hard, but he still whimpers when Nathan’s fingers close around the flared end of the toy. Nathan tries to be as fast and clinical as he can without hurting him. When it’s removed, he tosses it in the sink to be dealt with later and tells Carter he can stand up.
Nathan tries very hard not to be distracted by the way his cum slowly slides out of Carter’s hole and down his leg. Very, very hard.
He clears his throat. Twice. “Do you need to use the bathroom?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Go on, then.” Nathan walks over to the tub and checks the water, turning it up a notch in temperature. He keeps his back to Carter, pretending he couldn’t care less about him in an attempt to give him some privacy. The rule about the bathroom door remaining open wasn’t something Nathan really thought through when he made it, but he can’t do anything about that now. Going back on his rules will just undermine his authority, no matter how stupid or inconvenient the rules are.
Deciding that he’s probably had his back turned long enough, Nathan pivots on his foot and faces Carter again. The boy is in the middle of wiping his ass, his face beet red even though he’s not looking at Nathan. He flushes while still sitting down, not standing until the toilet is finished running and he’s sure the toilet bowl is empty. When he finally looks at Nathan again, his eyes are glazed with unshed tears, his cheeks still pink.
“Undress me, sweetheart,” Nathan says. “Just like last night.”
Silently, Carter steps forward and sinks to the floor. He winces when the marble digs into his knees, his hands trembling as they work the laces of Nathan’s shoes. Following the same order as Nathan instructed the previous night, he works his way through Nathan’s clothing. He needs help with Nathan’s tie, his hands fumbling with the knot, but he handles the rest perfectly. When he reaches Nathan’s briefs this time, he barely even hesitates before hooking his fingers into the waistband and guiding them down Nathan’s legs.
When Nathan is standing naked in front of him, Carter’s chin lifts up, his pretty blue eyes looking at Nathan in both fear and curiosity. Nathan can’t help but give into temptation. Just for a second. Just one single second.
Nathan reaches down and pulls Carter to his feet, cupping the sides of the boy’s face and leaning in before he can come to his senses. Carter gasps into the kiss, his body tensing. The reaction only lasts for a moment before Carter’s melting against him, his small hands clinging to his shoulders, the front of his naked body pressing harder against Nathan’s. He starts to move his lips in excitement, almost taking over. Nathan makes sure not to allow a complete shift in control, needing to maintain the illusion that he’s in charge, but he lets Carter push further than he probably should. He knows the boy must be overjoyed by the int
imacy.
He knows that he is at least.
Nathan forces himself to break the kiss sooner than he’d like. He has to press a hand to Carter’s chest after, stopping the boy from chasing him. Carter sways in front of him, flushed and panting, his pupils blow with lust.
“I can make you feel good,” Nathan says breathlessly. “I want to make you feel good. If you just let me, just trust me, you can feel good too. This doesn’t have to be hell for you.”
“It’s still rape,” Carter whispers. He steps back and wraps his arms around his waist, not looking at Nathan. “If you’re trying to make yourself feel less guilty, then give it up. I don’t care if you manage to get me hard or make me come. It’s still rape.”
Nathan feels bile burning his throat again. He swallows hard. “I know. It’s not about that. I don’t feel guilty. I’m not a good man. But I wasn’t lying before. I don’t want to hurt you. That’s why you only have a few simple rules instead of a long ass list that will set you up for failure. That’s why I try to help you relax when I use you. I don’t get off on causing pain. I get off on control.”
“So, you want to control my pleasure?” Carter snaps, his eyes shooting daggers at Nathan. A burst of relief ignites in Nathan’s chest. There he is. Nathan didn’t lose him after all. “Because controlling every other aspect of my life, down to when I get to take a shit or eat a fucking meal, isn’t enough for you?”
Nathan shouldn’t let this slide. He needs to shut it down. Remind him of his place. Mildly threaten him.
Instead, Nathan looks him in the eye, being as honest as he’s allowed to be. “I’m not going to stop using you. I’m not going to get bored of you. I can get off without you feeling pleasure, you’ve seen evidence of that. Is it my favorite way? No. But that really doesn’t matter much. So, you fighting this? That’s not hurting me. That’s not sticking it to me somehow. That’s not you gaining some illusion of control. That’s just you being a fucking idiot by making your life as a slave miserable instead of bearable.”