These Monstrous Deeds

by T. J. Hamel

  Carter is making sir feel like this.

  Carter is pleasing sir, just by letting sir please him.

  Sir was right. Carter is lucky. He should be grateful.

  Taking a chance, Carter tilts his chin up and skates his lips across sir’s. He stares up at sir after, trying to gauge his reaction. Sir blinks once before his eyes fill with something dangerous. His hand leaves Carter’s throat and goes to his hair, taking a fistful to hold Carter in place against the mattress. Then sir fucking devours Carter’s mouth while his fingers drive Carter crazy.

  It’s not long at all before Carter is whining and begging, humping up against sir to try to get some relief for his aching, untouched cock. The fingers are too much inside him, yet not enough. Not nearly enough.

  “Please,” Carter gasps, bucking his hips unsteadily. “Please, sir!”

  “Please what?” sir asks in amusement.

  “Just – I don’t know.” Carter shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut. He thinks he knows what he wants, but he’ll never let himself ask for it. No way.

  Sir grinds their naked cocks together, chuckling against the shell of Carter’s ear when Carter moans. “Do you want me to make you feel good, sweetheart? Do you want me to show you how good it could be if you’d just let go for me?”

  Carter nods without meaning to, tears burning his eyes. If sir notices them, he doesn’t say.

  Using his obvious strength and size difference, sir easily maneuvers them on the bed until sir is sitting up against the headboard, Carter straddling his lap like he was earlier in the entertainment room.

  “Then ride me,” sir says in a low, growly voice. The man watches Carter with a heady expression. Carter gets a sick thrill out of it. “Make yourself come on my cock, sweetheart.”

  Shivering at the juxtaposition of the pet name with sir’s dark, dangerous voice, Carter lifts up and reaches back a hand to take sir’s cock. Sir keeps his hands on the mattress as he watches Carter do all the work. Hoping to take advantage of how aroused and pleased the man seems to be right now, Carter asks, “Can I spit on it first, sir?”

  “No.” Sir fists Carter’s hair and pushes him down so he’s at a sharp angle, his ass in the air and his mouth against the damp crease of sir’s groin. “But you can suck it first.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Carter whispers, meaning every ounce of it. He takes sir’s cock in his hand, allowing himself to admire it for just a second. It’s just as big as Carter had previously thought, but it has a sort of beauty to it. It’s not like those monstrous, veiny things you see in porn. It’s still velvet smooth, the head nearly purple even though sir just came a little while ago.

  When Carter licks sir for the first time, a part of him is almost sad when he realizes the man smells and tastes differently than usual. It’s the same spicy, woodsy, rum scent that he always has from his soap, but too strong. There’s none of his natural musk beneath it. None of the distinct things that make sir sir.

  Jesus, Carter, you’re fucked up.

  Carter shoves away the thought, deciding to analyze it after he gets his much-deserved orgasm. Or maybe never at all. Because sir is right, isn’t he? What the hell is the point?

  “Good boy.” Sir releases his grip on Carter’s hair, rubbing whorls into his abused scalp as Carter messily laps at his cock and balls. The praise feels so damn good that Carter moans. The pleased hum the sound earns him from sir erases nearly all guilt Carter feels at being so happy and turned on in the moment. Any leftover guilt gets shoved into the same spot his thoughts of Jesus, Carter, you’re fucked up were just shoved. No guilt is currently welcome. Especially not when sir continues to pet and praise him so nicely. “That’s it. Good. Good fucking boy. Now come ride my cock, sweetheart. Come show me how grateful you are. Make yourself feel good.”

  Desperate to show sir exactly that, Carter scrambles back up to straddle him. Sir holds his cock straight for Carter so all he has to do is sink down onto it. With his slobber all over the thing, it’s much easier to take. There’s still some pinching and burning, but it’s more pleasure than pain this time.

  Unable to help himself, Carter sighs happily when sir’s cock is fully seated inside him. It feels so different than before. He doesn’t know if it’s the preparation, or the lack of audience, or what, but he knows he’s going to take advantage of it in case it never feels like this again.

  The issue, of course, is that Carter has never done this. Hell, before sir, he was a virgin. He has no idea what he’s doing. None.

  Suddenly feeling clumsy and unsure, Carter tries to lift himself up. It’s much harder without sir guiding him like he had in the entertainment room. Carter’s hips stutter. He flinches when sir’s hands come to rest on his waist, but relaxes when he sees sir’s soft smile.

  “Put your hands on my shoulders.” Carter follows the order, already feeling better now that he has something to hold. “Good boy.”

  When sir tugs at his hips, Carter lifts with him. It’s still awkward, clumsy, but each roll of Carter’s hips against sir gets easier. His movements grow steadier. Slow. Even. Wanting to impress sir, to show how grateful he is, Carter tightens his grip on sir’s shoulders and picks up the pace. It makes sir smile. A nice smile. Not mocking or dangerous. Warm. Kind. Fond.

  Sir’s hands leave Carter’s hips, fingertips trailing along his bare skin as Carter moves more confidently. He makes Carter shiver when he touches the inside of his thighs. He makes him gasp when he thumbs his nipples. He makes him throw his head back and moan when he fondles his cock and balls.

  “Look how hard you are,” sir rasps. Carter can’t help but notice how affected sir sounds by that, as if sir really is turned on even more because Carter is enjoying this. He doesn’t know what that means.

  He doesn’t care.

  Sir starts to stroke Carter’s cock in time with his thrusts. His body feels strung out and ready to burst any second as he slams himself down on sir’s cock the best he can, hoping like hell he’s doing it right. It all feels amazing to Carter at least, and sir is still smiling, still looking at him with eyes soaked in lust.

  A heady feeling takes over Carter’s body, urging him closer to the edge. His movements go erratic as he gives into the pure instinct to chase his orgasm. He can hear the noises he’s making, can feel the desperation in each push and pull, but Carter refuses to feel bad about any of it. Not yet. Not right now.

  “Is my good boy going to come?” sir asks in a knowing voice.

  Carter nods rapidly. “Y-yes, sir. Fuck. So good, sir.”

  “Good boys ask for permission to come.” Sir grips the base of Carter’s cock with one hand and uses his other hand to keep Carter from lifting off his lap. “Your orgasms are mine. You don’t get to choose when you have them.”

  “Please!” Carter whines pathetically, trying to move against sir’s hold. “Please. Please. Please.”

  “Please what?”

  “P – please, sir?”

  “Please sir, what?”

  Carter hangs his head, tears of frustration burning his eyes. A sob racks through his chest. “I – I – don’t – I – siiiiiir…”

  “Shhh. Calm down.” Sir releases Carter’s cock, bringing his hand up to nudge beneath Carter’s chin. When their eyes meet, sir asks, “What do you want to do, sweetheart?”

  “Wanna come, sir.”

  Sir nods, one eyebrow raised. “So, ask.”

  “Oh!” Carter perks up. “Please can I come, sir?”

  The smile sir gives him is brilliant. Breathtaking. “You can come once I’ve filled your hole. Deal?”

  “Deal!” Carter grabs sir’s shoulders, riding him again with a newfound enthusiasm. Sir leans back against the headboard, hands lazily settled on Carter’s hips, dark blonde hair mussed, eyes half-closed, tongue darting out to lick along his bottom lip. He looks so damn sexy that Carter almost forgets who he is. Almost forgets what he’s done.

  He forgets enough to enjoy himself.

  He forgets enough to
lose himself in the moment.

  He forgets enough to pant and moan and throw his head back. To fall forward and press his mouth to sir’s collarbone, lips grazing his sweaty skin, the taste of him salty and familiar on Carter’s tongue.

  Sir’s fingers dig into his ass cheeks, holding Carter steady as he begins to piston his hips upward. Carter clings to sir, every thrust feeling like the breath is being punched out of him. He’s dizzy with need and so fucking close to coming. He squeezes his eyes shut, willing sir to fill him soon before he disobeys.

  Within seconds, sir’s movements are going erratic. He buries his face in Carter’s neck and growls, “Holy shit,” sounding absolutely wrecked. Then he’s holding Carter down and grinding up against him, his cock pulsing as it fills Carter.

  Carter whines and squirms, trying to find the mental capacity to speak real words.

  Sir doesn’t make him ask. He just whispers, “Come for me, sweetheart,” peppering Carter’s neck and shoulder with little kisses after. Carter wraps himself tighter around sir and rubs his cock against sir’s belly. Once, twice, and he’s falling apart.

  Sir holds Carter for a long time after. He strokes Carter’s bare back and tells him how good of a boy he is. He kisses Carter’s cheeks and neck and shoulders. Holds him close. Cleans him with gentle hands.

  At some point, sir lays them down. He pulls Carter into his chest and holds him close. Gives him his stuffed moose. Kisses his forehead. Tells him he’s a good boy. Whispers goodnight. Falls asleep.

  Then Carter is crashing down, reality swallowing him whole.

  Oh god, what has he done?

  What the fuck has Carter done?

  Chapter Ten

  Nathan wakes up feeling ten times better than the day before. The overwhelming guilt in his chest is just a little lighter, making it easier to breathe.

  Maybe he can do this after all. Maybe he can keep Carter safe and keep him somewhat happy. Just like Maison had suggested, Nathan can pretend to be falling in love. He can give Carter gentle and kind as often as he can. He can make this life bearable for the sweet boy.

  He rolls over on the bed, a smile on his face, only to find the mattress empty where Carter should be. Nathan pushes up on one hand and scans the room before his eyes fall on the door to the bathroom. It’s open, the light turned off.

  “Fuck.” Nathan shoves off the bed and stumbles towards the bathroom, praying the boy is in there with the lights off for some reason. He flips the switch to turn the light on, checking the shower, the tub, the cabinets beneath the sink. Nothing. “Fuck.”

  He gets desperate. He checks the corners of the bedroom. Behind the lounge chair. Beneath the fucking lounge chair. He rifles through the chest of blankets. He –

  The closet.

  “Oh god, please,” he mutters to himself as he heads to the obvious place where he’s hoping Carter went to hide. His heart pounds in his chest as he tries to keep his hopes down. As he tries to keep his fear down.

  If Carter isn’t in the closet, he doesn’t know what-

  Nathan deflates in relief.

  There he is. His boy. Curled up on the floor of Nathan’s huge ass walk-in closet, one of Nathan’s dress shirts draped over him like a blanket. The tiny stuffed moose is tucked beneath his chin.

  He leans against the doorframe and tries to pull himself together. This needs to be punished. Nathan knows that. It’s a rule. Carter broke a rule.

  Why?

  Why the fuck would he do that? Why the fuck is he making Nathan punish him? Wasn’t last night fucking good for him?

  Nathan asks himself what the true Nathan would do. The character he’s built over the years. The monster. He hates the answer. He can’t do that.

  But he has to do something. Carter broke a rule. If Nathan lets that slide, he’s going to break more. Nathan can’t risk giving him too much rope to hang himself with. Especially if he hangs himself in front of an audience.

  It’s best he learns his lesson now.

  One harsh punishment to make it stick, then they’ll be done with this. The boy won’t disobey again. He’ll be safe.

  How fucked up is it that Nathan has to hurt him to keep him safe?

  Growling in frustration, Nathan pushes off the doorframe and walks forward, stepping into the Nathan mindset as he does so. He rips his shirt off Carter, the action startling the boy awake. Nathan doesn’t give him time to understand what’s happening, grabbing his small biceps and lifting him to his feet. Carter cries out, eyes shooting wide open as Nathan presses him against the nearest wall.

  He should have slammed him against it.

  This boy has made him weak.

  “I-”

  “Shut. Up.” Fisting one hand in Carter’s hair, Nathan uses the other to clamp down on Carter’s throat. He squeezes at just the right angle to cut off Carter’s air completely. He sees the moment Carter realizes it. The moment he tries to breathe and can’t. His pretty blue eyes go wide, terror flashing in them. “You fucked up. Big time. Are you a fucking idiot? Did you not process the very clear, very fucking simple rules I gave you? Or did you disobey me on purpose?”

  Nathan eases his grip just enough for Carter to suck in air. The boy coughs and sputters, crying out when Nathan tugs his hair sharply. “You can answer now, slave.”

  “I – I – I didn’t – I couldn’t-”

  “Stop fucking stuttering,” Nathan growls, pulling at Carter’s hair again. “Answer the question. Are you an idiot, or are you disobedient?”

  “D-disobedient, sir,” he rasps, tears filling his pretty blue eyes. “Sor-”

  Nathan squeezes his throat again, cutting off his words. “I have no interest in your apologies. None. I gave you a good fucking night, and you did this? Are you fucking kidding me?”

  Carter shakes his head the best he can, tears spilling over his cheeks. Travis tries to peek out from behind the curtain Nathan uses to hide him. Travis wants to hold Carter close. To kiss him better. To whisper that it’s okay, that he understands, that he knows Carter probably just got too overwhelmed, or scared, or confused, and he ran.

  Nathan strangles Travis until he passes out, rolling his lifeless body back behind the curtain. Travis is going to get all of them killed if he’s not careful. If he had his way, they’d be dead in a week.

  Nathan meets Carter’s eyes, making sure his gaze is cold. “Kneel.”

  The boy obeys. He’s trembling with terror, his breathing ragged and panicked, but Nathan ignores it. Ignores him. It hurts more than he thought it would. He turns his back to hide his face in case he’s not masking the emotion well enough.

  Keeping his back to the boy, Nathan methodically dresses himself. His mind races with possible punishments. He needs something that will be bad enough to keep Carter from breaking the rules again, but something that’s not so bad the boy will break. The paddle, maybe. Or a cane. Nathan probably won’t be able to fuck him after hurting him, even if he medicates himself, so he’ll have to do it beforehand. Maybe just a blowjob. A rough one. Then a swift punishment to bring the issue to a close.

  Nathan opens his top drawer and slides his hand beneath a folded pair of underwear, grabbing the little container that holds his blue pills. He pops one in his mouth and swallows it dry. When he turns, he finds Carter on his knees with his upper body curled inward as if he’s trying to make himself smaller. His hand is pressed over his mouth as he muffles his hysterical sobs.

  He’s fucking terrified.

  Nathan can’t do this.

  Nathan has to do this.

  He clips Carter’s leash onto the ring of his collar and tugs once, the movement sharp but not painful. The boy gasps and rocks up onto his hands and knees, preparing to crawl. He’s already struggling to keep himself in the proper position, his muscles jerking, his arms going weak.

  Nathan should yell at him to hurry the fuck up. To get his shit together. Maybe even smack a hand against his ass. It’s what the other men here would do.

  Instead, Nat
han squats down and carefully maneuvers the boy until he’s in a position where Nathan can fold him over his right shoulder. He feels Carter’s hands immediately grab the back of his suit jacket, his body trembling furiously against him. Each tremor makes Nathan ache like they’re his own.

  “Let go of my jacket,” Nathan says quietly. His throat feels tight. He swallows hard. “I won’t drop you. Let go.”

  There’s the slightest hesitation, but then the boy obeys.

  People know what’s going on when they set eyes on the two of them. Nathan can see it in the way they look at Carter. Some of them, the softer ones, cringe and look away. Any slaves that accidentally get a peek immediately bow their head and let their eyes flutter closed in shared grief. The others – the men like Nathan – love it. They smirk. Laugh. Make comments.

  “Oh no,” one of his men coos. Jason. An asshole. He sing-songs his next words like a student teasing another for getting called to the principal’s office. “Someone’s in trouble.”

  Nathan just grunts in response as he takes his seat at the table and manhandles Carter down his body and onto the floor. The boy hits his head on the edge of the table, crying out in pain. Nathan immediately grabs him, cradling his face in his hands as he stares into his eyes. The words are you okay, sweetheart? stick to the tip of his tongue. He chokes them down and lets go of the boy, digging his fingernails into his palms to keep from reaching for him again.

  “Get my cock in your mouth,” he growls, not because he’s mad but because his voice is rough, his throat closing in on itself.

  Carter obeys, his shaking hands quickly opening Nathan’s pants and pulling out his soft cock. The pill hasn’t kicked in, but it won’t be much longer. “You’re not keeping me warm today. Get me hard.”

  The boy’s eyes flutter closed for just a second before he looks at Nathan’s cock in resignation. His hands spread across Nathan’s thighs in an attempt to get a better angle. Nathan should probably smack his hands away and tell Carter he’s not allowed to touch him, but there’s no way in hell he’ll be able to manage something like that right now. He makes up for his weakness by grabbing Carter’s hair in a slightly too-tight grip, using his other hand to guide his hardening cock between the boy’s lips.