Chapter Text
Jared had been on the run for weeks, picking through trash bins, shoplifting at the village market, and scavenging gardens for food. He’d huddled under bridges and in abandoned buildings for shelter at night. He’d been hungry and tired and close to hopeless when his luck had run out.
He was emerging from dilapidated shed he’d slept in when a loop tightened around his neck. Two black-hooded Catchers held the long pole attached to the loop. Jared knew that struggling was useless, but panic set in. He’d clawed at the loop around his neck and tried to use his height to pull the pole from their hands.
Catchers were terrifying in their silent, faceless anonymity. He saw the third Catcher for an instant from the corner of his eye – shadow moving quickly in and then the jab of a needle.
Jared awoke on a bed of straw. His clothes were gone and the prickly bedding seemed to have crept into every intimate crease and fold of skin. Light from a tiny barred window high on the wall revealed that a sturdy board gate secured his cell. The floor was stone as was one wall. The others were made of heavy wood planks reinforced with iron bands. The pen he was confined in looked like nothing more than an animal stall. That’s all he was now.
Jared had had just six weeks after losing his job before being declared indigent. Of course, his savings had run out, and he had no real property. He knew the next step, and he’d run.
With the rise of the new regime, the unemployed, disabled, elderly or otherwise “unproductive” members of society were deemed no better than animals and were treated as such. Just as animals were not allowed to run stray in the streets, those without the proper employment documents were taken into custody, given health checks, and then sold at auction to the highest bidder.
Some, called Menials, were put into domestic service or other service industries. Drudges were chosen for their physical strength and stamina to work on farms, in factories or other physically demanding tasks. Few of them lived long as the conditions were harsh and there were always new Drudges to be had. And then there were Stomas. Sometimes called meat or tools, if they were owned by women, Stoma were used for sexual release by their owners or whomever their owners lent or rented them to.
Given his size and strength, youth and general good health, Jared was relatively sure he’d be designated a Drudge as they were always needed. Menials were easy to come by, and he wasn’t pretty or small enough to be a Stoma.
He itched all over from the straw, and his bladder ached. His attempts to roll over were hindered by his right wrist being cuffed by a short length of chain to the wall beside him. He struggled to his knees and rested a moment. His head still felt woozy from the drug he’d been injected with. Using the chain to help pull himself to his feet, he leaned a hand against the side of the stall. Even without the feeble light from the window, he’d have been able to find the stinking bucket nearby to relieve himself into.
He was just shaking the drops of piss from his cock when the stall door creaked open and four hooded Handlers rushed in and surrounded him. Struggle was out of the question as hands grabbed his arms, a cuff was locked around his left wrist and chained to his right. A thick leather collar was placed around his neck. A bit was forced between his teeth and secured with a leather strap behind his head. He was jerked forward by a length of rope attached to the collar. Still dizzy from the drug, he went to his knees just outside the stall, but was dragged to his feet and down the corridor.
Taken into a room with wet brick floors, his cuffs were secured over a hook, which hung from the ceiling. Two washer women, probably slaves themselves, doused him with cold water. One began to scrub him down with a coarse brush while the other washed his hair.
“Fine piece of flesh this one,” the heavy-set one said. She had gray hair wrapped in a red and white checked rag. Her hands were red from hours in frigid water and soap.
“That it is,” the other agreed. This one was tall and gaunt. Her dark hair was caught in a knot at the back of her head. “Even in the cold, it don’t shrink up to nothing.” She laughed. Rubbing the soap between her hands to build up a lather, she grasped Jared’s cock and gave it a couple strokes. He felt a flush rise in his cheeks. She continued to stroke his cock as she palmed his balls, lathering them up. He let his head fall back and stared at the ceiling. He tried to will himself to not get hard, but he couldn’t stop it.
The women laughed as the other grasped his ass cheeks and kneaded them. “Enjoy yerself now, sweetheart,” the older wench said. “Soon enough you’ll be in the quarry breakin’ rock sixteen hours a day or down at the foundry cookin’ the skin off yer bones.”
“They give ‘em salt peter, they do,” the other said. “We may not be much to look at, but a callous hand is better than a limp dick.” She was still stroking his cock and rolling his balls in her hand. He couldn’t prevent himself from responding. His balls were heavy, the tension growing, when the tip of a finger slipped into the crack of his ass. He tipped his hips forward in an attempt to get away, but it followed. As his balls drew up, the finger pushed inside him, rubbed over some sensitive place, and he came.
He hung helplessly from the chains, hips jerking forward, fucking into the washer’s hand while that wicked finger continued rubbing inside him until he was practically whimpering at the stimulation. A soapy hand came up and caressed his cheek. “There now, sweetheart,” the woman whispered as though they were lovers. “You’re going to be auctioned today. That’s your first lesson.”
A dozen expletives crowded his mind, but the bit prevented him from doing anything more than growl in annoyance. Anyway, why abuse other slaves over his embarrassment? The woman was right. It wasn’t his body anymore. He had no say in how it would be treated. They rinsed him down in icy water and dried him off.
“It’s a shame to see a beautiful man taken off for drudgery,” the elder said.
“Ain’t it a crime?” the other said. “Couldn’t trust a bull like this to be a Stoma though, eh?”
“Lordy, no,” she answered with a shake of her plaid-covered head. He could kill with that great club of his.” They both set to cackling at that.
“Ah, look at him blush now,” the tall one said. She patted his ass. “And here’s the Handlers. On your way.”
There were just two Handlers this time. They led him to a room across the hall where young Groomers waited with combs and razors and bottles of oil. One combed the tangles from his hair while the other loosened the strap to the bit.
“I’m going to remove this, but don’t speak,” she said. At least Jared thought it was a girl. She was young and smooth cheeked with long dark hair pulled back in a braid. She wore a plain shift that showed she was flat-chested. She appeared genderless. He wondered at that. He nodded, and she took the bit from his mouth. She shaved his face as the other began rubbing oil onto his skin starting at his ankles and rising up his legs.
When his shave was complete, the bit was returned to his mouth and secured. His barber joined the other Groomer in oiling his skin. He was slightly worried that he’d get another erection, but these slaves were so quick and light with their touch that his cock barely twitched.
They were just finishing up when the Handlers returned. “Just about ready,” the Groomer said. She raised her eyes to Jared’s.
No, he thought, it’s a boy. A lovely boy.
“Such a shame,” the Groomer said.
The Handlers grabbed his upper arms and propelled him from the room. They wound their way through a number of corridors and up a set of stone steps. When the heavy wood door was thrown open at the top, he was blinded by sunlight. He balked then at being thrust outside without clothes, but the Handlers didn’t hesitate. They dragged him forward and up another set of steps and onto a wooden platform that nearly burned his bare feet. The shock of the crowd before him had barely registered when he found himself hanging from the cuffs again.
His arms were stretched above his head till he was nearly on tiptoe. The sunlight gleamed off his oiled skin and accentuated his musculature. He let his head tip forward so his hair fell over his eyes, but he felt the gaze of more than a hundred people on his naked body. The handlers slowly turned him a full circle so the throng could see him from every angle.
“White male of Polish descent, age 25.” A bald man in black trousers and boots, and a white shirt and black vest paced in from of Jared reading off a notepad. “No diseases or physical disabilities of note, six and a half feet tall, one-hundred and ninety pounds, appropriate for physical labor. Can we start the bidding at …”
“Excuse me, Mr. Fuller,” a man near the front of the crowd interrupted. “Has it been violated?”
There was a murmur from the crowd. Fuller pulled himself up, and looking displeased, said, “You know, I don’t allow that sort of thing here, Mr. Ackles.”
“Of course not, Mr. Fuller,” the man replied. Jared searched the crowd a moment until he saw the man near the front. Tall and broad-shouldered, Mr. Ackles was dressed in simple but clearly expensive clothes. A buyer then, Jared thought.
“I mean no disrespect, but before it came into your possession …” Ackles suggested.
“This lot is being sold as a Drudge, Mr. Ackles,” Fuller said.
“Ah, I assumed it was being sold for the best price,” Ackles countered, and there was a steel edge to the voice that made Jared’s chest tighten.
“I assure you there’s been no violation,” Fuller said.
“Humor me,” Ackles said.
Fuller nodded to the handlers who turned Jared’s back to the crowd again. Someone near the back whistled. “I’d violate that,” another said, and laughter rippled through the throng.
Jared’s cheeks burned as his feet were kicked apart, and the chain holding his hands over his head was lowered. The handlers made him bend forward at the waist, exposing his bare ass. His balls and cock swung freely between his legs.
“Been looking for a bull to breed my prize heifer,” another on-looker remarked.
“I think you found him, friend,” another answered. “What’s a bull going for these days?”
“Order, please!” Fuller shouted, and turning to Ackles asked, “Satisfied?”
“May I take a closer look?” Ackles requested.
Jared heard Fuller’s intake of breath. “As you will, Sir.”
Jared couldn’t see much, but there was the sound of boots on the wooden steps and then the toes of custom tooled boots. Spit seeped around the bit, over his lip, and dripped onto the wooden platform. Gloved fingers caught in Jared’s hair and pulled his head up. Ackles had short-cropped hair, a square jaw, and assessing eyes of green. If it weren’t for the severe expression, he might be pretty with those thick lashes and full lips.
“Free caught?” Ackles asked.
“Yes,” Fuller said.
“Mm, doesn’t even know to avert its eyes.”
Jared looked away and immediately regretted it.
“Quick learner.” Ackles smirked. He pulled Jared’s lips back from the bit. “Good teeth. Shiny hair. Looks healthy.” He let go of Jared’s hair and ran his hand along Jared’s back as he walked around behind him. “Well-muscled.” Jared started as fingers grasped his balls, rolled them, and gave them a slight tug. He whined around the bit when the fingers moved to his cock and stroked it. It began to fatten in Ackles’ hand, and the man chuckled softly. Jared’s cock was left swinging as hands grasped his buttocks, and thumbs pulled them apart. Jared wriggled and tried to pull away. Ackles patted his left ass cheek and shushed him as though he were a horse.
Jared’s buttocks were pulled apart again and a glob of spit his asshole. He twitched but didn’t try to pull away. “Good boy,” Ackles murmured as a finger pushed inside him. Jared gasped in shock, and his cheeks burned. The finger pulled out, and he got another pat.
“One-hundred and eighty thousand, Mr. Fuller,” Ackles said in a low voice.
“This is an auction …” Fuller hissed.
“That’s my offer, take it or leave it,” Ackles said.
Fuller sputtered for a moment, but spoke quietly. “Mr. Ackles, that is not how I do business.”
“I know who’s in that crowd, Sir,” Ackles said. “We both do, and we both know you won’t get a better price from the quarry or the foundry or any of the farms. You won’t get half as much, so let’s stop this pretense, shall we?” He almost sounded bored.
“He’s not within guidelines for a Stoma,” Fuller said.
“That isn’t your concern,” Ackles said. His hand still rested on Jared’s hip as though it were a piece of furniture.
“The last Stoma you purchased …”
“Was inadequate to my needs, Sir,” Ackles said. “Now, do we have a deal?”
Fuller sighed. “How could I say no, Mr. Ackles?”
“Excellent!” Ackles slapped a trembling Jared on the rump. “I’ll give your Handlers my specifications for the purchase.”
“Of course, Sir.”
Jared was taken back to the Groomers whose eyes widened in surprise. Fuller whispered to the dark-haired one in the doorway and then disappeared. The Groomer took a large alabaster jar from the shelf and the two of them proceeded to smear a foul-smelling cream up the crease of Jared’s ass and over his buttocks, his groin, up his treasure trail, and over his chest. His ass and groin began to tingle.
The bit was removed. “Shaving you was waste of time,” the Groomer commented as he spread the cream over Jared’s neck and face.
“Oh God!” Jared blurted as his groin began to burn.
“Hush,” the Groomer said. “It’s not hurting you.”
“It burns!”
“Oh honey, if that’s the least pain you ever feel, you’ve won the owner lottery.” The Groomer went to a basin to wash his hands. “Just lie back and relax. We’ll wash it off soon.”
“What is it?” Jared whispered.
The Groomers eyed one another. “It takes the hair off,” the blond said. “You’ll be bare as a baby.”
Jared eyes stung, and he closed them. It shouldn’t be a big deal. It was just hair, but he remembered how he and his friends thought of getting pubes as a sign of manhood when they were teens. Well, he wasn’t a man anymore. He knew he’d be sold like a piece of livestock, but he wasn’t expecting to be some rich man’s sex toy.
Tears ran from the corners of his closed eyes and down his temples. He bit his lip. He had to get out. He had to run for it even if they killed him. He sat up, but the dark-haired groomer was right there.
“Don’t!” he said. He put his hand on Jared’s chest and sat down beside him. He leaned in close and whispered. “I know what you’re thinking. I thought that too. I ran, and they took my balls. I was nineteen.”
Jared shook his head. “Maybe they’ll kill me.”
“They won’t,” the Groomer said. “They’ll make you wish you were dead.”
The blond joined them. “Who bought you? A brothel?”
“No, a man named Ackles.”
The Groomers exchanged glances. “Well, he’s …”
The brunette arched an eyebrow. “Beautiful, filthy rich, hard to please…”
The blond nodded. “Time’s up. Let’s get him washed.”
Jared felt twice as naked, but his cock looked even larger without the thatch of hair around it. A new bit was placed between his teeth, and he was taken to a small reception room where he was made to kneel on a soft rug. The walls were dark wood paneled and straight-backed chairs with red velvet cushions sat on each side of an arched window.
Footsteps and voices approached. “Always good to do business with you, Mr. Fuller.”
Jared knew Ackles’ voice and recognized the toes of the man’s boots before him. “Remove his collar and cuffs, if you will.”
Handlers squatted beside him, and one unlocked the cuffs as the other removed the collar. No doubt he’d receive another collar, but he wondered if he’d be allowed to go without the cuffs. His hopes were dashed when Ackles himself replaced the leather collar with a heavy steel one. Jared glanced up once and caught Ackles’ impassive gaze. He looked away again, his cheeks burning with shame.
Two rods hung from each side of the collar that were about two-foot long and ended in metal loops. No, they were cuffs, Jared realized with alarm. Ackles was already fitting a cuff on Jared’s right hand when Jared tensed. Adrenaline flooded his system in a fight or flight response.
“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Ackles said with such calm that Jared didn’t realize it for the warning it was until Ackles reached down and grabbed his nuts. He squeezed just this side of painful. “Don’t make me hurt you.”
Jared nodded.
“Good boy.” Ackles cuffed the other wrist as well. He took Jared’s elbow and helped him to his feet.
Jared realized what a devious contraption he was trapped in. He could only move his hands in a circle, a kind of halo around his body. He could reach neither his face nor his groin.
Ackles clipped a thick braided leather lead to his collar. “Do you know what ‘heel’ means?” he asked.
Jared gave a jerky nod of his head.
“Good,” Ackles said and turned away. “Heel.” He walked toward the door, and Jared followed one step back and to his left. He didn’t lose pace with his new master as they crossed the lobby, but when Menials opened the street doors for them, he hesitated. Ackles stopped beneath the portico and half turned toward Jared. “Do not embarrass me in public.” The threat in his voice was clear. Jared’s mouth was so dry, he was no longer drooling around the bit. He tried not to think of the threat and concentrated on his footing and keeping a proper distance with his master.
The stone steps were sun-warm under his bare feet, and he was distracted by the sensation of his cock and balls swinging freely between his legs. The sidewalk was busy with pedestrians, and he kept his gaze focused downward at the pavement and Ackles’ heels. He knew that passersby were ogling him. He recalled the times he’d openly stared at naked slaves – one in particular came to mind, a small dark-haired girl with her arms bound behind her back. Her pert breasts were pushed forward and high by her posture. Jewels glittered on her nipples and dangled from her shaved pussy. He’d laid in bed that night jerking off to her image.
He’d seen slaves left tethered to a post while their master did business in a store or office. He’d heard children taunt them and adults ridicule them. They were treated as less than pet dogs, which were generally ignored or fawned over. That was him now – an object arousing derision, pity or lust. There might be laws to protect chattel, but those laws were invoked only in the most heinous of abuse cases. Jared wondered at Fuller’s reluctance to sell him to Ackles. Just how cruel would his master turn out to be?
Jared had to pull up short to keep from running into Ackles when he was stopped by another pedestrian.
“Ackles, my friend,” the man said. The man was tall and gaunt with a hawkish nose and grating voice that made Jared’s skin crawl.
“Heyerdahl, good to see you,” Ackles said. Jared couldn’t help but think that the tone of his master’s voice suggested that he was being disingenuous.
“Been to the auction, have you?”
“Indeed,” Ackles replied dryly.
“Looks as though I should have gotten there sooner,” Heyerdahl said.
“I’m afraid you’d have found this purchase out of your price range,” Ackles said.
Heyerdahl didn’t speak for a moment, but Jared could almost feel the man’s gaze on his body like a spider’s touch. “Free caught?”
“Just days ago.”
“Un-violated?”
“Yes.”
“Hm, you may be right about the price … now. Let me know when you’re done with it. Perhaps we could come to an agreement.” The man sneered. “Used goods and all.”
Jared had forgotten himself as he stared at his master’s profile. A muscle ticked in Ackles’ jaw and his pretty eyes narrowed a moment before a small smile curved his lips. “Yes, perhaps.”
“Excellent,” Heyerdahl said. “I’m glad we understand one another, Ackles. Good day.”
“Indeed, we do,” Ackles replied. “Too well,” he added under his breath as he watched Heyerdahl walk away. Then he turned and looked Jared in the eye. Jared dropped his gaze. “Does he frighten you, Stoma?”
Jared nodded.
“Good, he should.”
Jared didn’t know what to think. Was that supposed to be some kind of reassurance that his master wasn’t cruel? Or was it a threat that if Jared didn’t behave, Ackles would sell him to Heyerdahl? There was a tug on the lead, and Jared followed his master into a shop. A bell dinged overhead, and Jared kept his gaze on the floor. It was small and clean but smelled of medicinal ointments and a burnt flesh. His stomach clenched, and he looked around with wild eyes.
“Calm,” Ackles said.
Jared gave him a pleading look.
“It won’t hurt,” Ackles said. “Tell him, Christian,” he said to the proprietor behind the counter. The man was shorter than Jared or his master, but he had an air of assurance about him. Jared would have bet he’d be formidable in a fight.
“It won’t hurt,” the blue-eyed man said to Jared. “Why do you care, Jensen? It’s just a Stoma.”
So his master’s name was Jensen. Not that it mattered. Not that the word would ever pass his lips. There were few things worse for a slave to do than speak its master’s proper name.
“Why needlessly frighten him?” Jensen said. “I know you enjoy manhandling the little ones, but do you really want a fight on your hands from this one?”
“You’ve got a point,” Christian said. He lifted a hinged portion of the counter. “Bring him back. You do like ‘em big, don’t you? What are you calling him?”
Jensen shrugged. “Haven’t decided.” They maneuvered Jared with his back to the wall.
“What’s his name?” Christian asked.
“No idea,” Jensen answered.
He and Jensen each took a wrist and started to attach them to steel fasteners on the wall. Jared panicked. He didn’t think about the consequences as he twisted and struck out. Within seconds, Christian’s forearm was across his throat and Jensen’s fist around his sac. They hooked the cuffs to the wall and stepped back.
Christian shook his head. “There’s a reason that there are standards for Stoma, you know?”
“I’ve heard,” Jensen said.
“Soft, pretty, easy to manhandle,” Christian remarked.
“No challenge,” Jensen said. He sniffed. “Besides, they break.”
Christian sighed. “Usual spot?” he asked as he picked up the branding tool. He adjusted the settings on the unit and watched the digital read out.
“Yes, on the left side.” Jensen tapped his finger against the left side of his own chest.
Jared was breathing heavily through his nose, and his heart was racing. It all suddenly seemed like a bad dream leading to this moment. Once he was branded as a slave, any chance of ever being free was gone. This man’s mark would be a permanent sign of ownership – altered only by a new owner. Jared’s body would never again be his.
He couldn’t keep his eyes averted. He looked at Jensen with a plea, his vision wavering through his tears. His master’s face was expressionless.
“Best to get it over with,” Jensen said.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” Christian said as though Jensen had been talking to him, but he wasn’t. Jared was sure. His master had been looking at him, telling him it was better to destroy his hope now. Jared let his eyes fall shut as Christian traced the pattern on his skin and put the electro-branding tool to his chest. The sickening smell of burning flesh filled his nose.
~~~
Jared was made to kneel on the floor of Jensen’s towncar when they left Christian’s shop. Jensen sat in the backseat with Jared at his feet. A liveried Menial whom Jensen referred to as Osric drove. Jared felt slightly woozy. He didn’t know how long it had been since he ate. There was a deep ache beneath the bandage on his chest, but Christian and Jensen hadn’t lied to him. The branding didn’t hurt in the way he’d thought. The branding tool had apparently burned away the nerves deep into the skin.
Even with the rods holding his arms away from his body, he was able to rest his hands on the edge of the car seat to steady himself. The carpet was plush as velvet and the leather seat buttery soft. Jensen didn’t seem to object to Jared putting his hands on the seat. He ran his fingers through Jared’s hair and raked it back from his forehead as he observed his new possession.
“I’m going to remove the bit,” he said. “That isn’t permission to speak unless spoken to.” He unbuckled the strap behind Jared’s head and eased he bit from between his teeth. “When I ask you questions, you will respond with ‘Yes, Master’ or “No, Master.’ Do you understand?”
Jared’s jaw ached, and he swallowed before trying to speak. “Yes … yes, Master.” It was with effort that he got the last word out. It caught in his throat like a barbed hook.
“Good boy.”
I’m not a boy; I’m a man, he wanted to shout, but he remembered the threat of his master’s fingers wrapped around his balls and the pretty castrato Groomer. This man quite literally held his manhood in his hands. With the wrong word or action, Jared could lose it completely.
“Calm,” Jensen said as he ran his fingers through Jared’s hair. Much as Jared hated the man and the situation he was in, he had to admit that Jensen’s voice and touch would be calming if he let them be. A part of him wanted to surrender to the inevitable, but he couldn’t. This wasn’t him, this low, obedient creature sitting at some rich man’s feet, about to become his fucktoy.
Suddenly, fingers gripped his chin and lifted his face. He realized that his hands were fisted on the edge of the seat and his jaw clenched. Jensen looked him in the eye and shook his head. “That way lies punishment.”
Jared drew in a shuddering breath. “I …”
Jensen pressed a button that slid the window up between them and Osric.
“Listen to me,” Jensen said. “You may be larger than me. You may be stronger. But in no way will anything good come to you by fighting me. You must know that.”
Jared felt all the fight go out of him. “Yes, Master. I know. It’s …” He wasn’t sure if he was allowed to speak further, but when Jensen didn’t stop him, he went on. “This is hard.”
Jensen leaned back and gave a slight shrug. “It is what it is.” He ran a fingertip along Jared’s jawline. “You can be a lapdog or you can be a mule. It’s your choice.”
The car stopped before one of the grand mansions on the old side of town. It rose straight up from sidewalk for five somber Gothic stories and dominated a city block. Osric drove the towncar away to be lodged elsewhere, Jared presumed. Jensen led him up the front steps worn smooth by centuries of footsteps to a recessed entry. The door was opened by middle-aged female Menial in navy and white uniform. Her honey-colored hair was pulled severely back from her face and caught in a bun at the back of her neck.
“Welcome home, Sir,” she said in a husky voice.
“Samantha.” Jensen handed her his jacket. “Have food brought to my room. I will be unavailable the rest of the evening.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Jared couldn’t help looking around as the two conversed. He’d never seen anything like it. In scale, it was much like museums he’d visited, but never a private home. Persian rugs muffled the echoes that bounced off the inlaid marble floors. An intricately carved staircase curved upward for four stories. A stained-glass dome glowed high overhead. Tall arched windows flanked the front door that a giant wouldn’t have had to stoop to get through.
“Come,” Jensen said with a slight tug at the leash.
In the shadow of the staircase was an ornate cage elevator car. Jensen led him inside and set it in motion. It rose three stories before Jensen stopped it and led him out. Instead of entering the main corridor, Jensen took him down a narrower side hallway and into a suite of rooms with high ceilings and more tall arched windows. The furnishings were of dark, heavy wood. The drapes of were of garnet-colored damask that coordinated with the bedding and upholstery of garnet and deep green.
“These are my private rooms,” Jensen said. “You’ll spend most of your time here.”
Jared stood dumbly in the middle of the room, naked and restrained, as he watched Jensen unbutton his vest and hang it on the back of a chair.
“You should know that I have a wife and children.” Jensen continued talking without looking at Jared as he un-knotted his tie. “Obviously, you aren’t a secret. You don’t have to be concerned that she will resent you since she prefers women as I prefer men.”
Jensen dropped his tie onto the bureau and loosened the neck of his white shirt. It had French cuffs and winged collar. His black trousers were nearly skin-tight as was the fashion. They showed off his strong if slightly bowed legs. Jensen turned and caught his gaze.
“Have you ever been with a man?”
Jared didn’t have to ask what he meant. “No, Master.”
“Hm, no matter.”
No, Jared thought, not to you, you son of a bitch.
Jensen’s head tipped slightly. “Kneel.”
Jared didn’t respond immediately to the order, which seemed to come out of nowhere, but before Jensen could speak again, Jared began to lower himself to his knees. He felt awkward and unbalanced with his arms restrained as they were. He told himself that the bars would allow him to catch himself before he fell on his face.
Jensen circled him. “Good boy. Knees apart. Back straight. Eyes down.”
Jared corrected his position by spreading his knees wider and rolling his shoulders back. Jensen’s fingertips brushed his shoulders as he passed behind him.
“Good,” he said quietly. “Beautiful.”
There was a knock at the door. “Come in,” Jensen called. “Ah, Osric, good.”
Even with his eyes down, Jared could see Jensen sit on a chair and hold his booted foot out. Osric straddled the outstretched leg with his back to his owner and pulled the boot off. Jensen put that foot down and extended the other. With both boots off, Osric picked them up.
“Shall I polish these, Sir?”
“Do that,” Jensen said.
“Will there be anything else, Sir?”
“No, not tonight, Osric. Thank you.”
The exchange between Jensen and Osric calmed Jared a little. His owner seemed to have an easy relationship with the Menials, and he noted that he used their names. They didn’t appear to fear him, and that was a relief.
“Very good, Sir,” Osric said. As he left, a young female Menial arrived with a tray full of covered dishes. She set it on a low table in front of a settee and flanked by easy chairs.
“Shall I open the wine, Sir?” she asked. She had dark eyes and hair and a generous mouth. One hand grasped the other before her in a nervous gesture. She wore a filmy shift that did nothing to hide her most intimate assets.
Jensen eyed her. “No, Ruby, that’s quite enough. Thank you,” he replied.
She curtsied. “Very well, Sir.” She headed for the door but stopped when he spoke again.
“And Ruby?’
“Yes, Sir?” Her voice was small and uncertain like that of a child.
“Tell your mistress that if she’d like to see my acquisition, she should come look herself instead of sending spies.” He smiled then and winked.
“Yes, Sir,” she said with a blush and slipped quickly out of the room.
Jared cast his eyes back to the floor before his master could catch him watching. Jensen rose and went to the table. Jared heard to cork pop on the wine bottle and liquid pouring. China clinked as the dishes were uncovered, and his stomach growled as the smell of meat and roast vegetables reached him. Jensen approached and squatted down before him. In his hand, he held a plate loaded with roast beef cut into small chunks, new red potatoes that glistened with butter, carrots and summer squash. Jared’s mouth watered and his stomach rumbled.
Jensen picked up a bite of roast and held it out to Jared, but Jared’s jaw involuntarily clenched in rebellion. “How long has it been since you’ve had a real meal?” Jensen asked.
Jared’s stomach felt like it was devouring itself, but he couldn’t bring himself to eat from Jensen’s hand. He turned his head away.
“I see,” Jensen said. “So, you’re choosing mule.” He set the plate on the floor before Jared and stood. He went to the table and fixed himself a plate. Jared watched him walk into the adjoining room and shut the door.
Jared stared at the plate. He could almost taste the meat. His mouth was watering so much he had to swallow down the saliva. For weeks, he’d lived on stale bread thrown out by the bakery, tomatoes and carrots stolen from gardens, wormy apples and sour grapes. The last good meal he’d had was at his parents’ house the week before he’d gone on the run. He’d never see them again. That life was gone. This was what he had. He blinked back tears.
He took a deep breath and pulled himself together. He let the breath out slowly and found himself reaching for the plate. He stopped short of picking up the bite of meat that Jensen had held. He could, but he knew the rod attached to the wrist cuff and collar wouldn’t allow him to bring the food to his mouth. There was only way for him to eat. He was suppressed the urge to fling the plate across the room. His hunger got the better of him.
He put one hand on each side of the plate and slowly slid them farther apart as he bent forward, lowering his face to the plate. He picked the morsels of food up as carefully as possible in an attempt to not get it all over his face, but he ended up chasing slick buttery potatoes with his tongue and slurping at bits of meat stuck to the plate. It was delicious. The meat was tender and redolent with herbs. The potatoes were soft and creamy. The vegetables were firm and fresh. Before he knew it the plate was licked clean and his face was slick with butter and grease.
When he heard the doorknob rattle, he returned to his kneeling position with his head bowed. Jensen crossed the room and stopped at the empty plate.
“I see you changed your mind,” he said. “It’s good to know you have some sense of self-preservation.” He picked the plate up and took it to the table.
Jared didn’t feel smart. He felt weak. He wondered what Jensen would do if faced with a hunger strike.
“You should know that I’m a patient man and I always win,” Jensen said. He poured more wine. “I can out wait most mulish behavior, but I have my limits.” He squatted down before Jared with a white linen napkin in one hand and glass of wine in the other. “I had a slave once who tried a hunger strike,” he said as though he’d heard Jared’s thoughts. He wiped Jared’s mouth and chin with the napkin. “I put a tube down his throat and force fed him. From his reaction, I’d say it was neither dignified nor comfortable.” He held the wine glass to Jared’s mouth. “Drink, Mule.”
Jared parted his lips and let Jensen pour wine into his mouth. He’d never understood why anyone would pay hundreds of dollars for a bottle of wine. He suddenly did. It was amazing – blackberry and pepper, violets and tobacco. The flavor changed as it rolled across his tongue. His eyes went wide as he swallowed.
Jensen’s eyes softened, the corners crinkling as his lips turned up in a smile. “Right?”
Jared nodded, and Jensen fed him the rest of the wine. Jared shifted his knees and grimaced.
“You aren’t used to kneeling so much, are you?” He grasped Jared’s elbow. “Come on.” He helped Jared to his feet and left him standing in the middle of the room while he poured more wine. Jared heard Jensen moving behind him before he felt his master’s hand on his back. It mapped the rise and dip of muscle, the valley of his spine down to the flare of his lower back, over the swell of his left buttock. Jared’s muscles twitched under Jensen’s hand. Jensen chuckled and moved his hand up to Jared’s neck where he kneaded tense muscles. He stepped in front of Jared, trailing his fingers over Jared’s racing pulse to the gauze that covered his mark. His thumb teased the raised nub of his nipple.
Jared felt a spark of arousal. He fought to not pull away and hissed in a breath through his teeth.
Jensen smiled. “Sensitive?”
Jared felt heat rise in his cheeks. “Yes, Master.”
“Good to know.” He took a drink of wine and traced Jared’s abs, the cut of his hip, down to the crease of his thigh. Again, Jared struggled to not move away from his master’s touch. Jensen looked up through lowered lashes to Jared’s knitted brow. “Say it.”
“What, what do you want me to say, Master?”
Jensen’s hand moved closer, where a thick thatch had grown, flat over newly bare skin. “Say how you feel.”
Jared met Jensen’s eye and looked away.
“It’s all right. Go ahead,” Jensen said.
“Like livestock.”
“It’s an apt analogy,” Jensen said. He put the glass to Jared’s lips and tipped it up. “You’re sleek like a race horse, strong like a bull …” The fingers were there caressing his sac, stroking up the underside of his flaccid cock. “I didn’t buy you for your intellect. I bought you because you’re beautiful.”
Jared almost rolled his eyes.
“You were surprised that you were sold as a Stoma instead of a Drudge, weren’t you?” Jensen said.
“I never thought …” He swallowed the words.
“No, of course not,” Jensen said. He offered Jared the wine and emptied the glass down his slave’s throat. “You just thought you were big and strong and useful. You don’t see the beauty of that or your wine rich mouth or vulpine eyes.”
Jared probably had five inches in height on his master in their bare feet. He looked down in lust blown eyes that unnerved him. He knew what this man wanted ultimately, and he didn’t know if he could allow it without a fight. Maybe Jensen saw something in Jared’s eyes, but it was as though a switch turned off. He stepped away.
“You must need to relieve yourself,” he said. He set the wine glass down on the table. “The facilities are this way.” Jared followed him into a room tiled in white and trimmed in gold, aqua and ultramarine. A large, round tub dominated the corner of the room. Occasional chairs and small gilt tables loaded with soaps and bottles set beside it. Two pedestal sinks with ornate mirrors were against one wall and an open shower stood in another corner. In an enclosure, in the other corner was the stool.
“I can help you or you can sit,” Jensen said in reference to Jared not being able to touch his junk while standing.
Jared tried to hide a glare. “You could …”
“No. I gave you two options.”
Jared sucked his lips between his lips.
“Choose,” Jensen said. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “Mule or lapdog.”
Jared’s hands swung at the end of the rods and tugged at the heavy collar. He wondered how long it would take to drive him insane. The thought of Jensen touching his cock made him want to punch something. He went into the enclosure and sat on the stool. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed to piss, but now that he could, he couldn’t. His bladder ached. He thought that maybe if Jensen wasn’t standing there, he could go, but he knew he couldn’t ask him to leave.
“It’s all right,” Jensen said. “There’s no hurry. Relax.”
Jared let out a breath and tried to do just that. Nothing.
“Did you ever have a dog when you were a kid?” Jensen asked.
“Yes, Master.” He could picture the brown mongrel curled at the foot of his bed.
“What was his name?”
“Teddy.”
“Was Teddy ever self-conscious about pissing in front of you?”
A stream of piss suddenly let loose. The sound echoed in the tile cubicle like a waterfall in a canyon. Jared hung his head. Jensen stepped forward till Jared’s forehead rested against his hip and ran his fingers through his hair.
“There. Feel better now?
Jared found himself nodding and wondering if this was what his life would be – a series of small humiliations that would wear him down to a cringing lapdog.
Jared drew himself upright and looked up at Jensen. “What if I have to take a shit, Master? How am I supposed to wipe my ass?”
There was a flash of anger in Jensen’s eyes, and Jared wished he could take back his words or soften them. Then, Jenseen’s lips twitched with amusement.
“Do you need to ‘take a shit,’ Mule?” he asked.
Jared averted his eyes. “No, Master.”
“Come,” Jensen said. He turned and started for the bathroom door. “I’ll show you around. You’ll be spending most of your time in these rooms at least for the next few weeks.”
Jared hurried to catch up. He felt ridiculous with his hands uselessly dangling from the steel rods, but he soon forgot both his nakedness and the restraints. The door to the right of the bathroom led to a room lined with bookshelves rising to the coffered ceiling above. Jared stopped just inside the room and turned slowly with wide eyes. When he’d made a complete revolution, he saw that Jensen was watching him thoughtfully.
“Do you read?” Jensen asked. He absently turned the pages of a large volume lying on the long oak table that dominated the center of the room.
“Oh yes!” Jared said. “I mean, yes, Master. I love books.”
“Feel free to read, if I’ve not given you other tasks,” Jensen said. “These are my books. There’s more variety in the library downstairs. I’ll show you sometime.” He gestured to the wall on his right. “This side is fiction prose, poetry, drama…” He swept his arm along the wall and shrugged. “Mostly alphabetical. It’s not arranged for anyone but me, and I know where my favorites are.”
“What are they? Your favorites?” Jared asked without thinking.
“Oh …” Jensen’s eyes searched the shelves. “Cambry, Leaoulinus, Mendez-Garcia.” He stepped forward and touched the spine of a book.
“At Dusk? I read that years ago, before …” Before the regime, he’d nearly said. Before everything changed. When humans weren’t bought and sold. When libraries were open to even the poorest.
Jensen eyed him a moment and then pulled the book from the shelf. He held it out to Jared whose hands nearly itched to grasp the book. He took it reveling in the weight of it his hands, the leather worn smooth across the front and back, and the softly frayed edges.
“Did you get it new?” he asked.
“Yes, years ago,” Jensen said. He leaned his hip across the table. “It spent a lot of time in my book bag at college.”
Jared nodded, thinking of how much Jensen must have loved the book as he had, and how odd that was. He opened the cover. Jensen’s signature was scrawled across the flyleaf – Jensen R. Ackles. “What’s the ‘R’ stand for?”
Jensen took the book from him and laid it on the table. “We’ll leave this here for now. I have another room to show you.” He walked past Jared and out the door. Jared followed him across the large living room divided by a towering arch between the sitting area and sleeping room with its enormous bed on a raised platform, hung with heavy damask drapes that matched those at the windows.
There were two doors on the far wall. The first opened to a small exercise room with a weight set, treadmill, and other equipment.
“Feel free to use this room when you have free time,” Jensen said. He turned the light off and led Jared to the second doorway.
The room beyond was relatively small and windowless. Wall sconces with amber globes gave the room a warm glow. Like the furniture in the other rooms, this was heavy and ornate, but strangely built. Some pieces were tall frames, without upholstery, while others were vertical or angled, padded or covered in leather. When he recognized steel rings and leather straps attached to some of the devices, he took a step back.
“Don’t balk, Mule,” Jensen said. “Come in.”
Jared stared at the floor and willed himself to step forward, but he couldn’t. Jensen stepped close, for half second Jared thought, I could get my hands around his neck. I could kill him, but he knew it was a stupid impulse. The punishment for killing his owner would be at least as horrific as anything Jensen could do to him in this room. Jensen took Jared’s face in his hands.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Jensen said.
Jared’s jaw clenched. He wanted to shout at Jensen that he didn’t have to be cut or beaten to be hurt.
“In fact – look at me,” Jensen ordered.
His gaze was so intense, it was hard for Jared to hold it. He felt as though Jensen was looking inside him.
“If you promise to obey me, I won’t restrain you further,” he said.
Jared huffed. He didn’t know if he could make that promise when he didn’t know what Jensen would ask. “I, I’ll do my best.”
Jensen pursed his lips and nodded. “All right,” he said. “Come here.” He took Jared’s elbow and led him to a high angled chair. The bottom edge was curved to conform to the shape of the buttocks and two curled arms extended outward that culminated in a rolled peg. It resembled a fantastical plant like a Venus fly-trap.
“I want you to turn around and lean back against this. Put your feet on the foot rests.”
Jared saw then that he’d be lying back at an angle with his legs spread and knees bent. His groin would be exposed and just at the height of Jensen’s. To each side of his shoulders the back extended with steel rings that his wrist cuffs could be attached to.
“I told you, I won’t restrain you further if you obey,” Jensen reminded him.
Jared swallowed the lump in his throat and turned around. This was it, he thought, where everything had been leading from the moment he was designated as Stoma. He leaned back and settled his right foot on a foot rest and then the other. Jensen stepped forward and put his hands on Jared’s raised knees.
“I lied!” Jared blurted.
Jensen’s lips compressed into a thin line for a moment. “Would you like to elucidate that confession?”
“When I said I’d never been with a man that wasn’t quite true. I just never…”
Jensen’s hands slipped down the inside of Jared’s thighs, spreading them wider. “You never what?”
“I topped.”
“I see. You’ve never been fucked?” His hands continued stroking the sensitive skin of Jared’s inner thighs, and Jared’s cock began to fatten. His body’s betrayal made him feel sick.
“No.”
“What about this? Did you…” Jensen leaned forward and licked a stripe up Jared’s stiffening cock.
“Yes,” Jared gasped as blood rushed to his thickening flesh.
Jensen looked up with a wicked gleam in his eyes and then suckled the crown of Jared’s cock. Jensen hummed around the fat head and flicked his tongue into the slit. Jared’s dick was fully hard and his thigh muscles tensed. Jensen was fucking gorgeous and sucked cock like he loved it. Jared was completely unprepared. He’d thought he was going to be sodomized and humiliated, and instead he was getting the blowjob of his life as Jensen swallowed Jared’s cock into his throat. He never took his eyes off Jared’s face.
“Oh fuck!” Jared said. He fought the urge to thrust his hips. Jensen pulled off and grinned at him before laving over Jared’s sac. He kept his hand on Jared’s cock, lightly stroking it as he sucked Jared’s left nut into his mouth. Jared let a whimper escape unawares. Jensen mouthed the other ball, rolling it over the slick heat of his tongue.
Jared almost wished he were restrained so he had something to pull against. His useless hands lay against the bench on each side of him. His fingers clenched and unclenched. He moaned as Jensen went down on him again, swallowing his cock to the base and then pulling nearly off, suckling the head as he stroked the shaft with his hand. Jared’s moans became almost a part of his respiration. His balls were heavy, so full. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a chance to jerk off. Tension coiled tighter in his groin.
“Oh, oh, I’m …”
Jensen sank all the way to the base again, and Jared was coming down his throat. Jensen moved just slightly, his muscles rippling, ratcheting up the pleasure until it was too much.
“Oh, oh fuck, please, stop, stop,” he begged.
Jensen let Jared’s cock slip from his mouth. He licked his lips and grinned. “I like the sound of you begging,” he said.
Jared lay there panting.
“Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Jensen asked.
“No … no, Master.” Jared nearly choked on the admission. He hated his unwilling participation in the act, but he couldn’t deny how it felt. In another world, he could have gone for Jensen, and that angered the hell out of him.
“You understand that this belongs to me.” Jensen’s fingers caressed Jared’s balls and cock. “Mine to pleasure. Only mine.”
Jared’s eyes widened. Was he serious?
“I know that sounds difficult to accept,” Jensen said. “So, I’m going to help you learn discipline.” He held up a strangely shaped metal contraption that resembled a tiny curved animal cage.
“What?!” Before Jared could say another word, Jensen grasped his balls and flaccid cock and closed a metal ring around the base. “Hold still,” he warned. He put Jared’s cock into the cage and locked the two pieces together. “You won’t be able to play with it, and it won’t be able to get hard.”
Jared was speechless, which was probably a good thing considering the rage and resentment that was filling him.
“Did you have something to say, Mule?” Jensen’s voice was deadly cold and his eyes narrowed.
Jared huffed out a breath. “No.”
“No, what?”
Jared’s eyes stung. “No, Master.”
“Good boy.” Jensen stepped back from between Jared’s legs. “Let’s get you ready for bed.”
He followed Jensen back to the bathroom where Jensen helped him brush his teeth and wash up. He waited while his master did the same, and then followed him back to the bedroom. Jensen turned back the covers on the bed to reveal what looked like acres of snowy linen.
“You may sleep here with me or you can sleep on the rug.” Jensen pointed to the floor at his feet.
Jared was beginning to think that the choices he was being given were some cruel game. Of course, he didn’t want to sleep in either place. The choices weren’t choices at all. Jensen was fucking with him and testing him. He feared that if he slept in the bed with his master he wouldn’t be able to resist wrapping his fingers around the man’s throat and choking him to death in the night. Besides, he’d been sleeping in filthy hovels for weeks. The rug looked pretty soft. He lowered himself to his knees.
Jensen huffed. “Suit yourself, Mule.”
Jared laid down on his side with his arms extended to the limit of the rods before him. Jensen pulled a blanket from the bed and spread it over him before climbing between the sheets.
Jared couldn’t imagine that he’d be able to sleep, but the weeks of running and the events of the day, not to mention the wine and orgasm, had him falling quickly to sleep.