Disclaimer: I do not own any of the QAF characters.  All QAF aspects belong to Showtime and Cowlip.  However all original characters and the plot itself belongs to me!  Thanks!

***

Chapter One: The Auction

 

“What the fuck is the Sap doing here?” Brian murmured, recognizing the owner of his favorite dance club immediately.  Feeling completely out of his element, Brian kept his head down, only allowing his eyes to subtly scan the crowd.  Normally not one to keep a low profile, the hazel eyed beauty was now wondering why in the world he’d let his curiosity get the best of him to accompany his best friend to this… auction.

 

            Michael scoffed out a laugh, “Are you kidding?  The Sap is one of the biggest slave traders around.  And the slimiest too.  His fav is finding the young ones, keeping them around a few years to break them, and then handing them off to his friends as party favors to take home.  It’s disgusting… and he’s own to be cruel too.”

 

            “Hmph,” Brian responded, only half picking up on his friend’s response.  The answer itself would have been quite interesting to him had Brian known what his future held with the man, but for now, he simply scanned his surroundings, the festivities around him even enough to make a man with his mass experience a little pink in the cheeks.

 

            With a drawn out sigh, Michael fanned his face with his brochure, scarcely affected by his surroundings anymore.  This whole thing was so tedious to him.  What did Deb think they could accomplish by attending these things?  “What does Ma think we can accomplish by attending these things, anyway?  It’s not like we’re freeing any of them… and we’d never buy one.  She’s always talking about how we ‘need to be on the lookout!’ and ‘keep looking for the next big collector!’  But for what?” Michael asked his thoughts aloud, a slight whine in his voice at his mother’s inconvenient requests.

 

            “Well, you know your mom, Mikey.  Always looking to help.”  Brian wasn’t even sure if his response had been in context, far too distracted by the many men chained around him.

 

            “And what the hell did you ask to come with for anyway?  You’ve never shown any interest in our cause before,” Michael accused.

 

            And rightly so.  Brian had never cared for the musings of his friend and his mother, spitting acid about the cruelty shown in their culture’s human sex trafficking.  Society was more or less split down the middle as far as the issue went.  Probably a little less than half felt that keeping a sex slave was immoral and barbaric, best left in the past with other old-dated customs.  Then there was the other half of society, who more or less didn’t care or even enjoyed being able to own a slave.  It was an age-old custom which many enjoyed.  It was also a way to keep the STDs down, seeing as less people had to go out looking for anonymous sex.  Besides, not all slave masters were cruel, they would argue.  Some even had great affection for their slaves (although falling in love with a slave was strictly forbidden and illegal).  And where would these indentured people be, in not for slavery?  There was no future for them, no skills to speak of besides the art of sex.  These people were either bred for it or sold by their parents into training at a young age.  If one was a good slave, he or she could win the bid of a wealthy person, ensuring a life of luxury as long as they kept their owner happy.

 

            As it was, Brian wasn’t completely sure why he’d asked to come along.  Curiosity, he supposed.  Michael and Deb had told him time and time again about the horrors they came across during auctions, but honestly, Brian didn’t see what the big deal was.  The auction they had attended was strictly for the selling of male slaves.  Most auctions were separated by gender sales, seeing as most potentials owners preferred only one or the other.  However, this auction was even more specific.  This particular auction was for the sale of male slaves to only male owners, the reasoning behind it being that these new male slaves had been shown to respond sexually to the male sex.  It wasn't so much that all the owners cared about the slaves’ pleasure, but at least they knew the slave would be more willing to perform for a member of their same gender.  Therefore, no women were allowed… which is why Deb had sent Michael.

 

            As the crowd of 100 or so people began to fill in the gaps in the arena, Brian felt a tad more comfortable taking in this strange environment.  There were naked men… everywhere…  Some were being led through the crowd by leashes, hands bound either in front or back, being halted by their trainers occasionally in order for a potential client to take a closer look at the merchandise.  All the slaves were brand new to the scene, as was the policy for this type of auction, all looking to be bought by their first owners.  However, while all the slaves were new and young, they came in all different types.  Tall, short, skinny, built, blonde, brunet, white, black, Asian…  They only real thing connecting all of them were the fact that they were all in shape physically, all attractive, and all hard… as in, erect.

 

That’s what caught Brian’s eye most of all, wouldn’t you know it.  It wasn’t so much that Brian was enjoying staring at their dicks, although he did enjoy staring at dicks, but he had to imagine that some of these men were scared out of their wits.  How did they keep it up?

 

“Drugs,” Mikey commented, noticing Brian’s gaze and look of astonishment.  “It’s drugs.  They keep the boys hard for hours, the poor fucks.  The boys try to keep erect anyway though.  Show off the goods, you know?  Many of these guys…  This is all they know.  They just want to be bought by a good, rich master.  That’s all.”  He tisked a few times, “Not all though.  Some are still reluctant and need higher doses of drugs to keep them… uh… up to the challenge.  Usually the ones who were sold by their parents at an older age tend to be more rebellious or just plain terrified.”

 

“So what happens now?”  Refusing to become emotionally involved, Brian busied his brain by eyeing the handsome slave beside him.  They weren’t standing more than five feet from each other.

 

The slave kept his head down as his trainer stalled by an interested party, a middle-aged, balding man, but by the look of his expensive pinstriped suit, a wealthy middle-aged, balding man.  Without warning, the buyer reached out a hand to grasp the boy’s cock, closely watching the slave’s reaction.  The client smirked as the boy gasped and twitched, obviously trying to stand still and quiet as his over-stimulated organ was taunted.  With a large laugh, baldy gave one more long, strong stroke before slapping the slave’s cheek gently.  “Aren’t you responsive…  Could be fun, lad.  I’ll jot down your number.”

 

Unsteady on his feet, the slave rasped, “Thank you, Sir.”

 

Brian’s lips curled in disgust and he watched the men split ways.  This definitely wasn’t his scene.

 

“Now,” Michael started, bringing Brian back to their conversation, “Now, we walk among the crowd, taking note of any cruelty we see going on or any big cats we see new to the scene and report back to CAST.”

 

Michael was, of course, referring to ‘Citizens Against the Slave Trade’ or CAST, a group started about 20 years back with the mission to end slavery once and for all.  It wasn’t an easy task though.  As Michael had been describing to his friend, there weren’t many places for freed slaves to go.  And if a slave was freed, which didn’t happen often, it needed to be done in secret… in the shadows… illegal papers drafted by trustworthy people.  It was illegal to free a slave, thinking a slave could never find a place outside of crime in a civilized society, and since freeing a slave could be so detrimental to their society, the act, if found out, was punishable by many years in prison and large fines… and the slave in question was either resold to a law-abiding owner (who would attempt to rehabilitate the slave back to the lifestyle)… or be put to death, if found to be a lost cause.  And thus, falling in love with a slave was ILLEGAL, as this was the number one excuse owners used when caught trying to free a slave… love.

 

“Aw, yes,” Brian sneered, “We mustn’t forget to report back to Mommy and Daddy.”

 

“Shut up, Asshole,” the Italian spat, “You have no idea what our group is trying to do.  You’ve never been here.  You’ve never seen firsthand what these people go through.  We may not be able to do much, but at least we’re trying… and at least we’re keeping the public aware.”

 

A sigh came from the taller man.  “Mikey,” he patronized, slinging an arm around his friend’s shoulder, “I get what you’re doing.  I just don’t see the point when nothing you do changes anything.  If you’d just let me help you guys with some publicity--”

 

“No!” Michael cut him off, “You know damn well we can’t go completely public, Brian.  I know the ad exec in you can’t see any other way of getting things done, but we must keep a low profile.”  While it wasn’t illegal to speak out against slavery, some passionate individuals felt the need to violently protest CAST members, including himself and his mother, making their cause somewhat of an underground issue.  “We could get ourselves in a lot of trouble, Brian.  So, I love you, and I know you just want to help, but butt out.  Let’s just take note of what we can and then get the fuck--”

 

It was Michael’s turn to be cut off this time as there was a large commotion behind them.  Both men whipped around as several others did the same.  A large crash was heard, followed by high pitched squeals and shouted profanity.

 

With an eye roll, Michael muttered, “Here we go,” and quickly took out a small legal pad and pen to jot down notes.  The man had obviously been through this before and seemed desensitized to it at this stage of the game.

 

Brian, on the other hand, wasn’t sure what to think.  He’d never been an emotional man and never let his heart rule his brain, but the sounds of the situation from the back of the arena made his stomach drop.  From the increasing volume, Brian guessed the disturbance was coming closer to them as a ruskused slave was pushed through the crowd.  And it was at this point that Brian witnessed something that would shape the rest of his life.

 

The slave’s pale, naked skin was flushed, although whether out of fear, embarrassment, or just from his incessant crying, no one would ever know.  “Please, you can’t!  PLEASE!” the boy whimpered repeatedly, “Please, you can’t do this!  Please, PLEASE!”  His heels dug into the concrete as his trainer tugged forcefully on his leash.  As the boy’s unwilling body resisted the pull, his trainer yanked hard, making the slave stumble and head for the ground hard, unable to catch himself with his hands bound behind his back.

 

Out of instinct, Brian stepped forward and caught the young, nude slave around the waist, saving him from crashing face first onto the cement floor.  The boy’s rescue wasn’t lost on him though as he beseeched his savior’s face.  “Help me,” the blonde cried to Brian, “Please help me.  You can’t let them do this to me, please.”

 

The slave’s body was roughly grabbed out of Brian’s arms by his trainer, giving Brian only enough time to take a sharp intake of breath to the slave’s request, but he did catch sight of the blonde’s blue eyes.  The eyes may have been puffy and bloodshot from crying at the moment, but none-the-less, they were hypnotizing.  And his skin had been… so smooth… flawless over his taunt belly.

 

“Thank you,” the blonde’s trainer greeted Brian with a laugh, “Buyers are never happy with broken merchandise.”  With a sharp turn of his body, the trainer’s demeanor immediately changed to deal with his slave.  “And YOU,” he rasped, taking hold of the slave’s collar in one hand and his naked cock in the other, “YOU will behave or I’ll be selling off a dickless slave.  YOU HEAR ME, BRAT?”  The man’s threat was accompanied by a harsh twist of the boy’s most likely unwillingly hard penis.

 

“No, please, no,” came the whispered response as body attached to this penis tried not to breathe… or move… or exist, “I’ll be good.  I’m sorry.  I promise I’ll be good now.  Please don’t do it.”

 

The trainer chuckled at the kid’s gullibility.  As if he’d ruin his own merchandise.  This pretty boy was going to sell for a mint.  There were many… many… slave owners out there who loved reluctant slaves, the sick bastards.  Especially when the reluctant slave was a virgin and untrained.

 

And that was it.  The blue-eyed beauty sucked in his bottom lip and followed through the crowd.  Brian watched the boy until he was out of sight, wincing along with the boy as interested men groped and fondled him.

 

“What’s his story?” came a question from an unknown man behind him.

 

“Oh, I guess he fought pretty hard coming into the arena.  Knocked over one of the buffet tables and everything,” came a response.  “Justin – page 8.  Hot but way too much for me to handle.  I like my boys with a little more manners.”

 

The original companion laughed, “Yeah, I hear you.  Doesn’t matter anyway.  That one has the Sap written all over him.  Poor fuck.”

 

As the men laughed and moved away, Brian felt his heart drop.  It’d be stupid and way too melodramatic for him to think, ‘There’s just something about that boy,’ but something really was bothering him about the whole situation.  The Sap would buy the young blonde?  The young blonde who just begged him to rescue him would be going home with one of the most indecent men Brian had ever met.  The sexual abuse and assault rumors surrounding the man went way beyond the ring of slavery.  Nope, that didn’t sit well with Brian at all.

 

As if on cue, Brian recognized the blonde slave’s voice squeak out a loud, “Ah, ah, AH!” and it wasn’t a pleasant sound.

 

Snapping his head towards the noise, Brian could only make out the slave’s face as his face twisted in agony from an unknown source.  Although he couldn’t make out what was happening to the boy through the dense crowd, Brian could make out the face of his tormentor and it was the Sap.  The Sap seemed to be more than enjoying the sounds coming from his bound captive.

 

“Oh, come on,” the Sap teased, “You can take it, can’t you?  If you can’t take what I’m doing now, what’re you going to do when I get you home?”

 

Nope.  Didn’t sit well with Brian at all.

 

“Mikey,” Brian nudged his friend who was still scribbling notes on his paper, “Mikey, where’s that brochure?”

 

“Huh?  Oh, here,” the shorter man responded, handing his friend the colorful booklet.

 

Quickly he opened the brochure, not even sure what he was looking for, but it was quite obvious once he got to the correct page.  The men had been talking about the boy’s ad, which was on page 8.  Quickly scanning through a few more pages, Brian reasoned that each slave up for auction had their own ad on their own page.  But he didn’t care about any of those, just the blonde, scared, reluctant, beautiful, blue-eyed boy.  Flipping back, he was greeted to the a picture of the blonde.  Obviously not happy with the situation, not even a photograph could hide the boy’s grief.  It was a full body shot, and although the slave had white briefs covering his hips and genitals, there was shame in his expression… and sadness… and betrayal… and utter despair.

 

“Justin,” Brian read aloud with a sad smile tugging his lips.   Then he studied the details of the column running perpendicular to the photo.

 

 

 

Name: Justin

 

Age: 18

 

Gender: Male

 

Height: 5 foot, 8 inches

 

Hair: Blonde

 

Eyes: Blue

 

Penis: 7.85 inches (erect)

 

Orientation: Gay

 

Training: Virgin

 

Starting Bid: $50,000

 

 

 

Brian let out a low whistle as he read the last number.  Well, it’s a good thing Kinnetik was doing well.  He may have never bought a slave before but he surely could afford one.  Ankd luckily he happened to know that he definitely rivaled the Sap in net worth.  Brian could win the auction, no question, if he chose to.  But was he willing to spend his hard earned money and take on the responsibility of a slave just to keep the blonde out of the Sap’s hands?  Or the hands of another cruel man as well, he supposed. With an offhanded shrug, he figured, why not?  He’d just find a nice owner and sell to him.  That way the boy was safe, Brian made back his money, and he could sleep at night with a clear conscience.  Perfect plan.

 

“Hey Mikey, I wanna buy that kid.”

 

“Okay, sure, just a sec,” Michael muttered before the statement sunk in.  His eyes rose to Brian’s face quickly, “Wait, what?”

 

“That kid,” Brian explained.  “The one that panicked and knocked over the table.  I wanna buy him.  How do I do that?”

 

“A slave?  Brian, you can’t!”

 

“I’m at a slave auction and I have money,” he stated.  “Why the fuck can’t I?”

 

“Because it’s wrong!”

 

“No,” Brian sighed.  “What’s wrong is letting the kid be bought and tortured by the Sap.  Now quit riding me and show me where to sign up.”

 

Michael shook his head rapidly, “No, I’m serious, Brian.  This is not shit you wanna get involved in.  I know it sounds simple but--”

 

“It IS simple, Mikey,” Brian sighed in exasperation.  “You worry too fucking much.  I’m gonna buy him and then resell him.  Done.”

 

“No, Brian, it doesn’t work like that.  Buying and immediately selling is illegal and you don’t want to draw attention to yourself.”

 

“Did you see him, Michael?  Did you look into his face?  The kid doesn’t stand a chance.”

 

Michael stopped for a moment to regard his friend’s statement, “I know, Brian… I saw him.  I see all of them.  But we can’t interfere.  It won’t help anything in the long run.  To help one of them, we need to help them all.  For now, we have to look at the bigger picture.”

 

Scanning the crowd, Brian realized he’d lost track of his boy.  “I’m doing it, Mikey.  He’s on page 8.  Does that mean he’s the eighth to come up for auction?”

 

“I don’t have time to explain the complications in this, Brian, but you have to trust me.”

 

“Would you shut the fuck up and help me?  I think they’re starting soon,” Brian responded, well beyond listening to reason as he took the shorter man by his shoulders.  “I’m doing this, Mikey.  Now is the kid eighth up on the chopping block?  What type of tender do they take?  Cash, credit, check, what?”

 

Biting at his lower lip, Michael swallowed and realized Brian’s mind was made up.  “They take cash or credit.  You’ll allowed to take your slave home as long as you put down 25% of the agreed upon payment and return with the remaining 75% by the end of the week.”

 

Doing a quick financial check in his head, Brian nodded and pulled out his cell phone to send a quick text to Ted, his accountant.  ‘Need access to substantial funds immediately – upwards of a $100 thousand – cash… maybe more.’  As he clicked the SEND button, he had to chuckle.  Theodore was going to fucking freak.  “Done,” he responded to Michael.

 

“Fuck, Brian, this is a bad idea.”

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

For someone with no emotional attachment to the kid, Brian was a nervous wreck.  They were on auction number 6 right now and Brian could feel his hands twitching and sweating as the highest bidder won the current slave up on stage.  What the FUCK was he doing?  Buying a slave?  Mikey was right; this was crazy, but he couldn’t help himself.  Even now, seeing the blonde, blue-eyed slave…  ‘Justin,’ he reminded himself, ‘His name is Justin.’  Even now, seeing Justin standing off to the side of the platform stage set up for the event, Brian knew the kid had to go home with him.  Justin was stood as still as a statue as he awaited his fate.  His long, golden hair fell into in face as he kept his head lowered, eyes closed and jaw clenched in denial and fear, hands still bound behind his back and his cock still… erect.  Brian shook his head in amazement.  They must give the slaves some strong drugs because not even Brian could keep it up this long and he was well known for his stamina.  Even from where Brian was standing, he could see Justin’s chest rising and falling in labored breaths as he fought to remain calm, obviously heeding his trainer’s threat.

 

“Brave kid,” Brian muttered.

 

“What?” Mikey snarked.  “No, you know what?  It doesn’t matter.  I can’t believe we’re doing this.”

 

“Calm down, Mikey.”  Brian fiddled with his bidding number card in his hands.  Michael’s constant yammering did nothing to calm his nerves.  What if he lost?  Well, he couldn’t lose.  His cell phone buzzed in his pocket.

 

It was a text from Theodore.  ‘You’re all set,’ it read, ‘you crazy bastard.’

 

“Perfect.”

 

And just in time as he watched Justin be drug up on stage.  The trainer brought the boy to a spot marked with an X on the floor in painters tape near the front, center of the stage.  There Justin was placed, still bound and still on a leash, but his trainer stepped back, giving Justin the full 6 feet of slack.  The blonde simply stood stalk still though, head still down, eyes still closed, cock STILL hard, and his hair falling over his forehead in such an endearing manner that even now Brian had the urge to brush it back to tuck behind the boy’s ear.

 

Brian was knocked out of his reverie as the auctioneer read Justin’s description from a note card in front of him.  “And here we have another fine item, boys.  18 year old Justin.  Blonde hair, blue eyes, slim stature, and a cock long enough and thick enough to make you question the boy’s 5’8’’ height.”

 

There were chuckles among the crowd, making Brian’s blood boil.  There was no reason for these slugs to laugh at his boy.  His boy?  Brian groaned at himself and rolled his eyes.  He was so fucked.

 

“Born a free man and indentured by his father at the age of 15, Justin is a verified virgin and completely untouched and untrained.  We left all the dirty work for you fine folks with this one.”  Again, laughs.  Again, Brian’s blood boiled.  “We’ll be starting the bidding at $50,000 on this one,” the auctioneer finished, giving Justin’s ass a slap for good measure.  Other than a sharp gasp, Justin gave no response.  “Oh, and boys,” the auctioneer added, spinning the blonde 180 degrees, “Seriously, check out this ass.  Have you ever seen a more enticing bubble butt?”

 

And again with chuckling and raising blood pressure as Brian fought for control as the boy was humiliated.  This wasn’t okay.

 

“I need 50!  Do I hear 50!” the bidding started in the auctioneer’s now familiar chant.

 

“60!”

 

“I hear 60! Do I hear 65!”

 

Brian snapped into action, raising his number high.  “65!” he shouted.

 

And the bidding went into a frenzy at this point.  Brian bid and bid, the price nearing $90,000 at this point, but the way Justin nervously stomped his feet as the war continued edged him on.  The boy had yet to open his eyes and look at the crowd, but Brian knew he was aware of his surroundings and obviously didn’t like the high attention he was given as the number came up to $110,000.

 

“150 thousand dollars!” came a voice… a voice that Brian recognized as the Sap’s and it was now he realized the Sap hadn’t bid until this time.  The arena momentarily went silent at the $40,000 bid jump, but Brian wasted no time.

 

“160!” he responded, all the attention now focused on the two men.  Fuck, Ted was going to kill him.

 

The Sap laughed and yelled, “175!”

 

As the auctioneer regained his footing, his chant started again.  “I’ve got 175!  Do I hear 180?”

 

Brian huffed, pride and nerves getting the best of him.  “200, you mother fucker!”  Whether the comment was directed at the Sap or the auctioneer, no one would ever know.

 

“200 fucking thousand dollars?!” Michael exclaimed beside him.  “Are you fucking crazy, Brian?!”

 

“250!” the Sap shouted.  “Back off, Kinney!  I decided on this one a long time ago!”

 

Brian felt the tendons in his neck ready to snap, “300!”

 

“Brian, stop!” Michael pleaded, realizing they were drawing way too much attention to themselves.  The audience was captivated by the personal spin put on the bidding between these two men.

 

“350!”

 

But Brian was on a roll and the auctioneer didn’t even have time to ask for a higher bid.  “500 thousand fucking dollars!” he bellowed, becoming desperate.

 

“Going once, going twice… SOLD to the passionate man wanting to spend his life savings!” the auctioneer joked, banging his gavel on the podium.  The sound made Justin jump, the only movement he’d made in minutes, eyes still squeezed tightly shut.

 

“FUCK!” the Sap sounded, throwing his number paddle to the ground in frustration.  He hated to lose.

 

Brian on the other hand was in shock.  He’d just bought a slave… for 500 thousand fucking dollars.  He was a slave owner, officially, and he’d just pissed a wealthy, well-known slave trader whose club he frequented often and knew him by name.  What the FUCK did he just do?  But then all at once, he let out a deep breath.  No apologies.  No regrets.  And as he looked towards the stage, he didn’t have a regret…  There was Justin, still terrified, still blonde, still naked, and still with eyes closed and hair falling onto his forehead… and still hard, of course.

 

“Open your eyes,” Brian pleaded softly as his new possession was led off stage.  He just wanted Justin to see him, hopefully remember that he was the same man to caught him in the arena and heard his pleas.  “Look at me.”

 

But it was a lost cause.  Justin had obviously retreated inside himself and the men’s eyes never met.

 

“For fuck’s sake, Brian,” Michael sighed in resignation.  “Come on,” he took hold of Brian’s arm as the auction for slave number 9 began, “Let’s head to the collection booth and get the fuck out of here.  I have no idea what the fuck we’re gonna do now.”

***

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the QAF characters.  All QAF aspects belong to Showtime and Cowlip.  However all original characters and the plot itself belongs to me!  Thanks!

***

 

Chapter Two: Coming Home

 

Brian was genuinely surprised to see his hands shaking as he handed the cashier his limitless credit card, ready to charge $125,000 to the balance. He made a mental note to call the credit card company so they knew it wasn’t a fraudulent charge.  This was definitely the most he’d charged to a piece of plastic in his life.  The money didn’t make him nervous as he was worth millions, if only in net worth.  His hands were shaking because momentarily the crew would be bringing him and Michael to a private room to meet his new slave, followed closely by the boy’s former trainer to answer any questions.

 

In the ten minutes it had taken Brian and Michael to move from their spot on the bidding floor to the collection booth, a realization had set in for Brian.  A slave was now in his possession.  On impulse, he’d bought a slave for hundreds of thousands of dollars because… because…  Well, that was the problem; he wasn’t sure why he did it.  He’d wanted to save the boy from Gary Saperstein, that was for sure.  And the kid was hot, so there was that.  But besides those two facts, Brian had no logical explanation for why he’d take on something so over his head.

 

Michael watched as Brian thought through his actions.  “Brian,” he started, interrupting his thoughts.  “Brian, what’s done is done.  Sign the credit card bill,” he insisted, tapping his finger on the slip of paper the cashier had set in front of him.

 

With little more than a nod, Brian picked up the offered pen and scrawled his signature.

 

“Okay,” one of the crew stepped up, motioning with his arm to follow.  “This way, Mr. Kinney.  Your slave will meet you in room number 15.”

 

Quickly, Brian shook his head of any remaining thoughts and nodded to the crew.  “Fabulous.”

 

***

 

As the two friends seated themselves on the small sofa provided in room 15, Brian noticed the two way mirror on a fall wall.  Besides the sage green walls of the 10 by 10 foot room, the couch and large reflective surface were the only furnishings offered.  “Someone watching us?”

 

“Uh, yeah,” Michael replied tightly, still holding a grudge against the fact that his best friend was now a slave owner, good intentions or not.  “There’s absolutely NO funny stuff allowed in these rooms.  They don’t want the owners testing their merchandise on their watch, if you know what I mean…  They ARE watching you, so watch what you do, and more importantly, what you SAY, Brian.  Remember the bigger picture.”

 

With a deep breath which was let out through his nose, Brian nodded.  He opened his mouth to ask more about the proper way to respond to this situation, but he didn’t have time.  The door suddenly opened, revealing the same crew member who had led them back, though that man quickly stepped aside to make room for the heavy set, older man behind him, and in his hand was the end of a leash.

 

“On your knees now, boy,” the man stated gruffly, giving a soft but demanding tug on the lead.

 

And just like that, Justin stumbled into the room, falling on his knees at Brian’s feet.  Still beautiful, still scared, and still bound… and though Brian couldn’t see much of Justin’s body or face in the curled position the boy had taken, he’d be willing to bet that the boy’s eyes were still closed.

 

“Uncuff him,” Brian deadpanned, more than done with this display.  “Stand him up and uncuff him and get him some fucking clothes.  Now.”

 

“Brian!” Michael warned, and then turned to the trainer.  “I must apologize for my friend’s behavior.  This is his first slave and he’s still not super familiar with the policy of the auction.  And he’s pretty… uh… possessive.  Doesn’t want his slave exposed, you know?  The jealous type.”

 

The trainer looked suspiciously between the two men for a moment before accepting the explanation as truth.  “Alright,” he allowed, scratching his neck through his beard, “let me tell you a couple things then, Mr. Kinney.  We don’t supply the slave with any clothes.  I assume your friend here must not have assumed you would bid today or he’d have told you to bring a cloak.  However, we do sell some cloaks in the gift shop, if you’re interested…  Overpriced, obviously, but they’ll do the trick.”

 

“Mikey,” Brian nodded towards the door, “buy us one, will you?”

 

Michael gave Brian a sharp look, “In a minute, Brian.  There’s other things you need to know.”

 

“And the boy can stand and be released, if you want, but it’s not for me to tell him anymore.  Congrats, Mr. Kinney,” the man continued, holding out the end of the leash to Brian, “He’s all yours.  I’m simply here to answer questions.”

 

There was a tense moment of hesitation as Brian stared at the lead being offered to him.  Black nylon, nothing special, leading to a black nylon collar around the boy’s neck.  In slow motion, Brian watched his own hand grasp the leash, realizing that it wasn’t just a piece of nylon he was accepting, but the responsibility of someone’s life with it.  His eyes traveled down the strap slowly, finally disappearing beneath Justin’s lowered head.

 

“Go ahead, Brian,” Michael encouraged, trying to help Brian along.  He may not own any slaves himself, but he did know a thing or two about the dealings one had when purchasing them.  “Talk to him.  Tell him… tell him what he needs to do… and ask any questions you have so we can leave.”

 

Brian rolled his lips into his mouth, wondering the best way to approach the situation.  He knew he was being watched and judged, and he didn’t want to bring too much suspicion to their situation.  They weren’t doing anything illegal, per se, but they couldn’t be seen as too soft with their new purchase either or there’d be talk.

 

Kneeling to the slave’s level, Brian used a gentle finger to tilt the boy’s chin up.  “Justin,” he spoke gently but firmly, “Justin, look at me.”

 

Surprised to be addressed by his given name and the gentleness in which he was touched, Justin’s eyes slowly opened.  Blinking to help his eyes adjust, he gasped and Brian watched the recognition flash in his expression… but it was quickly replaced again by fear and trepidation.  Just because he recognized Brian as the man who stopped him from falling doesn’t mean the man was here to help him.  For all Justin knew, Brian had simply wanted Justin as his slave.

 

“Justin,” he tried again, wiping a stray tear from the boy’s face, “Stand up for me.  Let’s get the handcuffs off you, okay?”

 

Not having much of a choice either way, the blonde gave a small nod and rose unsteadily to his feet.

 

“Keys?” Brian asked expectantly, not really giving a shit one way or another what the trainer thought.  He was a fucking nobody.

 

“Ah, just be careful, Mr. Kinney,” the trainer replied, placing the cuff’s keys in Brian’s outstretched hand, “He’s a feisty one…  Been that way since I got him 3 years ago.”

 

Not taking the bait, Brian concentrated on Justin.  He didn’t need the trainer to tell him Justin’s life story.  The kid could do that himself in his own time.  “Mikey?  A cloak?” he requested again, rather impatiently.

 

“Alright fine, Asshole,” his friend gave in, “Just don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone, will you?”  And with a dismissive wave of his hand, he left the room in search of a covering for the boy.

 

“Don’t run,” Brian warned the slave, moving behind Justin to unlock his hands.

 

The boy whimpered as he felt his wrists be released and his hands falling free.  “Fuck,” he clipped out painfully, pulling his arms to his front for the first time in hours, examining the harsh bruises on his wrists.  “Fuck,” he started again, this time more for emotional reasons and not being able to stop his eyes welling with tears again.  Sick and tired of being so weak and helpless, Justin clawed at his eyes, attempting to stop the tears and sharp sobs making their way up his throat.

 

Letting a breath out through his lips, Brian hesitantly reached out to his new possession.  He could only imagine what inner turmoil the boy was having.  “Hey, hey,” he tried, acting against his nature by comforting the slave.  His warm hand firmly clasped the back of the boy’s neck, gently pulling Justin’s face towards his shoulder as his other hand urged the boy by the small of his back.  “Shh, calm down.  You’re okay.”

 

Justin seemed to be allowing this first contact until his body was perhaps 6 inches away from Brian.  It was at this point that Justin almost violently jumped back with a loud shout, his hands immediately going to sooth his genitals.  However, unfortunately for the boy, that touch also made it worse, so he forced his hands to remain on his thighs as his dick throbbed, breathing deeply through his teeth and staring unfocused at the wall behind Brian.

 

Brian’s mouth fell open, realizing the boy was in pain.  “What the fuck?” Brian questioned, turning a cutting gaze to the trainer, “What the fuck is wrong with him?”

 

“Nothing, Mr. Kinney,” came a chuckled reply, “Just needs a little… uh… relief… so to speak.”

 

Michael took this moment to walk back into the room, black cloak in hand.  “You owe me $120 bucks--”

 

“Relief where?  In his dick?  Why the fuck does it hurt?  You gave him drugs, right?  When do the drugs wear off?”

 

Again a soft laugh, “Wear off?  Mr. Kinney, the drugs won’t wear off until you… um… say so… so to speak.”

 

Immediately picking up on the conversation, Michael interrupted.  “I’ll explain in the car, Brian.  Here,” he held out the cloak, “cover your boy and let’s go.”

 

“WHY does it HURT?” Brian asked again.

 

The trainer graced Brian with a slightly embarrassed gaze, but he knew it was his job to answer any questions the new owner had.  “Well… Mr. Kinney… haven’t you ever had a case of blue balls?  Imagine that over the course of hours and drug induced.”

 

With a frustrated shake of his head, Brian shook out the cloak and wrapped it around Justin’s body.  His hazel eyes saddened as Justin greedily wrapped the cloth around his body.  “Are you cold?” he asked, voice emotionless, and he was slightly put off by the sharp glare the blonde gave him in return.

 

“What the fuck do you think?” the plush pink lips snarled.

 

Brian’s lips curled in slight amusement as he opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by a sudden cry from Justin’s lips as his trainer forcefully grabbed a fistful of his hair, forcefully snapping his head back.

 

“Remember your place, brat!” the trainer spit.

 

Brian grabbed the trainer’s wrist painfully by its pressure point, watching his fingers fall free of Justin’s hair.  “As you said, he’s all mine now, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do my disciplining for me.”  Then he let the scum’s wrist fall.

 

With a gentle shake of his hand and wrist, the trainer nodded quickly.  “Right, Mr. Kinney.  Sorry.  Just habit, you know?  And trust you me, you’ll be doing a whole lot of disciplining.  This blondie has a mouth on him.  And a word to the wise, I’ve come to know from experience that physical scolding is about the only thing he’ll respond to… spanking works well.  Kid’s got a sensitive ass.”  A sick smile came to his mouth, reaching out to pinch the boy’s left butt cheek, “Don’t you, brat?  I’ll kinda miss that, to be honest.”

 

Brian felt his blood pressure rise and fought against his instinct to react violently, especially watching the shame develop on his slave’s face.  The kid’s cheeks blushed red as he squirmed from the trainer’s provoking hand, once again closing his eyes.

 

Michael kept a focused eye on Brian’s face, watching his friend’s patience run out.  “We’d better go,” he spoke lowly, “Brian, grab your merchandise.  Let’s go.  The car’s waiting.”

 

Mentally gathering his emotions, Brian reluctantly once again picked up the end of Justin’s leash.  He didn’t want to keep the boy restrained, but he also didn’t want the boy to bolt.  That wouldn’t do anyone any good.  “I won’t pull so long as you walk with us nicely.  Got it?”

 

Eyes still sealed, once again fighting between a temper tantrum and an ugly, emotional break down, the boy whispered, “Yes, Master,” just as he was trained.

 

“Good boy,” the kid’s former keeper responded proudly, beaming at Brian and Michael as he pat Justin’s head.

 

“Let’s go, let’s go,” Michael urged, tugging Brian out the door before things got physical.

 

The two men rushed their newly purchased blonde through the arena and out of the building to the front curb where their Limo was waiting.  While such extravagant means of travel weren’t their norm (at least not Michael’s – Brian did sometimes take a town car but not usually a full Limousine), to fit the profile as wealthy slave traders, the transportation was necessary for the image.  Now both Brian and Michael were glad they had it available as it would give them both a chance to regain their mental footing on the ride back.

 

Pushing the cloaked boy into the vehicle first, the other two climbed in after, Michael last and closing the door behind them.  He quickly gave the address to Brian’s loft before sliding up the privacy glass separating the front and the back of the car.

 

“We’re going to the loft?” Brian questioned, keeping an eye on the huddled Justin out of the corner of his eye as the car pulled out.

 

“Um, yeah, Brian, we are,” Michael’s tone was accusatory, “We have to make your new COMPANION at home.  Where the fuck else do you think he’s going to stay?”

 

“Not at the loft,” Brian muttered.  “I’ll figure it out later.  As least we can get settled there.”

 

“You could just let me go,” the huddled mass of cloth and blonde hair hissed, the sarcasm dripping from his tone.

 

Michael and Brian turned to him in surprise.  “Leave it to you to buy the mouthiest fucking slave in history,” Michael sighed.

 

Completely ignoring his friend’s remark, Brian rotated his body to face the boy.  “What was that?”

 

Not having realized he’d be confronted with a response, Justin tensed, pulling his cloak more tightly around him and pulling his feet up onto the leather seat.  “Nothing, Master.”

 

Lips pushed out slightly as his eye brows rose, Brian took a deep breath.  The kid was obviously having a hard time responding to this situation, not knowing whether to submit or rebel.  “Look, quit with the ‘Master’ shit, okay?  You don’t have to--”

 

“Brian…” came a low warning from a certain Italian, “Yes, he does.  You’re his master and he needs to address you as such.”

 

A look of puzzlement came over Brian’s face, “Michael--”

 

“Brian, leave it.  Let’s talk about something else until we get home.”  Before Brian could argue, Michael guided the conversation, “Let’s talk about how to make your slave more comfortable.”

 

“Mikey, what the fuck are you talking about?”

 

“The drugs that the boy was given this morning won’t wear off until he ejaculates,” Michael explained, trying to keep the blush out of his cheeks.  “But the problem is that he’s been… um… erect for so long that it will be somewhat painful to achieve this… ejaculation.”

 

“Out with it, Mikey,” Brian’s face was bored, “So the kid won’t go soft until he cums and it might hurt.  And?”

 

He was greeted with a meaningful glare, Michael having been told the remedy to a drugged slave many times from CAST members.  It was a common topic, as the practice of forcing a slave to keep a chemically produced hard-on was considered barbaric among slavery’s critics.  The shorter man tried to keep his explanation scientific instead of crude, “The manipulation of his… penis… may not be overly pleasant for him at the moment.  He may not be able to make himself continue his masturbation until the end.  So you… You may have to ‘help him,’ so to speak, as his Master.”

 

“Touch me and I’ll fucking KILL YOU!” came an outburst, and both brunet’s heads turned in shock to the young slave.

 

“It doesn’t seem that he wants my ‘help,’ Michael,” Brian responded, amusement tugging at his lips.

 

Michael wasn’t phased, directing an unfeeling gaze to Brian.  “That’s besides the point, Brian.  What your slave ‘wants’ doesn’t mean anything… ever.”

 

At this statement, Brian felt his chest tighten as the meaning of Michael’s words sunk in.  His face fell emotionless as it often did when he struggled against his feelings.

 

“You’re in over your head, Brian,” Michael explained, “I tried to warn you, but now we have to deal with it.”

 

It was at that moment that Brian’s blue-eyed beauty decided to plead his case again.  He was incredibly sharp and while he’d been quiet for the majority of the ride, he was following the conversation.  “Please,” he swallowed, moving his eyes between both men, “Please, I’ll… I’ll do anything… I can clean and I’m a good cook and I can… can…”

 

“Boy--”

 

“No, really!  I can cook and clean and… and…” the blonde shook his head as he struggled to come up with other domestic duties, “Well, I can… I can… just PLEASE… please don’t… don’t… touch… I mean, don’t force me to--”

 

“You’ll do as your told, Boy,” Michael replied.  “Stop begging.  You’ll do as your master tells you.”

 

Justin hiccupped and bit his bottom lip as it quivered, “Yes, sir.”

 

“Michael, what the fuck--”

 

“We’ve arrived, Gentlemen,” came the driver’s voice over the intercom as the car rolled to a stop.

 

“Let’s get upstairs,” Michael sighed sadly.  He knew exactly how harsh he sounded, “We’ve got a lot to talk about, Brian.  And just wait until Ma hears what you’ve done.”

 

***

 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the QAF characters.  All QAF aspects belong to Showtime and Cowlip.  However all original characters and the plot itself belongs to me!  Thanks!

 

***

 

Chapter Three: An Explanation

 

The elevator took three times longer than usual… but that may just be because Brian could hear Debbie screaming at Mikey through his cell phone, and he was unsure whether he’d been frustrated or relieved that he couldn’t make out the woman’s words.

 

“I know, Ma,” Michael insisted into the phone.  “I know.  I’ll tell him.  Okay, hold on.”  His hand momentarily covered the mouth piece, “Ma wants to know when she can come over and talk about this.”

 

“A week from next Thursday.”

 

“Haha, very funny, asshole.  Now really, when?”

 

The elevator came to a halt on the top floor and Brian took the opportunity to escape the situation by pulling the door open and stepping out.  Michael followed, still chirping on the phone, but Justin lingered, nervously taking in his surroundings.

 

“Anytime is fine, Ma.  You know Brian.  I gotta go.  Yes, I’ll do my best to explain.”  And he flipped the phone shut, knowing his mother was probably still talking.

 

“You coming?” Brian asked, looking between both his friend and his slave.

 

A sad laugh left Justin’s mouth, knowing that wasn’t an actual question but a demand.  There was no choice for him but to follow.  His feet moved him cautiously into the hallway, watching his master approach the large metal door.  Before his brain caught up with his mouth, the blonde let out a scared gasp, the door reminding him of the entrances to dungeons he’d seen in medieval movies.

 

Both brunets spun in confusion as Justin tried to calm his nerves, but he kept himself plastered to the far wall.  Shrugging, Brian unlocked his apartment, sliding the door open and pausing to deactivate the alarm.

 

Seeing as the slave wasn’t coming willingly, Michael firmly wrapped his hand around Justin’s forearm.  He kept his face kind but was careful to not seem concerned, “Come on, boy.”

 

“He’ll come, Mikey.  Let him go,” Brian drawled, already standing in the kitchen.

 

Michael decided against Brian’s advice and pulled the boy into the apartment, closing the door behind them.  “Set the alarm, Brian.”

 

“Christ, Mikey,” Brian barked, pulling three waters from the fridge, “Can’t I get a fucking drink before you turn back into an asshole?”

 

“Asshole?  I’m not the asshole!  You’re the asshole, asshole!  You’re the asshole who bought a slave without knowing any of the consequences and now you have us waltz in here like everything is hunky-dory?” Michael threw his arms in the air, “Fuck, Brian!  This is a big deal!  ACT like it!”

 

“I know it’s a big deal, Mikey,” Brian stated lowly, tossing him an unopened bottle of water.  “Did you ever think,” he began, taking slow, measured steps toward his new ward, “that my nonchalance wasn’t for MY benefit?”  He spoke calmly, eyes taking in the closed posture of the blonde kid who he couldn’t seem to leave behind.  “Are you thirsty?” he implored, offering a bottle to Justin as he neared.

 

Justin’s heart rate increased the closer Brian came to his personal space.  He knew what came next.  The training he’d received may not have been sexual in nature, but he knew the score and he understood why he’d been kept a virgin.  Warily, he eyed the bottle and took a step back only to run out of room, feeling the cold steel of the door through his cloak at his back.

 

“N-no,” he shook his head and swallowed, “No thank you…” then he remembered, “…Master.”  His eyes again wandered back to the offered water bottle, flinching a little.

 

Brows furrowed in confusion, Brian eyed the drink in his hand.  “It’s just water.  Would you like something else?  I have juice.  Or beer, but I don’t know how alcohol would mix with the drugs--”

 

“No!” Justin exclaimed, “Please!  N-no drugs, Master.  They’re unnecessary.  Please, I promise!”

 

About done with beating around the bush, Brian let out a long sigh.  “Okay, first thing’s first, stop calling--”

 

Seeing his friend about to correct the boy again, Michael stepped in, “Brian, why don’t you tell Justin what it is he can do right now… so we can speak privately.”

 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Michael?”

 

“No.”

 

“Alright, fine.”  Patience was a thing of the past at the moment as Brian closed the distance between him and the slave, shoving the water into Justin’s hand.  “Here.  Drink.  Then we’ll talk.”

 

Justin pressed himself against the door, holding the bottle at arm’s length.  “No, I’m fine, Master, really!  Please!”

 

“What the fuck is your problem?”

 

“Brian?”

 

“WHAT?” came a snap, annoyed hazel eyes turning to meet Michael’s brown ones.

 

“You need to stop for a moment and look at this situation from Justin’s point of view,” he shorter man explained, trying to keep the peace without revealing too much to the young boy.  This situation had to be approached cautiously.  “You went from offering the boy something to drink, which he refused… to talking about beer and drugs… and now you’re demanding he drink the water despite his protests.”  After a moment of silence, he added, “This is not your world, Brian.”

 

Brian took a moment to digest what his friend was saying.  Water… drugs… demand…  Somehow it didn’t click, “What?”

 

“How do you think his trainer administered the drugs this morning?”

 

Oh.  “Oh.”

 

Justin took a shaky breath, unsure about the dynamic between these two men.  On one hand, his master seemed to know little about how to approach his new merchandise… and on the other hand, his bossy friend seemed to want nothing to do with the blonde himself but seemed to know exactly where Justin’s thoughts were flying off to.

 

Taking the momentary silence to regroup, Brian slowly turned his body back towards the boy.  “Listen,” he started, taking the bottle of water back from Justin’s panicked hand.  “Are you listening?” he insisted, not wanting to repeat himself.  Gradually, his slave’s eyes met his own and Brian hated the fear he saw floating the blue orbs.  “You don’t have to drink this water,” he explained, shaking the bottle lightly, “but you should.  It’s been a long day for you and I’m sure you’re dehydrated.  There are no drugs in the water, purely H2O, but if you don’t believe me, check the seal.  It’s still factory sealed.  And there are plenty more unopened bottles of water in the fridge for whenever you’re thirsty.  Drug free, I promise.”  He waited until Justin’s face relaxed before offering the bottle again, “Look for yourself.  I’m not trying to drug you.”

 

With a trembling breath, Justin grasped the bottle once again.  Trying to keep his nervous hand from losing its grip, he inspected the seal, seeing his master was telling the truth.  “Thank you, Master,” Justin whispered, struggling only slightly while getting the bottle opened.  The water was gone in under fifteen seconds as Justin realized his master was correct.  It’d been a long day and the water was more than welcomed by his body.  However, just because this man offered him some water didn’t mean the boy didn’t still know what was expected of him.

 

“C-can… can I expect you to be this kind…” he paused, fighting moisture springing to his eyes, “in everything that you do?”

 

Michael gasped, understanding immediately, “Brian, don’t--”

 

“What’re you talking about?”

 

Justin tried again, biting his bottom lip.  “Will you be kind… in every aspect of your ownership?”

 

“Oh Christ,” Brian moaned in disgust, “are you asking me if I’m into rough sex?”

 

The boy jumped, “Well--”

 

“Okay, that’s enough!” Michael shouted.  “Brian, find something for your slave to do.  Now.”

 

This situation was giving Brian a headache and he squeezed the bridge of nose tightly.  “Yeah, okay,” he moved towards the stairs, “this way kid.”

 

Justin took a few steps forward to follow while peering around Brian to note their destination.  He was greeted to a large, dark bed in the background.  A whimpered, “Fuck,” escaped the blonde’s lips, seeing his new master motioning him quickly towards a bedroom.  He knew it wouldn’t do any good to refuse, but his feet wouldn’t cooperate with his brain to move him towards the stairs.  “I-I-I,” his panicked mouth stuttered, breaths becoming short and ragged.  The air burned in his lungs as he struggled for the right thing to say, “Master, please, I need… time…  PLEASE… I understand what you want and I know it’s your right to take it, but please just give me a little time…”  The calm finally broke and he sobbed, “I can’t do this, please!  Just let me, let me, let me…”

 

Michael shut his eyes against the boy’s cries, having seen this firsthand far too often and having heard accounts worse than this through the mouths of CAST members countless times.  It never became any less painful… especially when he couldn’t help.

 

“What the FUCK are you CRYING ABOUT?” Brian asked loudly, his voice echoing off the high ceilings as he stalked back into the room.  Seeing his slave about to have a panic attack, he grabbed the kid by both shoulders.  “Calm down.  What’s the problem?”

 

“You’re leading him to the bedroom, Brian,” Michael rationalized.  “He’s a slave.  He’s a virgin slave.”

 

Oh.  “Oh.”

 

The brief conversation between his two captors did nothing to calm Justin as he shook from head to toe.  He fought against the urge to remove Brian’s hands from his shoulders and continued to search for a way out, “I’m a good cook--”

 

“You mentioned that,” Brian chuckled, rolling his eyes.  “Listen…”

 

The blonde shook his head, “J-just a little while… I need… a few days… to make it good for you--”

 

“Justin--”

 

“I’ll prepare myself for it really well and it’ll be… great…” he sucked in air, not believing his own words, “It’ll be so good for you, Master.”

 

“JUSTIN,” the older man tried again, “I’m not taking you into the bedroom to fuck you.  I thought you might want to take a shower… ALONE,” he clarified, “and the bathroom is through the bedroom.  Nothing is going to happen.”

 

“…right now,” Michael added from the background, “Nothing is going to happen… right now.”

 

Brian’s arms slipped from Justin’s body in shock as the slave nodded slowly.  The blonde’s fingers clumsily wiped his eyes as he got his breathing under control, “Okay… okay…”

 

Brian’s angry, puzzled eyes turned to Michael, “Won’t happen right now?”

 

“Not right now,” Michael confirmed.  “Brian, you’re in over your head.  This is not your world.”

 

“I’ll show you the shower.”  He was talking to Justin, but his eyes never left Michael’s, sending angry embers burning into Michaels retinas.

 

Michael took a deep lungful of air as he watched Brian lead the boy through the bedroom to the bathroom.  “This conversation isn’t going to go well,” he decided, wishing his friend could have taken the time to listen to him in the first place.

 

***

 

“Here,” Brian snapped, finding it hard to keep the frustration from his voice.  He shoved a fluffy white towel into Justin’s arms from the linen closet.  “Everything else you need should be in the shower already.  Do you want a washcloth?” he asked, opening the shower door.  Realizing Justin was distracted, he waved a hand in front of the blonde’s face.  “Do you want to shave?  Hey, are you listening to me?”

 

But Justin wasn’t listening to him.  He was too preoccupied with the towel now in his hands, allowing his finger tips to caress the fabric.  Pressing his palm into the folded cloth, he relished the fact that there was flex to the towel, that when he pushed down, the towel fibers sprung back into place.  It’d been years since he’d seen a hygiene item this soft and even longer since it’d been given to him for his use.  Biting the inside of his lip, the young slave glanced into the shower stall and had to stop himself from jumping in joy.  The shower was clean and tiled and had a wide stainless steel shower head, one which could be taken off the hook to use the spray to clean someone’s body.  Longingly, his eyes took in each of the soaps Brian had provided, wondering what each smelled like and if they had different uses.  His hands itched to dig through and find conditioner for his hair; it’d been a very long time since he’d been allowed more than one cheap soap, meant for use on every part of his body.  He eyed the lotion sitting on the countertop and wanted to cry in relief, remembering the dry and cracked skin on his knees and elbows.

 

“Excuse me!  Are you listening?”

 

That got Justin’s attention, his gaze immediately finding Brian’s face… and Brian’s face fell at Justin’s expression.  The anticipation in the boy’s expression told stories from the last three years of his captivity and the older man didn’t like it.

 

And that’s when Justin’s heart fell.  All at once, the boy realized that although all these products were available didn’t mean he would be given permission to use them.  His eyes drifted shut for a moment as he gathered his courage, “Master?”

 

Brian sighed, giving up for the moment.  “Yes?”

 

“Can I use these things?  What do I need to do for these privileges?”

 

The older man’s jaw fell open, “Uh… what…?  I mean, nothing.  You can just use them.  Whenever you want.”

 

“Really?” the boy breathed, hoping against logic.  His trainer had assured him that nothing would be free, “You don’t… want… anything… from me?”  He hated to even ask, but if this was a test and he didn’t pass, the punishment could well be worse than the original task.

 

“No,” Brian stated, his no nonsense side coming out, “What I want is for you to take a shower, wash your hair, and… take care of yourself.”

 

The wheels in the boy’s head were definitely turning, but Brian could tell he wasn’t connecting the dots.  So with a quick jolt of his head, Brian gestured towards the blonde’s crotch, still covered by the cloak.  “I want you to masturbate.  I assume you’re still hard under there.”

 

The slave’s blue eyes grew large as he battled the blood rushing to his cheeks.  “Masturbate?”  With all the commotion, he’d all but forgotten about his painful problem.

 

“Yeah, you know,” Brian smiled easily, “Make yourself cum.  Take your time.  We won’t hear you.”  And with that, the man left, shutting the door behind him and leaving Justin to stare after him in wonder.  Not only was he allowed to use this shower and the towel and all the products in the bathroom, but he still had his virginity and his master had given him permission to pleasure himself… for himself…  This day just wasn’t turning out anywhere close to how Justin imagined it would… and that thought brought a small smile to Justin’s lips as he stripped the cloak from his body and headed into the shower.

 

***

 

Michael braced himself for a confrontation with Brian now that he didn’t have Justin as an audience.  Brian sauntered back into the kitchen, silently picking up his forgotten water bottle from the counter and drinking it all in three large gulps.  He waited until he heard the shower running in the bathroom.  “Okay, Mikey,” he began, tone short and clipped, “you wanna tell me what the fuck is going on with you?”

 

“With me?” Michael shouted, “How about the fuck is going on with you?  You buy a fucking slave?  Do you have any idea what you’ve gotten yourself into?”

 

“I thought so, but I guess not.  Apparently you do and you’ve got your panties all in a twist about it, so enlighten me, Mikey,” he sneered.  “Why exactly is it a problem for you that I bought the kid so I could sell him to someone better than the Sap?”

 

Michael took a long moment to rein in his anger and decide how to approach this topic.  “Buying a slave just to sell him is illegal, Brian.  It’s called ‘slave swindling’ and it’s illegal in order to protect legal slave traders, owners, and trainers from money being made off of their hard work.”

 

“Hard work?” Brian laughed, not a trace of humor in his voice.  “They make their living by holding humans captive and forcing them into sex.  What work have they done?”

 

“From their point of view, they train the slaves, teach them manners and discipline.  Many slave owners appreciate a well-mannered slave.  For others, their work comes in teaching the slaves… other skills.”

 

“Other skills,” Brian nodded, “Like how to give the best head?”

 

Michael rubbed the back of his neck.  This wasn’t a comfortable conversation for him, especially with someone as nonchalant about sex as his best friend.  He’d have to just spit it out.  “Kinda, Brian…  I mean… some slaves come with specific skills or appeals. Some don’t gag.  Some do double penetration.  Some slaves take punishment for pleasure more easily.”

 

“Meaning the slave doesn’t put up a fuss when he’s beaten?” Brian hissed.  “Christ, Mikey…”

 

“Why do you think the Sap was so interested in Justin?  Justin’s appeal came in the fact that he’s an untrained virgin.  That’s his skill.  That’s his appeal.”

 

“No shit, Michael.  I think I gathered that.”

 

“Look, I’m not saying I agree with it--”

 

“Oh no?” Brian questioned, eye brows raised.  “You could have fooled me… and Justin… with the attitude you gave him on the ride home.  He’s scared SHITLESS, Michael, and YOU told him to call me ‘Master’?  Who are you?”

 

“It’s for his own good,” Michael answered sadly, voice soft.  “You’re not doing him any favors by treating him like a free man.”

 

Feeling his shoulders tense, Brian dissected Michael’s words in his head.  “What exactly do you mean?  Spell it out for me.”

 

Michael heart went out for his friend, knowing what he would say wouldn’t be easy to hear.  “This is not your world, Brian.”

 

An eye roll, “So I’ve heard.”

 

“You want to sell him?  To someone other than the Sap?”

 

“Obviously.”

 

“Then you wait your mandatory ninety days--”

 

“Ninety fucking DAYS?”

 

“--and you sell him to a NICE slave owner, and what do you think your new, nice slave owner is going to expect from Justin?  A challenging game of chess?”  He allowed that to sink into Brian’s sense of reason before continuing.  “You’re not doing him ANY favors by treating him differently than his next owner, Brian.  You’ll only get his hopes up.”

 

The blood drained from Brain’s face as he digested this information, his usually tanned complexion going pale.  Suddenly, things didn’t seem as simple as Brian had viewed the situation before.  Michael had a point… a big, ugly, scary point.

 

“There are no nice slave owners,” Michael reasoned, “Even the nice slave owners are still just warped people who hold human beings hostage for their own pleasure… and see nothing wrong with it.  The new owner you find may be more decent than the Sap… but no different.  I’m sorry, Brian.  I know you were only trying to help the boy.”

 

Both hands scrubbed down Brian’s face as he turned towards the liquor cabinet.  It was becoming more and more apparent by the second that his good friend Jim Beam would be needed to get through the rest of the day.  Pouring himself a double and downing it quickly, he could still hear the water running and was reminded that very nearby was a beautiful, 18 year old, blonde, blue-eyed, virgin slave masturbating in in his shower.  Ruefully he thought that Justin was probably the ONLY virgin to ever use his shower… or hell, even pass through his bedroom.  And that virgin had a hopeless future, filled with pain and loneliness, things Brian knew an awful lot about.  There seemed no way out.

 

“So what do I do?” Brian muttered, tracing the edge of his empty glass with his fingertip.

 

The shorter man let out a drawn out sigh, “You… do exactly as you planned, Brian.  You resell him when you can.”

 

“But you JUST said that there’s no one--”

 

“And there’s not…  But we’ll find him… the kindest man we can, okay?”

 

There really wasn’t another choice, but damn if Brian would admit defeat.  “We’ll see.”

 

“Brian…” Michael replied, drifting off.  He knew Brian’s demeanor by now and understood the man needed time to ponder the situation.  “Okay… well… listen…  It’s very important that you treat Justin as a slave while he’s in your care.  Do you understand?”

 

Brian answered with a pursing of his lips, his hazel eyes wide and exaggerated by the lowering of his chin in a sharp glare.

 

Michael flinched, “I know, I know, it sounds awful.”

 

“It IS awful, Michael.”

 

“I KNOW… but you have to… for Justin’s good.  He’s not getting out of this, Brian!” Michael exclaimed, his voice rising in pitch, “Justin will be LONG DEAD by the time slavery is abolished and you can’t FREE HIM.  He will NEVER be free.”  He took a moment, shaking his head in defeat, “I wish there was a way, but there’s not.  Justin is a slave and always will be until the day he dies.  You heard some of the things he said to you today, about being cold and you letting him go and touching him…  That attitude has to stop.  If he’d been bought by anyone else today, those comments would have gotten him punished, and depending on his master’s particular form of justice, he could have been beaten badly… or… forced to do other things.  He’s fighting, Brian, rebelling, and he can’t.  It’ll only get him in trouble.  The sooner he accepts his life, the better… for HIM.”

 

The thought of someone abusing the small blonde made Brian’s head spin in rage.  He could picture welt marks on the pale, smooth skin of Justin’s back.  No matter how hard he fought the images, Brian kept seeing snapshots of Justin in chains, begging for forgiveness, being tied against pillars for punishment, demands being made for sexual favors in penance… and little by little, that small rebellious spark that Brian had found amusing would be extinguished by fear and pain… and who knows what would be left of Justin then?

 

“What if…” Brian cleared his throat, “What if I just… keep him?”

 

“What?” Michael’s jaw dropped, “Brian, no.  Just no.”

 

“Why not?  What’s wrong with that?  I could give him a life.”

 

“No, you couldn’t.  He’d still be a slave.  He can never have a job, start a family… fall in love…  Shit, Brian, he can’t even legally walk the street by himself and even if he could, he’d still have to act subservient to every free man and woman he meets.  Honestly, giving him little bits of leniency here and there would more than likely just frustrate him, especially given his reluctance to accept his role, and lead to more trouble.  No, the best thing you can do is fuck him and sell him.”

 

Brian’s head snapped in Michael’s direction fast enough to give him whiplash, “Ex-fucking-cuse me?  What did you say?”

 

“What?” Michael was wide-eyed, “What did I say?”

 

“You expect me to fuck him?”

 

Michael was honestly confused, “Well… yeah… you kinda have to.  It’s your responsibility.  I didn’t think that’d be an issue, considering your lifestyle.”

 

“You’d better explain yourself quickly,” Brian warned, his grip tightening on his glass.  Noticing his actions, he decided now would be a great time for another double.

 

Watching Brian closely, Mikey realized how his statement could be construed.  “Okay, look,” he began, biting his lip nervously, “I know how that must sound, but again, this isn’t your world.”

 

“I swear to God, Mikey.  If you don’t--”

 

“Alright, alright!” the shorter man threw his hands up in mock surrender, “Okay!  Listen.  Your ninety days are up and you go to sell him, right?  What kind of slave owner to do you think you’ll attract with a pretty, little, virgin slave?  I’m guessing not the type you want.”

 

Brian opened his mouth to respond, but Michael wasn’t done.

 

“Not to mention the suspicion that would surround the situation if you owned him for a full three months and never used him for his intended purpose.”

 

“Intended purpose?” the taller man scoffed, feeling the sting of his second drink hitting his throat, “You’re sick, Mikey.”

 

“I’m not.  I’m realistic,” Michael tried, “The best thing you can do for Justin… the NICEST thing you can do for Justin… is to treat him as a slave…  I’m not asking you to be cruel, Brian, in fact I’m asking you to be kind… but you have to show him his role and take his virginity…  Do it gently, but… better you do it than someone else.”

 

“And just how exactly do you expect me to do that?” Brian chuckled, “I’m not sure if you noticed, but he was pretty adamant about not being touched.”

 

Michael paused, clenching and unclenching his jaw, and he contemplated taking a few steps away from his friend before speaking but instead held his ground.  “I meant what I told you, Brian.  It’s not about what he wants.  What Justin wants doesn’t matter.”

 

The loft was deathly quiet, the only sound being the muffled rainfall coming from the shower.  Brian could feel the vein throbbing in his forehead as his hands balled into fists.  “I think you should go, Michael.”

 

“This is not your world, Brian,” a soft voice reminded.  “It’s not a nice world, but we’re in it now and we have to deal with the consequences.”

 

Brian’s temper broke through at this point.  “FUCK their world, MIKEY!” he angry man bellowed, “In MY world, I don’t rape 18 year old kids!”

 

With a sad sigh, Michael nodded, “I know… but Justin isn’t part of your world.  He’s not a kid and it’s not rape.  He’s a slave and you’re his master.”

 

“Fuck you, Mikey,” Brian hissed, backing away, afraid of assaulting his smaller friend.  “Get the fuck out of my face.”

 

“It’s not rape, Brian,” he reasoned, “You can’t rape a slave.  It’s legally impossible.  The closest you can come to raping a slave is called ‘trespassing’ where a free man or woman has sex with a slave without the consent of the owner.  But you’re Justin’s owner…  You legally can’t rape him.  It’s just your right.”

 

“And I can’t morally have this conversation!” came a screamed reply… then his voice lowered dangerously, “I’m warning you, Michael.  You need to leave.”

 

With a nod, Michael took quick steps towards the door.  “Justin’s been in the shower a long time,” he commented, “Did you tell him to jerk off?”

 

Still keeping a safe distance, Brian answered, “Maybe.  What’s it to you?”

 

“Seems to me he may be having some difficulty… just as I said,” Michael slid open the loft’s door and moved to the hallway, “I wasn’t making shit up, Brian.  You may have to help him.”

 

Brian took measured steps to the door, trying to keep his cool.  “Fuck you, Mikey,” he smirked, hand on the door handle.

 

“I know this all seems harsh, Brian, but it’s all the truth.  Ma will tell you the same thing.  This isn’t your world…  This isn’t OUR world.”

 

“You sure it’s not your world, Mikey?” Brian snickered, “Because you seem awful comfortable in it.”

 

And it was at that point, watching the door slam shut in his face, that Michael was glad he’d took care to keep his hand out of the door jam.  “Jesus, this isn’t going to be easy.”

 

Meanwhile, on the other side of the door, Brian looked toward his bathroom, picturing a soapy, frustrated Justin inside his shower.  He pushed what Michael had suggested out of his mind, concentrating on one thing at a time, moment to moment.  His thoughts wandered and he wondered if Justin did need some help?  As Michael stated, Brian was his master and it was his responsibility to take care of the boy.  With one hand on his hip and the other running through his hair, the brunet realized he had to check on his slave… and he wondered where that would lead them.  Brian felt a deep pit of shame deep in his gut, upset that he needed to reach down and adjust himself through his jeans.  The thought of Justin as a slave didn’t turn him on, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t attracted to the boy.  The blonde was gorgeous with his silky hair and pale skin and striking eyes, and his innocence combined with his rebellious streak was deadly in its sex appeal.  And just the implication of someone taking advantage of that boy’s innocence made Brian feel capable of violent outbursts… and that concerned him.  Oh Christ…  What the fuck had he gotten himself into?  With a sharp breath and a shake of his head, Brian turned towards the stairs leading to his slave.

 

***

 

 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the QAF characters.  All QAF aspects belong to Showtime and Cowlip.  However all original characters and the plot itself belongs to me!  Thanks!

 

***

 

 

***

 

 

 

Chapter Four: Alone at Last

 

 

 

            Knocking on his own bathroom door seemed odd, but Brian figured he owed the blonde boy that much decency before barging in on him, so he rapped his knuckles against the dark oak door a few times.  He chuckled humorlessly as he thought of what Mikey might say about the situation, probably rambling something off about how slaves aren’t given privacy and therefore he shouldn’t give Justin any either.  Yeah, well, fuck Mikey and his advice.  The problem wasn’t the knocking.  The problem was that even as he knocked, he knew Justin wouldn’t hear him over the water running.  Not wanting to frighten the boy, Brian carefully jiggled the door handle to find it unlocked and gently pushed the door open, inhaling the humidity in the room.

 

            The mist in the air made it somewhat difficult to see but as Brian slowly moved toward the shower door, he noticed that the blonde didn’t seem to be showering at all.  At first glance, the stall was empty but upon further inspection, a wet, blonde blob became visible on the shower floor, pressed against the a tiled corner with knees drawn up tightly.

 

            “Justin?” Brian asked softly as he slid the door open.

 

            The young slave jumped at the sound of his master’s voice, lifting his head from where it’d been hiding in his knees.  “You wanted me clean,” he whispered, tears again evident in his voice.

 

            “What?” the older man questioned, not sure he’d even heard the boy correctly.  Brian would take the snappy, rebellious Justin over the emotional one any day.  What the fuck did he have to do to get the boy to stop breaking out in sobs every two minutes?

 

            “You… you wanted me clean, right?” Justin hushed, trying to make sense of his situation.  “You told me to take a shower… because you wanted me clean… and you knew I couldn’t… wouldn’t be able to… couldn’t…?”

 

            Brian sighed and ran a hand through his hair, pulling it lightly.  “Justin, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.  Are you done showering?”

 

            “I’m clean, Master,” Justin confirmed.

 

            Reaching up to turn off the water, Brian tried again.  “That’s not what I asked.  I asked… are you done?  Or do you need more time?”

 

            Justin lowered his head again, “No, I’m clean.”

 

            Brian bit back a groan and went for a different approach, squatting down to the boy’s level.  “Justin, look at me.”  He waited until their eyes met to continue, “Did you make yourself cum?  Or do you want more time?”

 

            Dropping Brian’s gaze, an embarrassed blush rose to Justin’s cheeks as he fought to keep his composure, “No… No, I… can’t.”

 

            “Why not?  Did you try?”

 

            “Yes, I tried,” came a sniffle, his words seeming even more humiliating as they echoed off the walls of the bathroom.  “I can’t, Master.  It hurts too much.”

 

            “Let me see,” Brian replied, setting his hand on Justin’s knee to move his legs apart.

 

            Justin didn’t think but just reacted, grabbing Brian’s wrist painfully and flinging it against the shower wall.  “Don’t FUCKING touch me!” he shouted, “Get your hands off of me!”

 

            “Ow, you little shit!” Brian exclaimed, shaking his arm lightly, “I’m not gonna fucking hurt you! Christ!”

 

            All at once, Justin realized what had just happened as he crawled a foot toward Brian on his hands and knees.  “I’m so sorry, Master.  I didn’t mean--  I didn’t--” he apologized, the blood draining from his face.  “I wasn’t thinking, Master.  I’m just so--  I don’t know--  Please forgive me.  Please, I’m sorry--”

 

            “Justin, stop.”

 

            “NO, Master, please, don’t--”

 

            “Justin, calm the fuck down.  You’re not in trouble.  You’re just annoying as shit.”

 

            Taking a deep breath, the blonde tried to calm himself.  There wasn’t really an explanation for his rebellious attitude besides just instinct because it wasn’t as though he didn’t know what was expected of him.  And it wasn’t as though he didn’t know he could be severely punished for insubordination.  But he couldn’t help it.  The thought of hands groping him, especially right now when it was so painful to the touch and after hours of random men stimulating him…  Try as hard as he might, a life of slavery just wouldn’t settle into his brain.  But he knew he had to get used to it.  There was no way out.  He understood this clearly, even as his heart fought against the knowledge.  He’d just have to make the best of it, and that included reining in his attitude and going with the flow…  Going with his master’s wishes, whatever they may be.

 

However, while he was relieved to hear that his master wouldn’t be disciplining him for his actions, he was slightly confused by his emotional response to hearing Brian call him ‘annoying.’  Honestly, being annoying was small potatoes compared to his current situation, but he still didn’t like that Brian found him… ‘annoying.’  How fucked up was that?  Here he was, a sex slave, life of indentured servitude and all that jazz, and Justin was worried about his master ‘liking’ him.  Wow.

 

“T-thank you, Master.  I’ll try to be better,” he promised, wiping his eyes again.

 

“And for Christ’s sake, would you stop crying?” Brian requested as gently as possible, knowing his tone probably still came out harsh.  “I’m not going to hurt you.  I promise, kid.”

 

“I’m trying, Master,” he whimpered, “I’m just…”

 

“Scared,” the older man finished, “Yeah, I know.  But you don’t have to be.”  Wincing slightly as he stood from his awkward position, he turned and grabbed the bath towel from the vanity counter.  “Here,” he shook out the towel, holding it open for his slave, “Let’s get you out of there.”

 

With a nervous nod, Justin stood as well, climbing off his knees and stepping into the waiting towel.  Biting his lip, the boy argued with his body, begging his skin not to flinch away from Brian’s touch as the towel was wrapped around his shoulders.  That was part of this, he reminded himself.  His master touching him was part of the gig, so flinching was not an option, even if his skin crawled at the thought of being intimate with this man he’d never met before today.  To Justin’s relief, Brian stepped away and allowed the blonde to wrap the towel securely around his body, feeling his shoulders drop some of the tension as his master took another step back.

 

Somehow being naked alone with Brian made Justin feel even more anxious than he had being naked at the auction.  At least at the auction, the only things the men could do legally was touch…  Here, with his new master, anything could happen… at any time… without warning… and it’d be acceptable and legal.  He had no say.  The boy let out a sobbing gasp at his thoughts, wrapping the fluffy towel tighter around his body but he immediately regretted the action as the fibers brushed against his genitals.

 

“AH!” he cried, bending at the waist to hold the material away from his crotch.  Trying to concentrate on breathing, the boy wasn’t sure of his next move.  The pain was getting unbearable and his dick constantly throbbed, even when he wasn’t touching it.  And the thought of anyone touching the appendage brought him to tears, which is exactly what happened now, as he felt water again slipping from his eyes.  His master wouldn’t be pleased by this, he knew, which made him more upset, bringing soft sobs to accompany the new tears.

 

Brian searched his brain for what to do, hands on his hips as he watched his boy in pain.  “Justin,” he began, “I know you’re scared… and I know it hurts… but come into the bedroom and let me see if I can help you.”

 

“Please,” Justin pleaded from his current hunched position, not sure if he was begging for help or to just be left alone.

 

“I promise I won’t touch you without your permission, okay?” the brunet explained, feeling a bit of satisfaction knowing he was acting directly against Mikey’s directions.  Fuck Mikey.  “I promise, Justin.  Let’s just talk for a minute.”  He stepped further away from his slave, not wanting the boy to feel pressured as he motioned out of the door to the bedroom.

 

Permission?  Justin laughed tightly, understanding there wasn’t really a reason for him to think about whether or not to heed his master’s words, seeing as he had no choice.  Justin straightened to standing, but still, he held the towel away from the front of his body, awkwardly stumbling past Brian to the bedroom.  There he clawed at his tears, awaiting further instruction and again knowing he had no real say in what happened next.

 

While Justin struggled with his reactions to the given moment, Brian was at a loss.  He wanted to help the boy…  He was obviously in pain and both the boy’s trainer and Michael had told him that the drugs wouldn’t just ‘wear off.’  The drugs needed to be expelled.  The man rolled his lips into his mouth as his eyes closed, planning his next moves carefully.  How could be treat the boy as a slave without forcing him into anything?  As much as he hated what Michael told him, some of it did make sense.  When it came time to sell Justin, selling a mouthy virgin wouldn’t attract a nice, older gentleman with a gentle touch.  It would attract… the Sap… and his friends.  However, there were two things Brian knew for sure: 1) Justin needed to be treated as a slave, for his own safety in the future, and 2) there was absolutely NO way he’d be forcing this kid into anything he wasn’t ready for…  Whether or not the law agreed with him, Brian was no rapist and any slave of his would never come to that fate.

 

And these two aspects of his ownership led him to think of other necessities.  The kid had to call him ‘Master.’  Great.  Fantastic.  Annoying but doable.  No more backtalk, no matter how amusing Brian found it.  The kid had to start becoming comfortable with his new life, meaning no more sassing or rebelling, and no more crying about his fate.  There was no reason to be scared as long as he… as he… behaved, the older man reasoned, feeling his stomach drop at the thought.  Jesus Christ, what the fuck had he gotten himself into?  Thinking about how to brainwash an 18 year old kid into accepting the fact that he’d have every choice about his fate taken away from him until the day he died?  It just didn’t sit well with him.  It just wasn’t right.

 

He’d met slaves before, everyone had, but those slaves never had the look in their eyes that Justin did.  Justin’s clear, blue eyes showed fear.  Rebellion.  Hopelessness.  Pain and betrayal.  Maybe the slaves Brian had met in the past were just too far gone to show those emotions.  Or maybe those emotions never existed for them or maybe they just hid them well, but the thought of Justin mindlessly going through life taking orders and emotionlessly sucking his future master’s cock made his stomach lurch.  What the fuck was he doing?  No, he needed to think about this more before he decided what action to take with the boy.  For now, one thing at a time.

 

Brian shook his head, leading his brain back to the present.  His slave was watching him intently, his expression filled with trepidation and curiosity.  And at that, the man smirked.  Curiosity.  That he could work with.  “Sit on the bed,” he requested, knowing to Justin it’d sound like an order… but maybe that’s what the kid needed.  He’d come here expecting to be treated as a slave, so maybe that’s what Brian should do…  Take the confusion out of the equation and treat Justin as he’d been trained… but gently.  “Towel off, please.”

 

Blue eyes wide with sudden panic, Justin sat, fingering the fluffy material around his waist.  “B-but--”

 

“Justin,” Brian cautioned.

 

“Please Master, I can’t-- I’m not ready t-to--”

 

“Boy,” he warned again, remembering Michael’s use of the word.  And surprisingly enough, he watched as a change came over Justin’s face at the term.  The term ‘boy’ must mean serious business in the slave world.  He heart sank as Justin’s lip trembled, but he kept his face neutral.

 

“Yes, Master,” Justin whispered, sucking in his bottom lip.  Shyly, little by little, he unwrapped the white material from his body, allowing his shaking hands to drop the towel to the floor.  Awkwardly, the boy squirmed on the bed, feeling his master’s eyes on him as he fought against trying to cover his nakedness with his arms and hands.  A shiver ran through him, although it wasn’t from the cold; in fact, he felt very warm.

 

“Fuck,” Brian hissed, starting at his boy’s body, specifically his penis.  “Jesus Christ, how can you even walk?  I told you to jack off, not rub yourself raw.”

 

Cheeks heated with shame, Justin huffed and closed his eyes.  “I’m sorry, Master.  It just hurt so much that every time I started, I had to stop and then start all over again and it just kept… kept… getting worse and worse… and I couldn’t--”

 

Brian rolled his eyes as the boy became more upset, although his eye roll wasn’t so much out of irritation as it was pity.  The blonde’s cock could only be described as painful.  The organ was thick and protruding with no give to the red shaft (definitely not its natural color).  The mushrooming head was purple and inflamed, and not an inch of skin didn’t look raw and irritated.  Painful, just painful.  The only saving grace Brian could see is that it didn’t look like any of the skin was open, just tender.

 

“Okay, okay, okay,” Brian sighed, gingerly sitting next to the boy.  “Justin, calm down.  We’ll take care of this.”

 

Again, without his brain’s permission, Justin jumped back away from Brian.  “No, please, don’t touch it.  It hurts so bad and it’ll just make it worse, Master, please.”

 

Pretending not to be affected by Justin’s reaction, Brian gently grabbed the boy’s arm, pulling him back to sit in front of him.  “I won’t touch you without permission, Justin,” he reminded.  At hearing the boy’s sniffle and scoff of disbelief, he added, “I promised, didn’t I?  Let’s just talk.”

 

“Are you… playing a game?” the boy questioned.

 

What?  “What?”

 

“The permission thing,” he explained, “Do you… want me to give you permission… t-to… touch me?  Like a ‘Yes’ game?”

 

What?  “What?”

 

“My trainer… said that sometimes my master would want to play games… like the ‘Yes’ game,” Justin clarified, although the boy’s willingness to play such a game seemed unlikely.  “If… we play, Master, will you leave… m-my… um… it… alone?”

 

What the fuck was this kid talking about?  “Jesus Christ, your trainer taught you sex games?”

 

The boy was puzzled with Brian’s lack of understanding, sitting on the bed and wiggling like a worm on a hook.  “Well, he never actually played them with me because I’m… I’m… a virgin,” he whispered, glancing towards the ceiling, “but… he said I needed to know how to play… so we’d role play.”

 

Brian was mentally adding items to the list of things to ask Michael and Debbie, as much as he didn’t want to.  “No,” Brian shook his head, flabbergasted by Justin’s ability to go from scared of being raped, to rebelliously snapping at him, to accepting his sex slave status by asking his master about sex games… all in the blink of an eye.  The boy was giving him mental whiplash.  “No, Justin,” he breathed, “No, we’re not playing a ‘Yes’ game… or any other game…  I don’t think those games have anything to do with permission.”

 

“But you don’t need permission,” the boy replied sharply, his confusion turning into frustration.  “I don’t understand what you mean by permission!  I don’t know what you want!” he exclaimed, dropping his head into his hands.  “Just please tell me what you want,” he begged, voice muffled by his palms, “I can’t guess anymore.  I get that I have to do this, but I don’t know what you want.  Or… c-can’t you please just wait?  A few days?  Please?”

 

Watching the naked blonde crying in front of him, Brian realized Mikey had been right.  Justin needed to be treated like a slave, at least for now.  Despite any rebellion the boy still held onto from his former life, the last three years had trained him to respond to a certain type of interaction and anything else was confusing for him… even if the whole situation frightened him and wasn’t the life he wanted.  Okay, he’d work with it.  There still wasn’t a chance Brian would take Justin against his will, but he could play he character… kindly.

 

“Justin, hey,” he started, laying a soothing hand on the side of Justin’s face, ignoring the moisture still dripping slowly from the boy’s hair.  The fingers of his other hand cupped the slave’s chin, pulling his face up to gaze into his eyes.  “It’s okay, Justin,” he soothed, “Everything is okay.  I know you’re scared and I know you’re confused.  But remember… I may be your first master, but you’re my first slave too.  I don’t know what I’m doing anymore than you do,” Brian confessed, smiling sadly, “I’m sure you caught my friend saying that once or twice or a thousand times.”  To his surprise, Brian watched the boy’s lips curl into a slight smile.  “But I need you to understand something, kid,” he continued, watching Justin’s pupils dilate in alarm, but he quickly explained, “No, don’t be scared.  You need to understand that I won’t hurt you and you don’t have to fear me.  I mean it, Justin.  I’m not going to force you into anything.  I’m not saying nothing will happen, but I’m not into raping teenage boys.  I prefer my partners willing.”

 

Justin gasped at the mention of rape, snapping back from Brian’s grasp.  Despite his fear of the word and understanding Brian’s meaning, he still questioned his master’s motives.  “Please don’t play games with me.  Just tell me what’s going on.”

 

“I’m trying, kid.  Listen to me.”

 

“But you can’t rape me!  I mean… What I mean is… I mean… you’re my master and there’s no such thing as--”

 

“Maybe not legally, Justin,” Brian snapped, patience running thin, “But mentally… emotionally… as a person, Justin,” -- Fuck, Mikey was going to kill him -- “As a person, Justin, yes, you can be raped and I won’t stand for that… not by my hand or anyone else’s.”

 

“But you’re my master.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“But you’re my master.”

 

“YES.  And I won’t force you.  But you’ll be safe with me… just like you were today.”

 

Justin breathed heavily as he processed the information being thrown at him.  Instead of questioning again, he simply waiting for his master to continue.

 

“Listen to me.  Are you listening?”

 

“Yes, Master,” the slave sniffled.

 

The sound was so pitiful, Brian couldn’t stop himself from placing his hand back on Justin’s cheek, letting his fingers wipe away a few tear drops.  “At the auction today… do you remember the bidding war for you…?  Between me and another man…?”  He waited for the recognition in Justin’s eyes before resuming.  “The other man bidding on you is named Gary Saperstein.  He owns a nightclub here in Pittsburg and he’s… well, he’s…” Brian attempted, trying to sugarcoat the details while still being clear, “He wouldn’t have treated you well.  You would have been--  You would have been forced into things very quickly and honestly, if he’d won, there’s no way you’d still be a virgin right now.”

 

Justin’s face drained of its color, his jaw open, a choked sound forcing its way up his throat.  “B-but--”

 

“But he didn’t win,” Brian cut in, giving Justin’s head a little jolt with his hand, not wanting his focus stuck there.  “I won.  Me.  Brian Kinney.  I had the highest bid and I took you home.”

 

The boy nodded, lips drawn tightly together.

 

“I bought you… not really because I wanted a slave” -- Shit, Mikey was going to KILL HIM -- “but because you don’t deserve… that fate.  You’re a slave, Justin, and I can’t do anything about that, but you’re also a human being who doesn’t deserve to be put into the hands of a mother fucker like the Sap.  You understand?”

 

After a moment, Justin responded, “Not really.”

 

“The Sap would have forced you to do… a lot of things… but I won’t.  I’m not him.  I’m not going to force you into anything,” he tried again, “I am your master.  You are my slave.  That’s the law.  I’m in charge.  But that doesn’t mean you need to fear me… just respect me, I suppose, and it doesn’t mean that I’m going to force you into things you don’t want to do and it ALSO means that I’m never going to purposely confuse you or play mind games or trick you… or… drug you,” he added, remembering the water bottle chaos.

 

Justin’s mind was battling itself.  After all, if Brian was telling the truth, Justin wanted to cry in relief, allowing himself to feel safe for the first time in over three years.  However, if Brian was lying… testing his new slave or trying to break him… which he knew wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, he was fucked and even more so than before.  A lustful master was one thing.  But a manipulative master was dangerous and he’d heard stories about masters who would trick their slaves just for fun, just for the opportunity to dish out justice in the form of punishment.  He studied Brian’s face closely, especially his hazel eyes, searching for truth or lies, whichever appeared first.  But as he felt the softness of Brian’s palm caress his cheek, Justin perceived nothing but truth.  “So… what do you want?” he wondered softly.

 

Brian’s eyebrows rose as he sat back, seeing his slave believed him… at least for now.  He’d hit his limit for deep conversations for day, never having been good at expressing himself through conversation…  Through sex however…

 

“Well, we need to figure out how to get rid of that fabulously painful hard-on you have there, kid,” he laughed.

 

Immediately, Justin cringed into the mattress, pitifully searching for a blanket to cover himself.

 

Brian pretended not to notice, keeping his gaze steadily on the boy’s face.  “The drugs won’t wear off.  You need to cum, even if it hurts, and it won’t go away or feel better until you do,” he stated, wanting there to be no doubt in the blonde brain about what needed to happen.  “So the question is, do you want to keep trying yourself?  Or would you like some… help?”

 

“NO!”

 

“Justin--”

 

“No, please, you said you wouldn’t--”

 

Done with having the same argument, Brian pressed his lips to Justin’s, easily shutting the kid up.

 

Justin gasped into his master’s mouth, eyes wide and unseeing.  His master was kissing him… lips soft and gentle and… fresh and sweet and minty… and… he found himself responding, his eyes drifting closed and hand coming up to slide through Brian’s hair.  Justin hadn’t been kissed in so long, not since he’d been ripped from his former life.  “Mmm,” came a breathy response, starting to pant slightly.  He may have been unsure about his master’s words, but his body knew it’d been aroused for hours and saw an escape from its torment…  After a moment, he felt Brian pressing lightly on his shoulder and torso, pushing him back on the bed… and he panicked.  In a flash, Justin was reminded that he hadn’t asked for the hands on his body, and that the man kissing him was still his master…  This wasn’t something he’d asked for.  This wasn’t something he wanted… at least not entirely… so he shoved back with a yelp.

 

Brian gave a shocked squawk as the kiss ended abruptly.  “Christ, Justin!” he yelled, “What the fuck is your problem?”

 

“You said you wouldn’t f-force me!” Justin exclaimed wildly, “You said--”

 

“You KISSED me BACK!” Brian defended himself, “I wasn’t forcing you to do shit!”

 

“You were pushing me back on the bed and--”

 

Brian grabbed Justin’s chin a bit more forcefully than needed, “Listen to me, you little shit.  You’re not going to get off on your own.  Let me help you.  You might even enjoy it.”

 

“I don’t want your help.”

 

“You don’t THINK you want my help, but you don’t even know what I’m offering.”

 

“I don’t want it.”

 

“Why?  Am I not hot enough for you?” Brian laughed, sarcasm thickening his tone.

 

But the blonde didn’t know how to respond to that.  “I… I don’t know.”

 

“How do you not know?” the older man chuckled at the absurdity of this conversation, “You either find me attractive… or you don’t… and if you don’t, you’re in the minority.”

 

The boy sighed and bit his lip, “Attractiveness… isn’t really something I took into account, you know?  I mean, does it really matter now cute a person is if they’re forcing you into sex everyday?  How do you find someone attractive who could do that to you?”

 

That struck Brian speechless.  He hadn’t thought about it that way.  It really didn’t matter if Justin’s master was handsome.  At the end of the day, ugly or beautiful, the man still owned him.  Brian felt another case of mental whiplash as Justin was transformed back into a normal person with thoughts and feelings outside of fear and questions.  “Um… but I’m not forcing you into anything.”

 

“You were pushing me back onto the bed.”

 

“You were kissing me back.”

 

Justin’s fingers touched his lips, remember the experience.  Yeah, he had been kissing Brian back… which made him take a moment to regard his master physically.  He knew without a doubt that the reason he’d been able to kiss Brian back was because of his kindness and not his looks, but still…  Now that he gave Brian a thorough once over, he was surprised by his master’s physical attributes.  The hazel eyes that were Justin’s only glimpse into Brian’s thoughts were large and round, going a shade or two darker when he was upset, and lighter and greener when he was amused or calm… like now… standing out boldly against his tanned complexion.  Cheekbones high and sharp, like his chin, framing in his long, proportioned nose.  The color of Brian’s lips took on a natural raspberry hue that the boy hadn’t seen before, perfect for lips so defined, and scarily sexy when forming a smirk… as they were now.  And Justin had to smile a bit at his dark, bushy eyebrows, just beneath his chestnut hair, neatly trimmed and tamed, but none-the-less bushy… but they fit him… gave him character and framed his eyes that gave his entire soul an outlet to the outside world.  All in all… yeah, Justin would say his master was… hot.  No, his master was gorgeous and if he were a free man, Brian would definitely be the type of man he’d stalk around the city until the man gave him a second glance.  At that thought, Justin blushed a deep red and averted his eyes.  He’d meant to also grade Brian’s body, but that would obviously have to wait until he got a hold of himself.

 

Brian rolled his lips into his mouth, trying to hold in a laugh.  He’d been watching Justin’s expression as the boy looked him over, staring at his face but oblivious to Brian’s reaction.  While many would call him arrogant, Brian preferred to think of himself as realistic… and he knew he was beautiful… and he knew the affect his appearance had on people and it obviously had the same affect on his little slave.

 

“Let me help you, Justin,” Brian requested quietly, letting his tongue sneak out to lick his lips.

 

It was at this point in their short relationship that Justin realized his master did have a manipulative side and it came in the form of sex.  Of course he didn’t want to force Justin into anything.  The man obviously didn’t think he’d have to force the boy into anything.  And maybe he was right, Justin relented, watching Brian’s tongue carefully.  However, he winced slightly as he felt his body reacting to Brian’s ministrations, his blood rushing to his already hard cock.  Fuck, he needed to get off.  “W-what’re you offering?”

 

“A blowjob,” Brian responded, his confidence obvious.

 

“A… blowjob?” Justin squeaked, not sure if he’d heard in right.  He’d been expecting Brian to suggest a good, old, ‘taking of his virginity’ to help him rid himself of the drugs.  Not a blowjob… which would suggest Brian got nothing out of the deal.  “Why a blowjob?”

 

“Well…” Brian started, “a blowjob is going to be a lot more comfortable than a hand job.  I mean, if your hand hurts and you can feel exactly what you’re doing, there’s no reason to think my hand would feel any better, even with ungodly amounts of lube.”

 

Justin blushed at Brian’s blunt explanation.

 

“Plus… you look pretty sore down there and I think a blow would be much more soothing.”

 

The boy didn’t respond, not knowing what to say or what to ask.

 

Brian smiled slowly, “Listen, it’ll be soft, wet, and warm.  Sounds a lot better than skin on skin, right?  And it’ll be over quick.”

 

That got Justin’s attention, “Quick?  Why quick?”

 

Brian tried to keep a straight face, “You’re really a virgin, right?”

 

“Yes, of course.”

 

“Ever been given a blowjob?”

 

“No.”

 

Then Brian couldn’t hold in a chuckle, trying to muffle it with a cough.  “It’ll be quick,” he guaranteed.

 

Catching the meaning, the blonde again attempted to cover his body, feeling more exposed than before.

 

“No, no,” Brian snickered, “No, don’t be embarrassed.  In this case, that’s a very good thing.  We want this over quickly because it may not be overly pleasurable this time.”

 

“This time?”

 

The brunet didn’t answer the slave’s question, “Justin, let me help you.  I promise I’ll go slow and I promise you’ll feel better afterward.”

 

The blonde searched his master’s eyes again, seeking the right choice and finding nothing manipulative about this particular request.  “Okay,” he whispered nervously.

 

Finally.  “Okay,” Brian sighed, “Can I kiss you again?”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Okay,” the humored reply came from his master’s lips as they lowered to his own.  And then once again, Justin found himself lost in the sensations of their mouths.  It’d been a long, long time and he shuddered.

 

Brian took his time.  After all, he wasn’t the one who’d been hard all day, so if Justin could wait, so could he.  Besides, kissing the blonde wasn’t exactly a hardship, he thought, allowing his hand to caress the boy’s smooth stomach, despite the blonde’s initial flinch.  Slowly, as to not startle the boy, he began inching the boy onto his back, not stopping until Justin’s back gradually came to rest against his midnight blue sheets.  Then he pulled back to gaze at Justin’s face, internally chastising himself for noticing how bright the boy’s eyes stood out against the the cotton bed covering.  “You alright?”

 

“Yeah,” Justin answered shakily.  His body was at war with itself.  Although he’d been able to stop himself from pushing back as Brian lowered him to the bed, his mind was still caught between wanting a sexual encounter with this man and being ill at ease with the fact that he was willingly allowing his master to exploit him.  “What now?”

 

This kid was too much, Brian realized, hating that he found Justin’s actions adorable.  Those thoughts would never make it out of his mouth.  “Now?  Now… you relax… and I suck you off.”

 

Justin shuddered again, but this time it wasn’t from nerves but desire.  The expression of anticipation on Brian’s face was enough to make the young man start to pant.  He didn’t resist as Brian raised his arms above his head and instructed him to hold tight to the pillow, which he did.  He also didn’t resist as his master trailed two fingers down his body, chest to groin, leaving fire in their wake, as Brian slid himself down so his face was even with the boy’s cock.  Justin gasped loudly, feeling Brian’s breath cascading down his shaft, “Oh, fuck.”

 

Brian grinned.  Yeah, it’d be quick.  “Justin, look at me,” he requested, watching Justin fight the new sensations long enough to find his master’s face.  “Are you sure you want this?  I’m only doing it if you want this.”

 

Justin’s response wasn’t immediate, wishing he hadn’t been posed with the question.  Now it was up to him.  He did want this, he did, no question, but he didn’t want to have to admit it… not to his master and not to himself… but he was in too deep now.  “I want it,” he choked quietly.

 

With a soft snort of approval, Brian went to work.  He felt Justin tense and heard him whimper in discomfort as he grabbed the boy’s cock by the base, but ignored it, gently wrapping his lips around Justin’s head.

 

“Holy fucking-- SHIT!” the blonde shrieked, pillow clenched tightly in his fists.  His mouth fell open in a chant, “Master!  Master!”

 

Brian was momentarily taken off guard when Justin called out ‘Master,’ as he’d prefer to hear his actual name falling from the boy’s lips, but quickly got back on task.  Justin’s enthusiasm would have been enough to get him laughing under normal circumstances, but he reminded himself that the kid was overstimulated.

 

Justin, however, didn’t have room for conscious thought…  He had no room for thoughts other than, “Please… please…” not knowing if he was begging for more or less or if he was experiencing intense pleasure or pleasurable pain.  His hips rose instinctually as Brian’s tongue teased his tip, running circles around the edge as he sucked.  “I can’t… I can’t…”

 

Brian knew the skin of Justin’s dick was way too raw to enjoy any sliding motion up and down his shaft, so instead he went for a more direct route.  In one motion, the entirety of Justin’s cock was in his mouth and down his throat, allowing him to soothingly suckle the flesh with little movement, while rapidly swallowing against the boy’s swollen head.  Justin’s hips were being held tightly in his hands, preventing him from thrusting into his mouth.

 

Meanwhile, the boy had hardly enough time to process the change in position before he was cumming.  “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” he whimpered, shaking violently as his orgasm rolled over his body, ending in hot streams shooting down his master’s throat.  Unfortunately, he couldn’t even say he was enjoying himself.  The feelings were just too intense, caught somewhere between pleasure and pain, but he came hard and he came fast.  Small blessings.

 

“Stop, stop, stop!” Justin begged as his climax ended abruptly, hands moving down to grab Brian’s head, and he was ridiculously grateful when Brian pulled back quickly.  The pleasure/pain had immediately ended with his last stream of cum, making way for complete discomfort as his overworked organ rejected anymore stimulation.

 

Brian finished swallowing as he sat up, panting slightly and rotating his jaw, first clockwise and then counterclockwise.  “See?” he smirked, catching his breath and wiping his mouth, “I told you it’d be quick.”

 

The blonde smiled in return and laughed lightly, then harder as he finally felt the blood draining from his penis after hours of being erect.  The relief he felt flowed out of his body with the tension, and needing even more of an outlet, Justin’s relief also came out in hot tears… his laughter turning from overwhelmed giggled to outright sobs.  Still, after all this time, he couldn’t figure out how his life had come to this.  He may have lucked out with a kind master, and the day may have turned out much better than he’d anticipated, but still… there he was… a slave… with no way out.  If someone had asked him three years ago how he thought his life would work out, this wouldn’t have made his top ten suggestions.  It wasn’t fair.  It just wasn’t fair.

 

“Hey,” Brian sounded gently, running a hand up Justin’s arm, “It’s okay, Justin.  Everything will be okay.”

 

“No, it won’t,” the boy disagreed, knowing the only ‘okay’ he wanted wasn’t an option.  Slaves were slaves for life, regardless of whether or not they were born free men.  Born rich men.  Powerful men.  Beautiful, happy men.  It just didn’t matter.

 

Brian decided not to argue, understanding Justin’s answer without needed confirmation.  Stretching out on the bed, head against the pillow, Brian beckoned his slave into his arms.  “Come here,” he offered softly, “Let me help, Justin.”

 

Slowly, as if wary of his master’s motivation, Justin rolled into Brian’s embrace, burying his head in his warm neck.

 

Managing to push his own discomfort aside (he’d never been much of a cuddler), the older man tightly wound his arms around the boy, knowing he needed some comfort after such a hard day.  He’d been happy to see Justin go soft after the blowjob though, so at least that worked out and his boy wouldn’t be in physical pain anymore.  Feeling Justin’s hot tears falling to his skin and his soft cries exaggerated by their close proximity to his ears, Brian knew he’d made the right decision by telling Justin he had nothing to fear… no matter what Mikey said.  Justin’s outlet of emotion now was as much in relief as in sorrow, and Brian had no doubt that their earlier conversation was the only reason Justin was allowing himself this comfort now.

 

“Thank you,” came a soft voice.

 

The older man turned his head slightly, “For what?”

 

“For being so nice to me.”

 

Brian didn’t respond, simply resituated his boy in his arms, gently rubbing a palm up and down his back as he used the other to pull his duvet up and around the blonde’s body.  There was no reason for the boy to be so exposed.  But nice…  Justin called him nice.  Nice was a relative term.  He was still the master of a slave.  That wouldn’t change.

 

And as if the universe was telling them to take a break… to stop thinking so fucking hard… Justin’s stomach decided to take that moment to rumble… loudly… making Brian smile.  “Let’s get you some clothes and something to eat.”

 

Justin found both suggestions to be fabulous.

 

 

***

 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the QAF characters.  All QAF aspects belong to Showtime and Cowlip.  However all original characters and the plot itself belongs to me!  Thanks!

 

***

 

Chapter Five: Getting Acquainted

 

If he didn’t know any better, Brian would think the boy hadn’t eaten in weeks…  The man watched in amazement as Justin inhaled the tuna sandwich Brian had hastily thrown together for him.  “Did you even chew?” he asked, slightly disgusted as the boy sat at his kitchen island.

 

Justin’s face fell as he finished swallowing the last of his food.  Taking a chug of milk to wash it down, he struggled to keep the embarrassment off his face.  “Oh, um… I’m sorry, Master.  I just haven’t eaten since this morning.”

 

Glancing at the green numbers illuminating from the stove, Brian realized it was almost 5:30 in the afternoon.  “Not since this morning?  The auction didn’t start until one.  Why didn’t you eat lunch?”

 

The boy’s confusion showed on his face, “Why would they feed me lunch?”

 

“Because the FDA suggests three well-balanced meals a day?”

 

“But… you’re supposed to…” the slave’s voice drifted off.

 

Christ, this ought to be good.  “What, Justin?” Brian muttered, “What am I supposed to do?”

 

“My trainer said… that you’d reward me with food.”  The blonde bit his lip nervously, “My trainer said I didn’t get lunch today because I hadn’t earned it yet.”

 

“And how would you know when you’d earned it?”

 

“When you fed me.”

 

Brian scrubbed a hand down his hand roughly, grabbing a cigarette out of the pack laying on wet bar and lighting it quickly.  “For Christ’s sake, so you’ve been waiting for food this whole time?”  Without a second thought, the man spun, rummaging through his kitchen for more food to stuff down the kid’s throat.  “Why didn’t you just ask?”

 

“Because…” Justin started, “Because… I’m not supposed to.”

 

A box of cereal was tossed unceremoniously onto the counter as the cigarette dangled from his lips.  “Well, you are now.  Your trainer was full of shit.  I’m not rewarding you with food, Justin.  That’s withholding a basic necessity.  It’s abuse.”  Something Brian was very familiar with.  “So from now on, you eat when you’re hungry.  You said you’re a good cook.  Cook if you want.”

 

The blonde was completely silent, staring blankly at the bowl of sugary squares now in front of him.  He hardly noticed when his master poured milk into the mix.

 

“Did you hear me, Justin?  No more waiting for food.  Just eat when you’re hungry.  If you can’t find something to eat, ask me and we’ll get you something.  Do you understand?  No more of this.”  Brian only partially understood why he was so upset by Justin’s explanation.  The kid obviously wasn’t starved, his stomach was lean but toned and his ass definitely had cushion.  While Brian had grown up in an abusive home, he’d always had his basic needs met… at least physically, even if he had to find them himself.  He was never prevented from attaining them.

 

Justin was still quiet, stirring his cereal.  “Master?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“What… what’s the name of this cereal?  Is it Captain Crunch?”

 

“Um,” Brian glanced at the box on the counter, “Yeah…  I keep it around for my son.  I actually hate the sugary shit, but the kid loves it, so…  If you don’t like it, don’t eat it.  We can make a list of stuff you like and go to the store later.  Don’t worry about it.”

 

But Justin was already on his third bite of the squares, trying to hold in his emotions.

 

“Are you seriously crying into a bowl of cereal?”

 

Justin took a deep breath and held it, regaining his composure.

 

“What is it?” the brunet asked.  Seeing the boy wasn’t planning to answer, Brian crooked his fingers around the rim of the cereal bowl, pulling it across the island away from Justin.

 

Justin’s face snapped up to meet his master’s, hurt and betrayal in his eyes as his food was removed from the vicinity.

 

It took the older man a minute to understand the expression on the kid’s face, but once his brain caught up, he wanted to kick himself.  And after he’d just gotten done explaining he’d never use food against him…  “Fuck,” he breathed, gently pushing the bowl back in front of the blonde, “I’m not taking it, Justin.  I’ll never take your food away.  I just wanted to get your attention.”  Although there was no response, after a moment Justin resumed eating and at least he didn’t seem ready to cry anymore, so Brian continued, “What’s the problem?  What’s wrong with the cereal?”

 

“Nothing.  I like it.”

 

“You like it?  And that made you emotional.”

 

There was a long pause before Brian could barely make out a exhaled, “Yes.”

 

“And…?”

 

It was then that Justin’s hands started to shake, his spoon tapping obnoxiously on the sides of the glass bowl.  He dropped the spoon suddenly, causing a small splash and a clatter as he thought about his master’s question.

 

“Justin?”  The boy’s lack of response irritated him.  It was cereal, for Christ’s sake.  “Justin!”

 

“My mom used to buy it for me,” Justin whispered, trying to keep his soft voice steady.

 

Oh.  “Oh.”  Trying to think of a way to save the situation, Brian mumbled, “Were you and your mom close?” before realizing that probably also wasn’t a good thing to say.

 

“I… I thought so,” the blonde responded, biting down hard on his lip.

 

“Mm,” Brian sounded, knowing he’d dug himself into a hole as he snubbed out his smoke in the nearby ashtray.  “Well… um… if you like Captain Crunch, we’ll have to get some more.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Fuck.  “Um…” they needed a change of topic, “We’ll have to get you some new clothes,” he tried, taking in Justin’s appearance wearing a pair of Brian’s grey sweatpants and a red t-shirt.  The kid looked adorable with the shirt falling off his shoulders and the legs rolled up about five times, but there was no doubt he’d need his own clothes to go out in public.  “I’ll call my… friend, for lack of a better term… Emmett to go shopping for us.  He lives for that shit and he’d love to be your personal shopper.  Where do you usually buy your clothes?”

 

At this Justin let out a long breath.  Apparently not knowing how to own a slave was equally as frustrating as having a master who didn’t know how to own a slave.  “I don’t shop.”

 

“Oh… yeah, of course not, but where did your… trainer usually get your clothes?”  Brian didn’t like this.  He wasn’t used to being the ignorant party in a situation.  All of a sudden, having Deb stop by didn’t seem like a bad idea.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Okay.  Fine.  You’ll get what you get then.”

 

“I’d expect nothing less,” the boy muttered.

 

And Brian had had enough.  In two long steps, he was in front of the blonde, spinning his chair to face him.  “What the fuck is your problem, kid?  I’m trying to help you!”

 

“Help me?” Justin sneered, “You bought me at a slave auction and gave me a painful first blowjob.  Yes, thanks so much.”

 

The older man’s jaw dropped, unsure how to answer.  Normally, not one to question his impulses, he stopped this time, breathing heavily.  His slave was testing him.  If this was normal conversation with Mikey or Ted, Brian would rip them a new one with insulting, witty remarks until the other man backed down, but… with Justin…

 

“Goddamn it!” he shouted, shoving away from the blonde, unsure of how to proceed.  There was NO part of him that wanted to scold this kid for simply sticking up for himself, but that’s what Michael told him to do.  That’s what was expected of him.  “Why are you being such a brat, Justin?”

 

Before Brian could even register what was happening, Justin had leapt from his seat and pushed back on his chest, “I am NOT a BRAT!”

 

“You sure know how to ACT like one!” he spat in return and then watched as something snapped inside his slave, turning Justin’s eyes ice blue.  There was no time to react as a ball of blonde rage launched itself at his throat.

 

“YOU MOTHER FUCKING SON OF A BITCH!”

 

Having height, strength, and weight on his side, the young slave wasn’t hard to fight off, but his shock at the kid’s aggression delayed Brian’s response.  After receiving a right hook to his jaw, he was able to secure the boy’s arms behind his back, pushing the struggling body through the kitchen and up against the nearby pillar.

 

“Fuck, Justin!  Of all the things to get upset about today, you choose the word ‘brat’?” Brian shook his head and caught his breath, “And to think I was using ‘brat’ in the place of ‘little shit.’”

 

Fear and anger coursed through Justin’s body as he continued to struggle.  “Let me go!  Let me go, Goddamn it!” came the demand as his body bucked against Brian’s hold.  He knew he’d fucked up, but it had been a reaction…  A reaction that he was deeply regretting now, feeling the cold metal of the pillar beneath his turned cheek and the solid mass of Brian’s body against his ass and back.

 

Brian pressed Justin’s body more firmly against the thick metal pole, “Listen to me, you little shit…  This ends NOW.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“Yeah, that’s probably the least of what would happen to you if you’d been with anyone else.”  He didn’t want to scare the boy, but the severity of the situation caused him to push forward with his point.  “Do you know what sort of reaction you’d get for that little hissy fit outside of this loft?” he asked, placing his mouth dangerously close to the boy’s ear, “Restraints… Belts… Floggings…” and then remembered something from earlier in the day, something the boy’s trainer had mentioned, “Spankings…”

 

At that, Justin struggled harder, letting out quiet, distressed sounds.

 

Okay, Brian reasoned, it was humiliation the boy feared more than pain.  Surely, he wouldn’t appreciate either approach, but knowing spankings didn’t hurt nearly as much as a belt to the back, Justin’s preferences were clear.

 

“You know what the Sap would do if he was here?” the taller man hissed, pulling on Justin’s wrists still clasped in his hands.  “He’d probably make you hug this pillar,” he continued, finding little resistance he forced Justin’s arms up to shoulder height, wrapping them around the wide bar of metal, “and handcuff them from the other side so you couldn’t escape,” Brian tightened his grip on the boy’s wrists, “Then I’m guessing he’d pull your pants down… and paddle your ass until it blistered.”  He took that moment to press his full body weight against the boy, hearing the breath leave the blonde’s lips in a rush, “And then… I’m positive he’d fuck your ass raw and you’d pass out, hopefully before his friends joined in the fun.”

 

Waiting 30 seconds for the words to sink in, Brian gently released Justin all at once, careful to help the boy regain his footing.  But it didn’t seem to matter because Justin slowly turned and slid to the floor.

 

“Remember that next time you want to act out,” Brian warned, taking careful steps away.

 

Pushing and pulling air in and out of his lungs was about all the boy could handle at the moment, trying desperately to stop trembling.  He’d been sure that was it, positive he’d pushed his master over the edge and everything would change and Brian’s true colors would be exposed.  But Brian hadn’t done anything to him, not really, not anything damaging.  The description of the Sap’s punishment had painted a terrible picture in Justin’s brain and he had been terrified that Brian would act it out… but he hadn’t.  He’d released him… gently even.

 

Justin opened his eyes and ran a shaky hand through his pale locks, “You’re not going to punish me?”

 

The older man smirked, standing tall a few feet from the slave.  “You don’t feel punished?”

 

And the boy took a minute to think about this.  Actually, he did feel punished in a way.  Obviously not physically or even mentally, but emotionally… he was embarrassed, ashamed.  “I’m sorry.”

 

“Sorry’s bullshit.”

 

“But I am.”

 

“That’s ridiculous, Justin,” Brian spoke, moving back to the kitchen for a bottle of water which he held to his cheek for a moment.  Despite Justin’s small stature, he sure could hit.  “Being sorry for the way you feel is bullshit.  Don’t be sorry.  Just be smarter.”

 

Locking the advice away in his memory, Justin continued sitting on the floor, head falling back to the pillar behind him.  “I am sorry for attacking you.”

 

“I’d hardly call it an attack, kid.”

 

“It doesn’t matter.  I am.  It’s just… I don’t like being calling a… a brat.”

 

Leaning over the island to stare of the top of the shaggy blonde head, Brian wondered if the conversation should continue.  “And why’s that?”

 

“My father used to call me a brat,” he explained, “and then my trainer picked up the term.”

 

“So you and your mother were close, but not you and your father?”

 

“No, actually…” Justin smiled, though not a trace of happiness graced his face, “Actually, I was always under the assumption that my father and I were close… but I was… very wrong.”

 

Brian paused, contemplating if he should continue, but what the hell?  Justin had started the topic.  “What happened?  Why were you sold?”

 

The blonde grimaced, shutting his eyes tightly.  The memories were painful, especially since he’d rarely allowed himself to visit them in the last three years.

 

Curiosity and impatience got the best of the brunet, “Justin?”

 

“My father--”

 

And then the phone rang.  “Fuck, just a minute,” Brian sighed, picking up the receiver.  “Yeah?”

 

“I’m bringing over dinner.”

 

“What?”

 

“I’m bringing over tuna casserole – your favorite – for you and the boy.”

 

“Deb, I’ve never liked--”

 

“Don’t argue with me.  You fucking loved it.”

 

Brian rolled his eyes.

 

“I’ll be over in an hour and you’d BETTER be there, Brian.  You and the boy.”

 

“Justin.”

 

“What?”

 

“His name…” the man stated, “is Justin.”

 

“I see.”  There was only a hint of disapproval in her tone.  “Justin, then.  You’d both better be there.”

 

“Got it, Ma.”

 

“Smart-ass.  You always think you’re so smart, Brian.”

 

“Bye.”  And he hung up.

 

“Was that your mom?”

 

Brian’s head turned towards the quiet question, “No… that was Michael’s mom… the friend that went to the auction with me.”

 

“But you called her ‘Ma,’ didn’t you?” the blonde asked, his head cocked to the side like a puppy and Brian resisted the urge to pet him.

 

“Uh… yeah, she’s more of a mom to me than my real mom, so…” he scratched his head, “But, no, she’s not my mother.  My real mother is a raging beast on a religious rampage.”

 

“I bet she’s better than mine.”

 

Brian laughed, “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

 

“Oh really?” Justin challenged, “Did your mom sell you into the slave trade?”

 

Oh.  “Oh.”  Fuck.  “Fuck, um…”

 

The boy sighed, “Is there anything more to eat, Master?”

 

“Kind of a bottomless pit, aren’t you?” Brian asked, staring unbelieving at the empty bowl he carried to the sink.

 

“My mom called me a good eater when I was growing up, which I suppose is a polite way of saying I eat too much.  Maybe I did eat too much.”  The blonde smiled sadly and shook his head, “Anyway… did you mean it when you said I could have more to eat?”

 

“Justin…” Brian bit at his lips but lost his nerve, “Yeah, of course, just dig through the kitchen and take what you want.  Deb is going to be here in a bit with dinner.  She said an hour, so that’s more like 30 minutes in Deb time.”

 

“Deb?”

 

“Michael’s mom.  Yeah.  I hope you like tuna casserole.”

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever had it.”

 

“Well, it’s my favorite… or so I’m told.”

 

Justin chuckled softly, cracking a small grin.

 

The older man raised an eyebrow, “Well, well, well… you can smile.”

 

The boy bit his lip at Brian’s comment.

 

“Anyway, snack on whatever you want or wait till Deb gets here.  I can guarantee there will be plenty of food.”  Brian stretched his arms over his head as he regarded the the young slave, “Are you ever going to get off the floor or…?”

 

With a small noise of embarrassment, Justin climbed to his feet.  “I just…”

 

“I need to take a shower,” Brian announced, “Listen, can I leave the alarm off or are you going to try to run?”

 

“Run?” Justin questioned, “Where would I run?”

 

“I figured you knew that.  You strike me as a smart kid.”

 

Justin sighed his honest reply, “I won’t run, Master.  I wouldn’t get far.”  Sadly, he glanced down at his ‘outfit’ and thought about the fact that he had no identification, no money, and a microchip at the base of his neck that told his entire life story in the slave trade.

 

“Alright,” the older man stated, feeling uncomfortable.  “I’m just going to take a quick shower.  You eat… or watch TV or… whatever you want.  Mi casa es su casa… literally in this case.”

 

“Huh?”

 

Brian squeezed the neck of his neck rhythmically, “Never mind.  I’ll be back,” and he turned toward the bedroom as Justin walked slowly to the cupboards in search of more food.

 

***

 

The colorfully dressed redhead smacked her gum noisily as the elevator came to stop at the top floor.  Checking her watch, she realized she was about 30 minutes earlier than she’d said she’d be, but damn it, even since Michael called her explaining that her adoptive son purchased a slave today, it’s all she could think about.  She snorted as she thought of Brian’s all-knowing attitude and gripped the large Tupperware of casserole tightly in her arms.  Part of her was simply anxious to meet the slave that would so inspire the great Brian Fucking Kinney to partake in such awful activities.

 

Not bothering to wait for an answer, Deb knocked once, shouted a “Hello!” and slid the door open forcefully… only to come face-to-face with a surprised, frightened, young blonde.  “Holy shit, you’re him?!” she exclaimed, “You’re a Goddamn twink!”  Her eyes roamed Justin for a moment, taking him his long blonde hair and slim stature now covered by Brian’s large clothing.  “Since when do you go for a Goddamn twink?” she asked, expecting an answer from Brian himself.

 

But none came and so the two just stood awkwardly for a moment, red staring at blonde and vise versa.

 

“Well…” she began, “are you hungry?  You look half starved.”

 

The boy didn’t respond, glancing back towards Brian’s bathroom nervously.  The shower water had stopped a couple minutes earlier and Justin just prayed Brian would emerge soon.

 

“Can you speak?” Deb asked, trying to keep her patience as she pulled three plates down from Brian’s cabinets.  “Or are you mute?  Maybe that’s what the fabulous Mr. Kinney saw in you.”

 

Again, the blonde remained silent, more than a little intimidated by the animated woman.

 

“Justin, right?” she continued, “Well, you’re adorable, I’ll give him that and you’ve got a bubble butt to die for, but you’re definitely not his normal type.  Michael didn’t mention anything about your looks… or your… lack of communication skills.”  She dished a large helping of tuna casserole onto a plate and slid it across the counter, “Eat.  You’re too skinny.”

 

“Deb…” came Brian’s drawl as he sauntered down the stairs wearing nothing but a pair of sweats, “You’re early…”

 

“Damn right, I’m early,” the woman snapped, not allowing Brian’s almost nudity to affect her.  “I should have been here when you brought him home.  In fact, I should have been at the auction today to stop you from bringing the kid home!  What the fuck were you THINKING, BRIAN?  A SLAVE?  Do you really not get enough sex willingly that you have to force yourself on a young, blonde TWINK?”

 

“I am not forcing myself on anyone!” Brian defended, as Justin tried his best to blend into the background.  “Mikey didn’t tell you much about our… situation… did he?”

 

“You bought a slave,” she stated, “That’s all I needed to know.  How could you, Brian?  After all the things we’ve told you over the years.  I’ve never been so disappointed in you.”

 

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Deb,” Brian chucked, rolling his eyes.  “Let me tell you what happened, okay?  Then crucify me if you want.”

 

She shook her head, “Fine.  Try to defend yourself, but first thing’s first.”  Turning to the boy, she motioned him forward, “Come here, kiddo.”

 

Panicking, Justin looked to his master and shook his head, still not having said a word.

 

“What’s wrong?  Christ, he’s shy for a slave.”

 

“You have no idea,” Brian smiled, just waiting for the ball to drop.  He nodded towards Deb, “Go on, Justin.  She won’t bite, I promise.”

 

Slowly, looking for an escape with each passing step, Justin approached the obnoxious woman.  It wasn’t that he feared her, but not knowing what her role would be in his enslaved life made him wary.

 

Deb closed the gap between them with a few steps, taking Justin’s chin in her hand and turning his head back and forth.  “Shit, you are a pretty thing.  I’m sure you fetched a high price,” she admitted, throwing a glare back at Brian.  “Are you hurt, kiddo?  Anything broken or torn?” her hands went to the hem of his t-shirt, “Let’s take a look at you--”

 

“N-no!” the boy shrieked, propelling himself back, “Don’t--”

 

“Oh Honey,” Debbie started, taking another step towards the boy, “It’s okay.  What’d they do to you?  You tell me.  Come on.”

 

“STOP,” Justin put his hands in front of him, “Y-you’re not my master.  You have no RIGHT to touch me!”  Then he turned to Brian, “Master, please, she’s… she’s a woman and--”

 

It was at that point that Brian did intervene.  “No one is touching you, Justin,” he promised, placing at arm around his boy’s shoulders, “In fact, I’m not sure what she’s doing.”

 

“Christ, Brian, you’ve already got him wrapped around your deviant little finger, huh?” the redhead smacked her gum disapprovingly, “I’m not doing anything.  I just want to see if we have to take him to the doctor.  Sometimes trainers can be… rough.”  She raised her brows, “Nice to see he can talk though.”

 

“Oh, he talks alright,” the brunet confirmed, allowing Justin to snuggle… oh dear God, he was snuggling?… allowing Justin to burrow into his shoulder for the time being.  “Never really shuts up.  He’s either crying about his unfair fate or threatening me with bodily harm if I touch him.  I suppose you could say he’s traumatized.  I wonder why.”

 

“Yeah, I wonder why,” Deb barked.  “Of course, he’s traumatized, you ass hole.  The things he’s been through… would probably even make YOU blush.”

 

Brian cracked a knowing smirk, “That’s the thing, Deb.  He hasn’t been through… anything… at least until today.”

 

“What the fuck are you talking about?  You don’t even know, Brian.  Too worried about getting your dick sucked to find out.”

 

“Justin?  Be a doll and tell mother dearest how many men you’ve slept with.”

 

Justin’s eyes widened significantly, “I… um…”

 

“Don’t embarrass him, Brian--”

 

“Tell her.”

 

The blonde avoided both their stares and bit at his lip, hiding his face back in Brian’s chest.  “Zero, Ma’am.”

 

Debbie was uncharacteristically silent for a few moments.  “Zero?  ZERO?” she repeated, turning on Brian, “You bought a VIRGIN slave?  You sick son of a--”

 

“Mikey didn’t tell you who else was bidding on the boy, did he?” Brian accused, sick of being painted as the bad guy.  He may not have thought this through, but he hadn’t done anything wrong.

 

“What’re you talking about?”

 

“First of all, before you ask, I haven’t TOUCHED the boy… at least not in the full on sex sense,” he added hastily, “And second… the Sap…  Gary Saperstein was the other man bidding on him… and I didn’t… I couldn’t…”  Brian’s tone lost its edge as he tried to explain.

 

The woman’s face softened then as she nodded sadly, “You couldn’t let the son of a bitch anywhere near the kid… I get it…  For being such an ass hole, Brian, you sure can be a teddy bear.”

 

“Fuck off.”

 

“But you fucked up, kiddo.  You’re in WAY over your head.  This is not your--”

 

“--my world,” Brian finished, stepping away from Justin to run a hand through his hair, “Yeah, I got that.  Your meddling son mentioned it a few million times.”

 

“Well, he’s right,” she confirmed, “and now we need to figure out what to do about this… keeping everyone on neutral ground… and keeping your name out of it as much as possible.”

 

“I already know what I’m going to do,” Brian declared, upset without someone else making decisions for him.  “I’m keeping the kid 90 days and selling him… to someone other than the master of Babylon.”

 

“Brian, it’s not that--”

 

“Sell?” came a soft question, but it didn’t seem directed towards anyone in particular.  Justin shoved away from his master as his eyes stared unseeing at the wall behind Brian’s head.  “Sell?  You’re going to sell me.  Of course, you’re going to sell me.  That’s why you paid so much.  That’s why you won’t touch me…  That’s why… that’s why… Oh no…”

 

“Shit, fuck, Justin, no, you don’t--” Brian cut in, not wanting the boy’s thoughts to wander too far.

 

“NO!” Justin may not that been in the slave scene for more than a few years, but he knew how rare it was to find a master as patient as Brian, “No, Master, I can be… everything you want.  I was trained.  I wasn’t touched but I was trained well and I can please you--”

 

“I don’t want you to please me if--”

 

“Let’s go right now to the bedroom and I’ll show you the--”

 

“Justin--”

 

The boy switched tactics, turning to the Debbie, who now stood there quiet with tears in her eyes.  “Ma’am, you… you seem to know… you and your son seem to know a lot about the slave trade,” he explained, “You… y-you can tell him, right?  You tell him about the training I received.  I can be everything he wants, can’t I?”

 

“Oh baby,” Deb sighed, placing her hands on his cheeks, “Of course, you can, but in this case… it doesn’t make a difference.  He’s not looking for--”

 

“You can rent me out!” Justin suggested, whipping back to his master, “That can make you way more money than selling me!”

 

Brian took hold of his shoulders, “Justin, I’m not renting you out and I don’t need the money.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to mention that I’d sell you… I… I haven’t made any decisions yet, but… I…”

 

“Honey,” Deb began, coming up behind the blonde.  “We’ll do right by you, okay?  No one is gonna hurt you on our watch.  We’ll talk about this later.  Now just come sit down and have something to eat.  I have to talk to Bri-- to your master.  Okay?”

 

Justin shook his head as his lip trembled, searching Brian’s eyes.  “Please, Master.”

 

“Just stop thinking about it for now, alright?” Brian begged, struggling to keep his tone gentle.  Emotional ordeals were not his forte and he found himself wishing Justin’s eyes were latched onto Deb’s instead of his own.

 

“Please don’t sell me.”

 

“It’s months away, Justin.  We’ll figure something out.  Eat.”

 

“I’m not hungry.”

 

“Bull shit,” Brian scoffed, “Go sit down and eat, Justin.  We’re done discussing this for now.”

 

The boy’s face fell then as he turned back to his spot at the island and the casserole waiting for him.  “Yes, Master.”  Despite his initial protests, the second the food hit his tongue, the blonde started swallowing heaps into this stomach.

 

“Bottomless pit,” Brian repeated, “You couldn’t imagine how much he’s eaten already.”

 

“He’s 18,” Deb reasoned, “You want me to tell you about how much you ate when you were 18?”  She cocked her head at that, “Actually, you didn’t eat much… but I wish you had.  All I know is that I slept better on the nights you had a home cooked meal at my house… and I slept even better than that when I knew you were crashed out in Michael’s room for the night.”

 

Brian didn’t respond to that, and she hadn’t expected him to.

 

“But Michael… MICHAEL… ate like a horse.  Growing boys.”  She cast a glance back at Justin, “Let him eat.  He’s probably not use to having food up for grabs whenever he’d like.”

 

“He isn’t,” Brian sighed and replied in hushed tones, “He told me his trainer told him his new master would reward him with food…  Been waiting all day for it and never asked.”

 

“Son of a bitch.”

 

“I take it that’s not the norm.”

 

“Sometimes it is,” came the explanation, “but every trainer is different… some harsher than the rest…  His sounds like a real control freak.  I’m surprised the bastard kept him a virgin.  Must have been greedy as fuck.”  She wiped her sweaty palms on her colorful purple shirt, “I take it you didn’t ask many questions?”

 

“The guy grossed me out,” Brian admitted, nodding his head towards the couch.  “I didn’t want to ask.”

 

“We may have to look him up,” Deb warned as the two settled on the sofa away from Justin’s ears, “The more we know about his training, the easier it’ll be on Justin.”  Although she’d initially been upset with Brian’s actions, she now realized that Brian had been acting on good intentions… as misled as they were… and her only concern now was helping her adoptive son… and his new slave… out of this mess with as little pain as possible.

 

“I’d rather not.”

 

“Justin is going to assume you know everything he does.  It’ll be easier for both of you if you do.  What else has he told you?”

 

“Oh… sold into slavery three years ago by his parents.  Trainer told him it was his only role in life to pleasure me sexually…  You know, normal stuff,” Brian spat, disgusted by the suggestions being made.

 

Debbie was quiet for a long moment.  “You really plan to sell him?”

 

“Well, I can’t keep him,” the older man claimed.

 

“You haven’t touched him?”

 

“Told you I didn’t.  Told him I wouldn’t.”

 

“You lied.”

 

“What do you mean, I lied?  I didn’t lie.  Sure, I gave him a shitty blowjob to take care of the fucking drugs in his system, but I didn’t fuck him and I don’t intend to.”

 

“You lied then,” Deb echoed herself.  “You lied.  You will fuck him.  You have to if you want things to go smoothly for him.  You need to fuck him.  Take his virginity.  And soon.  Or you’ll have even more problems on your hands.”

 

***

 

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the QAF characters.  All QAF aspects belong to Showtime and Cowlip.  However all original characters and the plot itself belongs to me!  Thanks!

***

Chapter Six: Pseudo Mothers and Pseudo Friends

            Brian just had to laugh, “Jesus Christ, I guess the Novotny clan has a real hard-on for this kid’s ass.  Is Vick coming over later to recommend the best positions for fucking virgin slaves?”

            “Brian--”

            “Fucking save it,” he spat quietly, jumping from the couch as he cast a glance at the blonde youth still eating at his breakfast counter.  “You can’t tell me to force myself on this fucking kid.  I won’t do it, slave or no.”

            Debbie stayed seated, determined to see this conversation through.  “I never said anything about forcing yourself on him, Brian.”

            “He’s terrified, Deb.  And he’s made it quite clear that he’s not interested in fucking.”

            The redhead sighed, “Honey… I know this is hard for you to understand…  But Justin is expecting you to take his virginity and if you don’t, it’ll only confuse him more.  He’s scared, I get it, but he’s a slave and his next owner is going to want the same thing from him.  Better you take it gently, get him used to it, before passing him onto the next guy.”

            Brian inhaled deeply as he closed his eyes, hands on his hips.  “I feel sick.”

            “Brian…”

            There was a long pause as both parties caught their thoughts.

            “Brian… this is an impossible situation.  I’m only telling you what will be best for both of you.”

            “I’m not raping this kid.”

            Deb actually laughed a bit at that.  “You don’t have to, asshole.  Listen, he’s a slave, sure, but he’s also an 18 year old, virgin, gay boy.  I’m not sure you’d be able to make his reluctant him if you tried.”

            The brunet shook his head, “What exactly are you saying?  Seduce him?”

            Deb stood up, “Seduce him.  Tease him.  Tempt him.  Do whatever it is you do to any other guy you want to sleep with.  It shouldn’t be that difficult.”

            “I won’t force him, Deb.”

            A crooked, closed mouth smile formed from Deb’s lips as she lifted her manicured hand to Brian’s face, nails a gaudy bright red.  She patted gently, “I know you won’t, Baby.  But please keep in mind that Justin’s world doesn’t work the same as our world.”

            The man let out a long breath, “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

            “And I can’t believe you bought a fucking slave!” the woman exclaimed, “But you fucking did and now we have to deal with it.”  Her voice lowered, “This is important, Brian.  This is Justin’s life you’re controlling.  You bought him, so now it’s your responsibility to prepare him for what’s ahead of him…  His life as a slave with someone other than you as his master.  Treat him kindly, but treat him… like a slave.”

            Bile rose in Brian’s throat.  Obviously he hadn’t thought this through.  “Fucking Christ, fine, okay, whatever.  Can you go now?”

            Slow steps brought Debbie closer to the door, “We’ll talk more about the kid’s future later.  Dinner on Sunday?”

            “We’ll see.”

            As the two walked to the door, Justin happened to be taking his last bite of casserole.  His head rose to catch the end of the conversation, wishing he’d been able to make words from the hushed words from the couch.

            “Justin,” the flamboyant woman called, “I’ll see you soon.  And don’t you worry about anything, Baby.  We’ll figure this shit out, okay?”

            A slight upward curl of Justin’s lips was Deb’s only response.

            “What’s your game plan for the night?”

            Brian sighed, frustrated with the constant interrogation.  Normally he’d snark back a witty retort but exhaustion emptied his motivation.  “Call Emmett to get the boy some clothes.  Go to bed.  Take the day off work tomorrow and bring him back to the manor.”

            “Okay, I’ll know where to find you then.”  As she pulled back the door, she spared one more tip to the new slave owner.  “Oh, and watch it with the ‘boy’ shit.  It’s a derogatory term for slaves.  It’s usually only used by heavy-handed masters with rebellious slaves.  Use it sparingly, got it?  Justin will respond in kind.”

            Seemed more likely they were talking about a dog, as far as Brian was concerned.  Be careful kennel training your puppy – don’t use it as punishment.  Don’t use negative reinforcement – use positive reinforcement.  Reward good behavior – redirect bad behavior.  Don’t hit your puppy with a rolled up newspaper.  Don’t rub your puppy’s nose in their mess if they pee on the carpet.  Choke collars and shock collars are a last resort.  Try to train your dog to come when called, making the leash unnecessary.

            A response seemed unjustified as Brian watched his adopted mother walk out the door.  “I’ve got to say,” he chuckled, “I’m seeing you and Mikey in a totally different light today.  Here I thought you and your CAST group were against the slave trade, but it seems to me you’re simply experts at navigating it.”

            Scowl firm on her face, Debbie huffed.  “Brian, I know you don’t get it… but we have to work within the system.  And we’re not talking about ending the slave trade right now; we’re dealing with Justin’s life and his destiny is not freedom…  Remember that.”  Point made, the woman turned on her heavyset heal.

            Brian didn’t wait for the elevator to show up before sliding the door closed.  Taking a minute to himself, he leaned his forehead against the cool metal, letting the sensation clear his mind as he smacked the door lightly with his fist.

            Justin warily watched his owner’s movements.  “Master?” came a soft question.

            A humorless laugh rose from the brunet’s lips, “Yes, slave?”

            Pause.  “Nothing.”

            “Good answer.”

            Taking a hint to keep quiet, Justin silently walked his empty dish to the sink, then took it upon himself to put the leftover casserole in the fridge and place the two unused dishes back on the shelf.  It was pretty apparent that his master wasn’t hungry at the moment.

            “Honeycutt,” Brian snapped, making Justin jump.  Eyes darting to Brian, he watched his master pacing the loft now, phone pressed to his right ear, left hand placed on his hip.  “I need you to do some shopping for me tonight.”

            Justin vaguely remembered the brunet mentioning his friend getting Justin some clothes, but judging by his master’s tone of voice, they couldn’t be very good friends.

            “You can’t possibly be busy.  It’s a Tuesday night, and you’re not working or you wouldn’t have picked up your phone, so if you want some extra cash to pad your pockets, get your scrawny fairy ass to a few tasteful shops and wave your magic wand to bring me a small wardrobe for a men’s size…” he snuck a look at his slave, pursing his lips, “…size small shirt… and size…. Shit, I don’t know what size pants.”

Pause.  Justin assumed the party as the other end of the phone was responding, but only a soft muffle could be heard.

“You remember that kid who worked at Moretti’s restaurant down on 8th?”

Pause.

“Yeah… No, the younger one, the bus boy.  Black hair, lip ring?”

Pause.

“Yeah, him.  Pants about that size, but… um… I think we’ll need some extra room in the ass, so bump up the waist a size or two.”

The blonde couldn’t help the indignant squeak that erupted from his mouth.  Was his master calling his ass fat?

With a smirk sent in his slave’s direct, Brian continued.  “Shirts, pants, few of each… Boxer briefs, socks…  Just casual stuff.  Shoes.”  He covered the mouth piece gingerly, “What’s your shoe size, kid?”

            Caught off guard and still stuck on thoughts of his butt’s proportion to the rest of his body, Justin stuttered, “Me?  Oh, uh, 8.”

            “Size 8, Honeycutt.  Just sneakers, I think.  Maybe some loafers too.”

            “Drop them off tonight.  Soon.  And Honeycutt, absolutely fucking nothing from the Big Q.”  The phone withdrew a few inches from his mouth, “Later,” and he disconnected.

            “Was that Emmett?” the younger man spoke up.

            “Yes.”

            “I thought you said he was your friend.”
            “I said,” Brian clarified, stepping up to the kitchen counter, “that for lack of a better term, he’s my friend.”

            “You were mean to him.”

            “For lack of a better term, Justin.”

“Are you always so snappy with people?”

“Does it fucking matter?” Brian spat, snatching his cigarettes and lighter.  His eyes closed briefly as the nicotine calmed his nerves.”

“If you want to remain friends with people, yeah, it matters.”

“Hmm,” the older man chuckled, “Says the wise 18 year old, pleasure slave.  What the fuck do you know about friends?”

The blonde’s shoulders hunched as he wrung his hands in front of him.  “I had a friend once,” he whispered.

“One whole friend, huh?  Congratulations.  What was he like?”

Justin huffed and slapped his palms on the counter, “She wasn’t a he!  She was a she, and she was probably a better friend than any of yours, so fuck off!”

“Wow!” Brian laughed, walking around the island bar to stand in front of his slave, “Quite a mouth on you, huh, kid?  You feeling that comfortable already?  I thought you were terrified?”

And all at once, Justin shrunk in on himself, realizing in terror that he was speaking to his master both too casually and disrespectfully.  No matter how hard he’d tried over the last three years to remember his place and accept his fate, Justin’s mouth always got the best of him.  His rebellious streak had been causing him trouble since he’d been a child, free and happy with his parents, and hadn’t stopped once he’d become a slave.  Although his trainer had tried to beat it out of him, his natural intelligence and fighter mentality remained.  With a slight tremor, reminding himself that his master could turn on him in a matter of seconds, the young boy dropped to his knees in penance, “Forgive me, Master.”

Brian froze, cigarette in half drag.  “Fuck.  Justin, I…  Fuck.”

The slave waited, eyes to the floor.

“Fuck.”  The nails of the brunet’s hand scratched at his 5 o’clock shadow as he cast his eyes around the loft, “Fuck… shit… Listen, kid, I didn’t… I mean… Do you like TV?”

Shocked, blue eyes met the older man’s.

“Any favorite shows or channels?”

“Master, I don’t understand your question.”

Brian snuffed out his smoke in a nearby ashtray, “What’s not to understand?  Do you like TV, television, movies, cable, satellite?  Netflix?  Hulu?”

The blonde bit his lip, deciding how to answer.  “I did.”

“What do you mean, you did?  And get the fuck up off your knees,” Brian demanded, gripping the boy’s arm firmly as he wobbled to his feet.  “Do you like watching television?”

“If it pleases you, Master.”

“Oh my God,” came a groan, “Stop it with the subservient bullshit.  Just talk like a normal person.  Maybe some owners get off on that shit, but it makes my dick soft.”

The slave took his time to deliberate his answer, trying to decipher his master’s game.  He decided honesty would be safest, “I used to enjoy watching TV, Master.  But that was years ago.”

“You don’t like it anymore?”

Justin sighed, “Speaking of the last three years of my slavery… I haven’t been allowed that sort of… entertainment.  But as a free man, I liked watching TV.”

Stunned for a moment, Brian struggled with a response before blinking rapidly.  “Right.  Okay.  So… what type of entertainment were you allowed to like?”

The blonde sighed deeply, uncomfortably casting his eyes around the apartment.  “Master, my entertainment came from my training.  That’s all the entertainment I was told I’d need.  Training and then eventually pleasing my master.”

“Goddamn it.”  After a long pause, Brian came to a decision, clapping his hands together loudly in recognition.  “Okay, new plan.  I’m going to make up new rules as I go and you just follow along, okay, Blondie?  If I don’t want you to do something, I’ll let you know, and if you don’t think I’ll be happy about something or that you’re not allowed something, then just ask.”

“But Master--”

An outstretched hand interrupted as Justin found himself talking to a palm.

Exhausted, Brian replied softly, “No buts.  Please, for the love of Christ, no buts.  Not right now.  I need a stiff drink, a little weed, and silence.”  A blowjob wouldn’t be bad either, but Brian figured he’d keep that desire to himself.

Justin bit his bottom lip, unsure as to what type of behavior his master expected.  “Would you like me to make you a drink, Master?” he asked, taking slow steps towards Brian’s rolling liquor tray.

“No,” the man ground out, “I can make my own fucking drink.  I asked if you like TV as a hint that you should go watch some.  I’m going to go to the bedroom and relax.  Please don’t bother me.”

The blonde’s eyes widened as he took in the monstrosity which was the entertainment system.  “But--”

“JUSTIN.”

“But I-I--”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” the older man laughed humorlessly, “Can you not follow one simply instruction?”

With a breath sucked in through his teeth, the boy turned away and scrambled to the sofa.  “Yes, of course, Master.  You go relax and I’ll be right here where you asked me to be.  No problem.”

After hastily sitting down, Justin fixed his eyes on the blank TV, not daring to glance back at his owner, but relieved to see the man saunter up the stairs to his bedroom, grabbing a full bottle of whiskey on the way.  Having no idea how to work the robotic looking technology in front of him, the slave settled on simply resting and waiting for his master to return.  No TV show would be worth the wrath of an angry master, and Justin feared he’d screw up the programming if he attempted to work the entertainment center without instruction.  Safer to sit and rest.  Just wait.  Just fucking wait.  And breathe.

***

Brian woke to the obnoxious buzzing of his apartment’s intercom.  The weed must have put him to sleep because he hadn’t intended to take a nap.  But after glancing at the clock and the dark that had fallen outside, he realized he’d been out for over an hour. The buzzer rang again and he scrubbed a hand over his face as he sprung out of bed with a roared, frustrated, “FUCK,” and stalked through the apartment.

“WHAT?” he barked, pressing the ‘talk’ button on the intercom.

“Well, my, my, grumpy-pants,” drawled a tinny voice through the speaker, “I WAS here to drop off your desired shopping items, your highness, but I can walk my sweet butt right back to the bus stop if you’re going to be a--”

Brian sneered and cut the voice off by smacking his hand on the button to release the lock on the doors downstairs.

It was at that point that he remembered a key event in his day…  He’d bought a fucking slave.  Slowly, the man’s head swiveled, scanning the vastness of his darkened apartment.  After an initial visual sweep came up empty, he called out, “Justin?”

“Here, Master,” came a soft answer, and Brian saw movement from the space designated as the living room.  Two bright, blue eyes shown through the shadows and Brian felt bewitched for a moment.

The older man shook his head clear, taking in the fact that the kid was sitting on the sofa in the dark.  “What’re you doing?”

“I was waiting for you to wake up.”

“In the dark.”

“Well, you said I could watch TV, but I don’t know how to work it and I didn’t want to bother you, so I just… waited.”

“In the dark?”

“It wasn’t so bad.”

Puzzled, Brian wasn’t sure he wanted to know what Justin thought WOULD be bad.  He thought about that as he flipped on a few lights.  Luckily, the slave and master didn’t have to continue their conversation as a gentle ‘knock, knock, knock’ and sing-songed “Hello!” came from outside in the hallway.

Justin watched his master roll his eyes and move to slide open the door of his loft, allowing a tall, thin, loudly dressed man to enter, carrying several shopping bags.

“So, Mr. Kinney, just why exactly are you asking for a albeit small but full wardrobe for a petite man?” Emmett Honeycutt questioned, stepping onto the scene with the usual sway of his hips and tossing the bags to the side wall.  This was a person who enjoyed attention, color, and didn’t mind at all being labeled a ‘queen,’ which was glaringly obvious with his choice of a long sleeved, V-neck fuchsia top and tight turquois jeans.

Instead of gracing the man with an answer, Brian simply raised an eyebrow and stepped aside, allowing Emmett to view the ‘petite man’ in question.

Emmett stopped in his tracks, startled a bit, as he and Justin both held each other’s gaze.  “Oh my,” the tall man muttered, “He’s gorgeous.  Hello, Beauty.  Who lured you into the beast’s lair?”

“Ha, ha.”

”Since when do you go for twinks?  And since when do you clothe twinks?”

Brian took a moment to respond, “This is Justin.  Justin needs clothes.  Say ‘hi,’ Justin.”

“Hi,” the blonde croaked, still seated on the Italian leather sofa.

“Hi,” Emmett smiled, walking around to the front of the sofa and sticking out his hand, “I’m Emmett Honeycutt.  Long time acquaintance of this handsome grouch.  I’d call us friends, but I’ll save myself the humiliation of having Brian correct me.”  Without pausing in his words, he looked the blonde up and down, “Are you working on an ad for Brian’s company or just fucking?  I assume you’re fucking because you’re wearing his clothes and, well, you’re here.  Are you a model?  You’re a little short.  Why did you need casual clothes?  Wouldn’t something with a bit more pizazz have been more fun for a shoot?  Or are you doing some working mockups first?  You could have given me a bit more to go on.  If I’d known this was for an ad, I would have picked more photo friendly outfits.”

After letting the jabber run in and out of his ears, Justin purposely ignored the outstretched hand and tried to fake a friendly smile.  He sent a nod in the flamboyant man’s direction, but carefully kept his eyes downcast.  Justin had learned the hard way that even seemingly nice free men became less than charming once his slave position had been established.  “Nice to meet you, Sir.”

Blinking in puzzlement, Emmett lowered his arm and turned to the other man in the room.  “What’d I miss?”

“Justin is not a model, Emmett.”

“Just fucking then?  Why are you buying him clothes?”

“He doesn’t have any of his own and mine won’t fit.”

The queen’s stare flipped between the blonde and brunet, “Doesn’t have any…?  What?  Why wouldn’t he…?  Why wouldn’t you have clothes?  Were you mugged?  No, that’s silly.  Why would the take your clothes?  Did they get ripped off during--”

“He’s a slave, Honeycutt.”

“Don’t call me Honeycutt-- Wait,” he froze, jaw dropping, “What did you say?”

“Justin is a slave,” Brian repeated, rolling his lips in amusement, “My slave.  I bought a slave.”

“You… you…”

A smirk formed on Brian’s handsome face, lips curling sharply as he waited for his dramatic friend’s brain to catch up.

With a choke, Emmett’s mind stopped on one thought.  “YOU DID WHAT?”

“Thanks for the clothes, Honeycutt.  I’m sure they’ll work fabulously,” Brian drawled, grabbing Emmett’s arm on his way towards the loft’s door.  Still in shock, Emmett’s body was easily drug along and Brian gently swung the man through the doorway.  Blocking view into the apartment, Brian partially slid the door closed, “I’ll tally the receipts tonight, add on your commission, and send the money to your PayPal tonight.  Have a fantastic night, Honeycutt.”  And the remainder of the doorway was then closed, and firmly locked.

The brunet chuckled as he turned back to his domain, “And that’s what we call killing two birds with one stone.”

Still somewhat in shock himself, Justin took a few seconds to respond.  “W-what do you mean, Master?”

“Well…” his owner explained, making quick timing of sliding a smoke between his lips and lighting it, “now you have clothes, tacky as we may discover them to be, and I won’t have to explain who you are to everyone for the next month.  Emmett Honeycutt is the gossip queen of Liberty Avenue.  Tonight he’ll tell every fag he sees from the diner to Babylon, and by tomorrow at lunch, you’ll be a household name.”

“And that’s… good?”

“Fuck if I know, but at least it’s convenient.  Do you like Thai?”