Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2574695.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Original_Work
  Character:
      Azel, Theorin, Reginald
  Additional Tags:
      slave_-_Freeform, Anal, CBT, Post-Apocalypse, space, Torture, Violence,
      Sexual_Slavery
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-11-06 Updated: 2016-10-23 Chapters: 20/? Words: 69883
****** H O L L O W E A R T H ******
by TelanaMonteith
Summary
     Heir to the most powerful mining company remaining on earth, Azel
     learns the ways that slaves are used as a disposable resource. When
     he meets a slave from his past, it shakes Azel to his core and
     threatens the future of the company. Abuse, Anal, Angst, BDSM etc.
     EXTREME VIOLENCE and SEXUAL TORTURE. Reader discretion is advised.
Notes
     EXTREME VIOLENCE and SEXUAL TORTURE. Reader discretion is advised.
See the end of the work for more notes
***** I *****
UNCLE VAUNDEROCK HAULED OPEN THE DOOR to the iron shipping container. He’d paid
five thousand terra knots for this particular bundle of slaves, a considerable
amount seeing as they had been transported in the metal canister with no food
or water for three days. The last batch they had gotten from the same slave
trader had been cheaper and had carried some healthy and well bred stock.
Azel’s brow furrowed at the smell that came from the open door. Just as putrid
as the last despite its higher price.
“Keep your wits about you boy. Sometimes they sneak more violent ones in the
last couple shipments,” Azel’s sixty year old uncle gruffed out as one of the
handlers handed him a catch-pole. Azel couldn’t see into the sea can; the
yellow glow of the street lamp did little but cast a sick layer onto the rusted
metal, unable to penetrate the darkness.
Azel was surprised at how cold the catch pole's handle felt in his hand. He’d
practiced with his uncle and was used to it’s weight and the button on the side
that pulled the end wire tight, but it seemed to suck the warmth from his hands
tonight. The rain had come down hard, washing away the mine’s dust from the
parking lot they now stood in. Winter was on its way, the yellow leaves that
stuck to the asphalt were spotted with decay and the grass was brown. Azel let
out a nervous breath. His breath smoked through the single street lamp beam,
and he watched it, shivering at the chill that dipped in his bones. It was
Uncle Vaun’s idea to grab the new batch when they were cold and sluggish, just
in case. Azel realized he should have brought gloves.
Slaves were predominantly shipped in the summer, unless they were being
transported to somewhere nearby. That was the cheapest way, with no need to
heat the trucks or canisters that they arrived in.
Most traders spent their time in the winter collecting various slaves from
slave trader auctions. There were two types, personal slave and labour slave.
Some slaves could have served as both or switched at some point in their life.
Personal slaves were horrendously expensive and usually were only found for
those between the ages of three and thirty. The rich liked them pretty, and
perfect. Any blemish was considered a fault. Shipping canisters, like this one
were often filled with a mix of blemished personals, new and seasoned laborers,
and a couple defectives. Most of the time, the defectives were the old or
unhealthy, and either died on route or Uncle Vaun put them down before they
even left the canister. Occasionally, they would get something violent.
A handler came up beside Uncle Vaun with a flash light and turned it on. It’s
beam shone into the mouth of the sea can. It revealed a tangle of bodies,
mostly unmoving, the beam not wide enough to distinguish what parts of which
bodies they were. Azel had gotten over his shock of the conditions of the
slaves transportation by his fifth experience unloading. He had lost the
breakfast his mom had made him his first day on the job, when he got his virgin
whiff of the smell of fecal matter, urine, and freshly decomposing bodies.
“Alrighty, look what we’ve go here,” Azel’s uncle creeped in, armed with
another light in one hand and an antique elephant hook in the other. The
elephant hook he used to separate any huddled slaves, knock out the violent
ones, or put down the ones that couldn’t be saved. “Move on in boys! They’re
tame tonight!”
Azel swallowed, forcing himself to loosen his white knuckled grip on the catch
pole. He followed in the pack of handlers with their own catch poles. They all
turned on their head lamps, the narrow beams of light illuminating different
skin tones and the occasional flash of the metal catch-poles.
Uncle Vaun had already begun to pull some from the huddled pack. They didn’t
struggle for the most part, and the first one Azel got his catch pole around
had blue lips and could barely walk. She was naked and probably about fourty
years old. Her legs shook so bad they could hardly support her weight. Azel
half dragged her and threw her in the back of the waiting vans as fast as he
dared.
The next few were the same. Hooded eyes, swollen fingers, blue lips, and
shivering. The shivering would vibrate up the catch-pole, nearly causing Axel’s
frozen fingers to slip their grip.
BANG!
The thundering of the iron walls echoed out of the opening, as something
thrashed against them, hard.
“WHOOEE! We’ve got ourselves a fighter!”
Azel had just placed one of the few remaining slaves in the van and released
the catch pole when the metallic clang and energetic whoop of his uncle came
from deep inside the sea can. Azel was ushered into the can with a couple other
handlers to help.
There were only four live slaves left, three of them huddled together in the
back corner. The five that were dead were left where they were found in the sea
can, littered dark lumps that cast shadows onto the wood covered base of the
container. The fourth live one was back into the opposite corner by Uncle Vaun,
who had his elephant hook raised.
Fresh blood covered the left half of the slave’s face, the crimson glistening
in the lights of their headlamps. Azel could only see a wide eye and a flash of
enamel amongst the spilled crimson before the slave lunged forward, a growl
ripping from it’s throat.
Uncle Vaun dodged the assault, allowing the slave to dive past. At the sam time
he lowerd the sharp hook, effectively catching the fleshy part of the slave’s
shoulder into the curve of the elephant hook, with its own momentum.
The slave screeched, wild and savage, scratching at the elephant hook and
writhing on the ground. Blood spurted from the wound because of the thrashing.
A handler quickly got a catch-pole around it’s neck and tightened it to hold it
still.
Azel’s uncle pulled on the hook, bringing the slave closer to himself.
“Thought, you’d outsmart me did yah?” he pulled on the hook again, and bit more
aggressively and smiled when he effectively got a pained verbal response from
the slave.
Azel knew how his uncle liked to play with the ones that fought back, but the
condition this slave was in was the worst Azel had seen in the six months
working at the mine. The age of the slave was nearly indecipherable, the only
clue that he was probably younger was the whipcord muscles that covered his
emaciated frame and the thick mop of dark hair. Wounds and scars riddled his
body, along with a couple obvious marks that were mostly left on discarded
personal or pleasure slaves. Those marks twisted something painful in his gut.
“Black him out with the catch pole and bring him to the house,” He told the
handler. The man obliged quickly, holding down the retract button as the wire
tightened and dug deeper and deeper into the slave’s neck. Azel watched as the
slave started flopping as soon as his Uncle removed the hook from the shoulder.
Fresh blood leaked from the wound and stained the bottom of the canister. In
the dim light its blood looked black as ink.
“Azel!” His uncle called from the door way of the sea can. Azel hadn’t realized
the other slaves had been collected and it was only him, a handler and the now
wheezing slave that were left. “Did you want to help catalogue or are you going
to help Bruce with that one?”
Azel didn’t like helping with the violent slaves but he couldn’t compel himself
to leave this one. “I’m going help him.”
“Alright, see you at the house for supper.” His uncle turned and gave a
dismissive wave.
Azel turned back to the slave, bloodied hands clawing at its throat, mouth
agape, gasping silently.
“Come on boy,” the handler said to the slave gently as he tightened the line a
bit more. It was unusual for them to keep fighting for air this long. The wire
split the skin on the slaves neck a bit. Azel couldn’t take his eyes away from
the convulsions of its throat. Its adam’s apple bobbed and the tendons strained
as the slave fought. “You’re gonna have to slam his head down.”
Azel was ripped from the scene, and looked up at the handler. “What?”
“I don’t want to kill him but he’s not passing out. You’re going to have to
slam his head into the floor and knock him out.”
Azel swallowed, his throat feeling as tight as the slave’s. With shaking hands
he set down his catch pole, and reached for the slaves head. He grabbed it’s
thick mop of hair, surprised to find it soft against his fingers. He’d done
this a couple times before. He hated when it took more that one hit.
He jumped with surprise when a cold but strong hand wrapped around his wrist.
The slave had grabbed onto the one holding its hair, it gripped his arm hard
but didn’t try to pull his hand away. Azel made the mistake of looking down
into its eyes. They were pools of writhing coper and a thousand tones of gold,
all thrown into a whirlwind of amethyst. Azel’s breath stopped. His hand
loosened.
“Boy!” reprimanded Bruce sharply.
Azel let his inner rage and frustration flood his mind and he closed his eyes
as he put almost all the force he had into driving the slave’s head into the
base of the shipping container.
 
BRUCE PUSHED THE WHEELBARROW THAT contained the slave. They walked in silence
towards the basement door of the house, Azel pressing in the code to unlock the
man door, and held it open for Bruce to push the load inside.
They had to work together to get him onto the examining table, Azel taking its
legs and Bruce lifting it by the shoulders.
“Tie him down?” Azel asked, getting the straps ready as he untangled the chains
from the legs on the table.
“Not yet,” Brunce held a clipboard and was recording scars and injuries on the
front of the slave’s body. “He shouldn’t wake up that quick, we’ll tie him down
when we record the scars on his back. I have a feeling he’s going to need some
medical work.”
Azel helped Bruce open the slave’s mouth to look at the teeth, but other than
that he just stared. In the fluorescent light the slave looked even worse. It’s
ribs poked through its ashen skin, the freshest of his scars were puncture
wounds that littering it’s abdomen and chest.
Bruce’s finger reached out and felt one. “Oh,” then he wrote something in the
notes section of the form. Azel gave him a curious look. “ The scars are from
being hooked up in a testing lab. Each scar corresponds to an organ and they
take samples from those organs after pumping a slave with experimental drugs.”
Azel’s colour drained from his face. Bruce looked at him, his eyes were a bit
sad too. “We might have to put this one down if he doesn’t come around. I’ve
seen barely a handful of slaves recover from their time there and even then
they don’t really return to being as sound as they used to be. In body or
mind.”
Azel was surprised to see Bruce gently brush some blood encrusted hair off of
the slave’s forehead.
“Such a shame, really.”
Something wriggled uncomfortably inside Azel’s chest. He knew Bruce was a big
softy, which is why he handled the house slaves and took the special cases for
his uncle, but he had never seen actual affection from him before. Mind you, he
had never seen a slave like the one lying before them.
In the light it was easy to see how beautiful the slave had once been. It was
tall with broad shoulders and a slim hips, and what looked like used to be
powerful legs, atrophied from starvation. Its hair was a dark mahogany, so dark
it almost looked black, with the slightest of rudy highlights.
Bruce grabbed the slaves cock, and Azel’s eyes followed the movement. The
handler studied the scars on the shaft and around the scrotum, then recording
them in the clipboard. Azel didn’t have to ask what those scars were from.
For his first education of slaves, his uncle had brought him to a slave trader
auction when he was sixteen. The slaves were divided into class and age, and
during the bidding, the traders would usually get the slave to perform, to show
what it could do, and rack up the bids.
The personal domestic slaves were interesting. It had little girls playing with
dolls as if they were real babies and the small boys would sometimes building
something. The adult women would hush a crying child and the grown men would
perform their specialty, like some sort of handy work or crafty gardening
skills. Even the personal sex slaves performances didn’t bother him too much.
Most of them were children and were undressed in front of the crowd and were
commanded to masturbate. It was weird for him to watch but some of the more
pretty ones got his pants tight. He rubbed his bulge uncomfortably.
The area where they sat and watched the slaves was set up like a dining room.
They sat at tables covered in white cloth in a horse shoe shape. Dinner had
been served during the domestics and alcohol during the pleasures. Azel’s uncle
noticed him put his hand between his legs.
“Once they bring out the brothel stock, your allowed to take that out of your
pants,” His uncle raised his glass and shouted to someone farther down the
table, “isn’t that right Billy!” The man hadn’t heard what he had said to Azel,
but responded to his uncle with a drunkenly slurred “Oh yah!” and an air toast
with his bottle of beer.
Azel didn’t say anything, too mortified by the heat that made his face glow
red. The auction staff had laid down plastic on top of the carpeted floor and
secured it with tape. His uncle was drunk and got into Azel’s personal bubble,
his lips almost touching his ear.
“You can get cum out of carpet, but blood isn’t so easy.”
Azel was silently mortified, and his uncle paused as if waiting for a response.
When he didn’t get one he laughed to himself hysterically then calmed down as
the first bid of the night was introduced.
A young naked man, about twenty years old but very short and scrawny, was lead
out with two handlers. A chain was pierced onto the end of his cock, the other
end held by a large male handler dressed in tight leather pants and boots, with
no shirt. The other handler was carrying a box in his hands. They walked to the
center of the room.
The slave went through a series of basic commands and the bidding started. Once
they had the slave on all fours, the one handler wrapped the chain around the
slaves neck, so any upward movement he made with his head would pull on his
cock. The other handler removed a scary looking spike metal cylinder.
Wait, thought Azel. Is that a?
The dildo was thrust into the slave who gasped and shrieked. Azel heard
something the auctioneer said about pain tolerance and the expected bleeding,
but the head of his cock rushed with blood and he could hear it throb in his
inner ear. He felt a hand squeeze his shoulder.
“Let it out, you’ll get blue balls.”
Hesitantly, he opened his pants, and let his cock spring free from the hole in
his boxers. The handlers removed the dildo, and the one hooked two fingers on
each side of the slave’s opening and held it open for the crowd to see. The
sphincter was gaping and crimson with gently bleeding lesions. It clenched
closed then opened, the red flesh fluttering deep inside the slave’s body. Azel
didn’t understand that he was homosexual, he had a girlfriend at the time, but
just the thought of sinking his cock into that tumescent red flesh had him
cuming into his hands. When he was done riding out his orgasm, he uncle was
clapping him on the back.
There were several more slaves brought in, some were humiliation slaves, some
had more specific specializations like double penetration. Azel watched with
horrified fascination. The other bidders at the table had their hands down
their pants or pants open. Bidding was fast and competitive. The last slaves to
come forward were the torture slaves. His uncle explained to him that they were
trained to love to feel pain. He couldn’t bring himself to touch his cock while
he watched the agony rip across the salve’s faces. Not until the last one came
in.
The boy was young, closer to Azel’s own age than any of the other’s had been.
The bidding was started at 4.6 million terra knots and was to be the last bid
of the night and the highest. Azel wondered why. The slave walked in on a
collar with a single handler, who strung him up by the wrists in the center of
the room, then also secured and spread his ankles apart, tying them to the
floor. The boy was very good looking, well fed and fit, with not a mark on him.
Azel guiltily grabbed his hot steeled flesh in his hand.
The handler opened a strange case that had a solar panel battery pack on it. To
keep it cold? Hot? Azel wondered. He got his answer when the handler grabbed
the metallic end of a thick sharpened steel poker, the end glowing orange from
heat.
The slave was well endowed, his flaccid cock hung innocent in front of his
large scrotum. Azel was close enough to see that the slave’s scrotum looked
like it was enlarge from an irritation. The skin was red and swollen, giving
his balls a look of red, shiny and large appeal. The handler cupped them and
the slave inhaled shakily, and whimpered. The handler played with them roughly,
and the bids started rolling in, higher and higher. The handler then took the
poker and pressed in into the soft flat plain of flesh right next to the left
side of the slave’s cock. It went in about two inches and stayed wen the
handler let go, the iron only being four inches long. The slave bucked and
wailed in pain. His dark auburn locks flying as he writhed, flashing the crowd
with purple irises. Another pocker sli into the flesh on the other side of hi
cock, the handler gripping the boy’s flaccid flesh hard and twisting to keep
him still as he carefully pushed it in. Smoke rippled from around the iron, and
the smell of burning flesh hit Azel in the face making his eyes water. The
handler grabbed another poker and lifted the slave’s cock sliding in parallel
to the flesh of his shaft and into the top of the scrotum. The screams were now
ragged and hoarse gasps. The handler walked to the back of the slave and
mercilessly shoved two dry fingers into its anus. The slave convulsed, spittle
flying from its mouth as it gasped. Its cock grew turgid. Screaming became
gasps of pleasure, struggling became thrusting. The slave came, his cum flying
at the crowd, a bit of it hitting the table. The crowd cheered.
Azel had come nearly ten times before they had introduced the torture slaves,
and his ejaculation was dry and painful. He hadn’t even realized he had still
been touching himself. Tears streamed down his face and when he looked back up
it was into the eyes of the slave. The purple had grown dark, the lids, half
down with exhaustion, and blood dribbled past its plump lips. The eyes focused,
and zeroed in on Azel’s tear stained face. And it smiled.
Azel fell out of his chair, onto his hands and knees and puked, the food he had
eaten coming up just as recognizable as when he had gotten it down a couple
hours earlier. He didn’t remember what the price of the slave was but knew it
was somewhere in the 20 millions. He stopped paying attention when every time
he blinked, all he saw were purple eyes and that smile.
 
Azel was pulled out of his memory, his face ashen. He didn’t want to look. Did
not want to check and see if that slave boy from his memory was the one that
lay comatose on his uncle’s examining table. But he had to. He focused his eyes
on the genital scarring of the slave, and fell backwards. He tripped over a
metal pale and put a hand back to catch himself, and landed elbow to palm in a
tray of sterile scapulas and clamps. The pain was nothing to the acrid burning
he felt in the back of his throat and he whipped the other direction and ran to
the sink. He puked in the chrome basin, then dry heaved trickles of bile. He
felt a gentle hand rub circles on his lower back.
“I remember your uncle telling me about your week stomach. I didn’t believe him
until just now,” Bruce chuckled. His face winced as he looked at Azel’s arm,
that dripped blood onto the concrete floor. “And that’s going to need some
stitches, come here.”
Bruce sat Azel down on a chair and cleaned and stitch his arm, then wrapped it
in gauss. Azel just noticed that sometime before he started stitching Bruce had
flipped the slave into its stomach and tied it down. The slave stirred a bit
but did not wake.
“Wanna tell me the real reason you freaked out like that? I know you’ve seen
worse and held your stomach.”
Azel looked up at Bruce, his face a conflict of sorrow and frustration. “He’s
the one I saw at my first auction that made me fall out of the chair.”
He expected some sort of laugh or explanation of surprise from Bruce, the man
just squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll finish getting his form done and I’ll put him
in cell B. Skip supper, and go to bed, I’ve handled ones like this by myself
before.” Bruce gave his head a ruffle, as Azel stood on shaky legs. He walked
to the bottom of the stairs and looked back at the slave once, before he
disappeared into the first story of the house.
***** II *****
The shower beat down on Azel, calming him. The water was too hot but he needed
it to be that way. To feel like it put blisters on the tops of his shoulders
and wash away his skin with it. He remembered feeling so dirty after his first
slave auction, and he had forgotten that feeling until that moment when he
remembered those purple eyes. It felt like it had clawed under his skin and
burrowed there. The feeling felt so wrong, but a small part of him liked it.
Two parts of him pulled in polar directions. One who enjoyed the power and one
that shied from it in horror. It made his stomach flop.
He had been training to be his uncle’s heir since he was 14, since Uncle Vaun
couldn’t have any children and he wanted the mines and company to stay in the
family. The mine used slaves that hand harvested a special rock, known as
Lentunite or more commonly known as the Allure Stone. It was a type of mineral
that when diluted in a molten mixture of iron or plastic, allowed the material
to be extremely hard and heat resistant. It was also spectacularly pretty, and,
if found in a practical sized chunk then polished, looked like it had a tiny
galaxy within it. Azel didn’t remember the exact science behind it, but he knew
the colonies depended on it. Especially those who lived on planets that were
very close to their suns. It was even essential for the outer covering of most
spacecrafts. His uncle owned all the mining rights to earth for Lentunite, and
he sold it to the many different factions of the human race. There were seven
mines, and four known large deposits of Lentunite. In older times, it had been
a strip mine, but they found that if handled too roughly, the Lentunite would
crumble when in it’s raw form. That is why slaves harvested it by hand. Nimble,
gentle human fingers and precise strokes of pick axes. And, by using slaves,
there was no human rights delegation to jump through if their was an accidental
cave in. Slaves were disposable, and his uncle bought more every year,
expanding the work force.
Azel remember going over the numbers with him, but he couldn’t even fathom how
much Lentunite they ripped from the earth every day. What he could fathom, was
the money that his uncle got for it. Not only were they sitting on a Lentunite
mine, but the mine itself made a small fortune every hour. They were sitting on
a terra knot fountain. The only problem with that was that is was on earth.
Earth was a lonely place. There was very little foliage, mostly just a small
variety of grasses and a couple type of trees. Food had to be shipped from
producing plants on the moon or from agriculturally bountiful colonies. This
made food expensive, and feeding the amount of employees and slaves that were
on Uncle Vauns’s list of mouths to feed, was often putting a huge cut in the
mine’s profit.
Earth’s population was now only one million with half of those being slaves.
Because Earth was no longer used for very many resources, its was the hub for
slave trading and training. This allowed Uncle Vaun to get cheap prices for
slaves, especially those that were emaciated and bought sight on scene or as
bundles from broke traders. The staff he hired to maintain the slaves was also
cheap, especially if he offered room and board, which was a rare find for a job
on earth.
As the heir to the mines, Azel had a prestige he needed to hold, in business
performance and at social gatherings. Azel had grown up on Mars, in a colony
for the wealthy, and was fully versed in proper etiquette. He had grandparents
and great grandparents that depended on Uncle Vaun’s money to live the
comfortable elderly lives that they did in that colony. The mine was once
theirs and was given to the younger generation. In ancient times, humans would
pay their government to collectively support the elderly, or set up funds that
would pay out people after retirement. In present day, the elders were the
younger generation’s responsibility when they could no longer support
themselves. The better the elders lived the more wealth and position was given
to the family. Money was never wasted on a slave’s quality of life, anything
extra going to the senior’s residence on Mars. Uncle Vaun didn’t even buy any
tranquilizers, using a good knock to the head or a bullet to the brow to deal
with a slave.
A flash of amethyst and gold swam across his eyes, preempting the image of them
being bank. Dead. The stress of those thoughts stiffened Azel’s shoulders, and
he rubbed a hand over his face in an act to somehow remove them from having
ever happened. He braced his hands on the vanity as he wiped the steam off of
the glass to see his face. His hair was a golden mop, with his eyes a dark
obsidian, like a sinister contrast of light and day. Right now his hair was a
comical mess, sticking up in odd angles from the moisture. His eyes were red
rimmed and puffy. He had fallen asleep crying and woken twice, sweat drenched,
from nightmares.
He got dressed and made his way down to the second floor of the house. He smelt
breakfast before he heard the camaraderie sounds of his uncle eating with a the
slave handlers. Azel heard Bruce’s laugh, and that was slightly comforting. He
didn’t know why though. Maybe because that meant the slave was all right?
Azel squished that false hope immediately. He had seen Bruce put down a slave
and laugh in the next breath, just a jovially as he was now.
They saw Azel enter the room and called out greetings of good morning. He
forced a smile and waved at them as he went to retrieve his plate. He sat down
beside his uncle who gave him an amused expression.
“Bruce says your not feeling well today, want to hang back with him and deal
with that aggressive? I’m not riding in a mine truck with you if you’re just
going to blow chunks.”
Azel shot a grateful look at Bruce, before he took a small nibbled of his
breakfast and pretended to force the bite down. “Yah I better stay here. I
don’t know if I’m going to hold this breakfast.”
The handlers at the table laughed. They finished their meals and began to
prepare for the day. Uncle Vaun clapped Azel and Bruce on the shoulders telling
them to not let any puke get on his expensive carpets with a wink, then left
and hopped in the truck with the other handlers. Azel was surprised his uncle
hadn’t said anything about his bandaged arm but figured Bruce had told him
something that had him keeping it discreet in front of the other handlers.
Azel sat there quietly with Bruce, finishing his meal at a normal pace, while
the latter nursed a coffee. When Azel handed a domestic his plate they both
stood and walked quietly to the basement. Azel went straight to cell B and
opened the solid door. Through the bared door he saw the slave curled up
sleeping on a cot with a blanket on, and a full tray of food laying in the
middle of the cell floor.
Bruce sighed behind him. “That’s last nights food, and it was awake when I
pushed the food in.”
Azel’s brow furrowed. “Can I go in?”
Bruce nodded, “Just be careful,” and he handed him a bottle of water with a
straw, “It’s pretty weak right now, but see if you can get it to drink. I was
worried this would happen. We might have to give him an IV drip.”
Azel nodded as he opened the metal barrier of the cell. It creaked, and the
slaves eyes cracked open. Seeing Azel approach, they widened, but the slave did
not move.
Azel was struck again by the amethyst eyes, but forced himself to move
cautiously, looking at the body language of the slave, incase it tried to
attack. The slave was laying on its side facing the door, its knees curled up
to its chest and fists clenched under the blanket in a fetal position. The
slave shook a bit, a shiver running through it’s body until its teeth clacked.
He’s cold, Azel thought, and worried frown formed on his face. He stopped about
two feet away and stretched his arm towards the slave slowly, offering the
water bottle. The slave’s eyes were fixed on the bottle but it didn’t move, not
for the longest time. Azel thought his arm was going to fall off, when the
slave’s jaw ticked and hand shot out from the blanket. The fast movement
surprised Azel, and he jump back as the bottle was snatch from him. The slave
held it in its hands and examined it, then began to screw off the lid. The
slave discarded the lid and straw by tossing it into the corner of its cell.
Azel wondered at the odd behavior. Normally slaves were very tidy and clean.
The slave sniffed the opening of the water bottle, inhaling deeply and
crinkling his nose a bit. Then the slave dipped his pinky into the water and
lifted it to its mouth, taste testing.
Azel was still mesmerized by the intelligence in the eyes and actions of the
slave, and didn’t have time to comprehend when the water bottle was whipped at
his head. It got him good on the bridge of his nose, the water splashing out
violently to a puddle on the floor.
“I shouldn’t have but any electrolytes in there” said Bruce, with an amused
lilt to his voice.
Azel wiped the water from his face with his sleeve. The slave watched him from
the cot, following his movements. “The stuff in the water was to help you.”
The salve’s expression didn’t change, it just stared as another shiver wracked
its body. Azel couldn’t stand to see it shivering. He took off his own hoodie,
only slightly damp on the sleeves, and handed it to the slave. The slave didn’t
hesitate and as soon as that hoodie was offered, it snatched it quick out of
Azel’s hands.
Bruce chuckled from behind him again, holding out another water bottle, without
a lid and straw. “You know you’re never getting that back right?”
Azel grabbed the new bottle careful to keep one eye on the slave, “I figured as
much.” He handed out the new bottle, and the slave was bit more gentle in
taking it. Was it sorry for throwing the last one at him? Azel did’t think so
but he found the slave’s face so hard to read. Not only was there very little
expression, with taunt skin and hollow cheeks, but those purple eyes were so
big and unblinking that Azel had a hard time looking at anything else.
The slave taste tested the new water, then tried to sit up. Its arm, so frail,
shook under his weight, but it managed an upright position sitting on the cot,
leaning heavily on the back wall. It raised the water bottle to its lips, its
hand shaking so bad that some water splashed out on the way to its mouth. It
drank heartily from the water bottle, draining it in mere seconds, but its last
gulps were choked gasps. Water sprayed Azel on the face, but he was too worried
as the slave collapsed back down, this time supporting it self up by the
elbows, it’s back undulated as each cough shook its frail body.
Azel began to panic a little and looked back at Bruce. The handler just watched
slave thoughtfully, and Azel heard its breath go back to its normal rhythm, yet
still labored. The slave was back on its side, Azel’s hoodie clutched to its
chest with both hands, the water bottle discarded on the floor when it had
started choking.
Azel reached out to it, he didn’t completely know why. To comfort? To just
finally touch? He moved steadily, and slowly until his finger tips found the
ashen skin of the slaves cheek. The slave didn’t give any response, its eyes
far way, and its breath still labored. Azel’s eyes followed the rise and fall
of the slave’s ribcage, watching as the already tight skin stretched against
the heaving ripple of ribs.
Azel’s hands came away wet from the slave’s cheek, and when he cupped the side
of the slave’s face in his palm he wiped the tear away with his thumb. He was
surprised when the slave moved into his touch, hesitantly, but still like a cat
that wanted more attention. Then the eyes looked into his as his breath caught.
They were still a brilliant purple, but the flat, blank expression was gone.
They held such a pleading gaze within the amethyst and gold swirls that it
snapped something in Azel’s chest completely in half. His arms itched to gather
the slave in his arms, but he managed to keep that in check, and settled with a
gentle stroke to the slave’s hair and murmured, “You’ll be all right,
everything is going to be okay.” The slave’s hooded eyes fell closed and it
drifted off to sleep.
“I’m surprised it let you touch it.” Bruce said as he opened the door carrying
in an electrolyte drip bag and IV set up. “When it woke up on the examining
table I couldn’t even go near it without it thrashing around. It must like
you.” Bruce gave a wink with his last statement.
Azel’s face flushed, “He’s probably just too exhausted and weak to fight
anymore.”
“That could be from his lungs.”
Azel looked up sharply at Bruce’s careful tone.
 “He would have still choked the way he downed that water, but I noticed
extensive scaring all over his upper torso, and their’s even some along his
trachea.”
Azel stroked the auburn hair again, studying the slave and squeezing his eyes
shut in frustration as the wheezing breath met his ears.
“He won’t be able to go into the mines with a respiratory handicap.”
Azel’s fit clenched white against this leg, “I know”
They continued in silence. Bruce set up the IV and hooked the bag to the wall,
while Azel carefully put a pair of loose shorts on the slave. It was difficult
removing his hoodie from its hands, but he managed to do that and then get the
slave’s head and arms through the right holes without waking it up.
Bruce waited until the slave was clothed before he swabbed its wrist with some
alcohol and inserted the catheter into the vein. The slave stirred a little,
and Azel rubbed a hand on its arm, calming it. Bruce reached for its other
wrist and drew a blood sample, then covered the slave with the blanket.
Before Azel shut the solid door as they left the cell, he studied the slave’s
sleeping form, hoping for something, but he wasn’t quite sure what it was.
 
AZEL SPENT THE REST OF THE day helping Bruce and some other handlers with the
blood samples of all the new slaves. Each was given a serial number, and even
the blood from the dead slaves was catalogued and tested. They screened the
blood for any disease and even did genetic tests on some of the more promising
slaves as hopeful breeding pairs.
They had been lucky that the only slave found with anything was one of the dead
ones, and it was a non contagious virus that it had gotten probably from
drinking dirty water. Azel was curious to see the purple eyed slave’s sheet.
Bruce had decided to run a genetic test on his blood too, knowing Uncle Vaun
would be curious if the eyes could be bred or not. If they were, the slave
would probably be more profitable to stand at stud or sell rather than work as
labour in the mines. Personal slave breeders would pay big for something as
unique as purple eyes, and hopefully it wold be enough that Uncle Vaun would
house the slave.
Azel ate lunch with the others in the kitchen. The big dining room was quiet
but Azel hadn’t heard Bruce come up behind him.
“Azel,” The handler’s voice started him a bit despite its careful tone.
“Hhhm?” he acknowledged around a mouth full of salad as Bruce placed a sheet of
paper next to his bowl. Azel picked it up and read it, abandoning his fork in
the bowl. They were the purple eyed slaves charts. No diseases, and his
genetics came out inconclusive.
“Inconclusive?” Azel looked to Bruce.
“His eye colour gene isn’t in the data base. We’re going to have to breed him a
couple times to see what comes out, but that’s no what I wanted you to see.”
Bruce pointed to the section with the material breakdown of the blood. His iron
was low, dangerously anemic, and his oxygen was nearly half of what it should
be.
“I’ve got him on oxygen right now,” Bruce said when Azel handed him back the
slave’s chart without a word. “His time at the test lab severely damaged his
lungs. I’m astonished he’s lasted this long and hasn’t asphyxiated himself in
his slee--”
“Can you fix it?” Azel’s voice was stark and cold. He needed Bruce to get to
the point.
“I-I can’t, but a surgeon could if its what I think it is.” There was a moment
of silence. The air had thickened around them and the few that remained within
the dining room filed out. “But it will only fix it enough to the slave to live
comfortably. It’ll still be very sensitive and the price of an emergency
surgery for a slave will be astronomical.”
“Take him to the surgeon.”
“Azel, your uncle--”
Azel’s fist slamming down on the table cut the handler off mid sentence, and
rattled the fork in the bowl. His knuckles were white, and he didn’t look up at
Bruce. He just focused on the wood grain of the table, trying to control his
breathing.
Bruce’s voice was quiet, but still forceful, demanding Azel to see reason, “It
won’t be able to work in the mines, the dust and chemicals in the air will be
too much for its lungs, even with a mask on. And with the genetics being
unrecorded, we can either be dealing with a unique find, or some sort of
genetic anomaly that has been swiped from the systems for a reason enough that
powerful people have covered up.”
Azel looked up at Bruce then, and the handler wasn’t surprised to see
smoldering black eyes, like two smoky coals of a dormant fire, dish him an
angry glare.
“I’ll deal with my uncle. Just fix it.”
Azel didn’t watch Bruce leave as the handler turned out of the dinning room
without a word. He just turned back to the table and tried to control his
breathing. Anger had always been a bit of an issue, ever since he was a kid.
That’s why he’d been with his uncle since he was fourteen. His mother couldn’t
handle the violence that was present during his outbursts any longer.
He got up from the table when he felt that he had calmed down enough and
retreated to the study that would one day be his, to burry himself in paperwork
and wait until his Uncle would come to him about how he spent the mine’s money.
 
HE DIDN’T FEEL THE PAIN OF THE BLOW until he hit the rare wooden floor of the
study. Azel had fallen asleep at the desk only to be woken up with a slap
across the face. His uncle now stood over top of him, the office chair he had
been sitting in moments before, rolling and hitting the wall, shaking book
shelf that was behind the desk.
He looked up, just as his uncle’s expression hardened and a foot violently met
Azel’s stomach. Hard. He felt the air leave his lungs in a whoosh, and he
folded, clutching his abdomen.
His uncle knelt down by his head as he struggled to catch his breath, grabbing
him roughly by the hair and craning his neck so that he looked straight unto
his uncle’s eyes.
“I thought you were over your little attachments, Azel.” His voice was
disappointed, and Azel’s name was even said with a gentle sigh.
“It won’t happen again, sir,” croaked Azel apologetically, but his eyes were
blazing.
“Oh it better not,” spit Uncle Vaun his eyes met Azel’s with stern hazel irises
of his own. “Or else that slave is going to be put down by you, and I’ll make
sure it will be a long process.”
Azel toyed with refusing to answer, but thought better of it. “Yes, sir.”
At his words his uncle dropped his head, then cooly walked out of the study.
Azel rubbed the stinging on the side of his face as he made his way quickly to
the basement. The windows were dark, and his uncle had retaliated, so he
assumed the slave was back. The basement was dark when he opened the door to
the slave cells and found the purple eyed slave in cell A. Azel didn’t know how
late in the night it was, but the slave was fast asleep. He still had Azel’s
sweater on, but Azel could see the bandages that were wrapped around the
slave’s chest from the loose fitting neck of the hoodie.
Azel opened the door as quietly as he could and crept towards the slave. The
slave was no longer attached to an IV and his breathing was improved immensely,
but Azel frowned at the condition he was in. There were a couple fresh bruises
on his face, and his thick auburn hair was sticking up, all greasy from
excessive sweat. Fresh rope marks wrapped around his wrists and ankles like red
poisonous snakes, and it took Azel a moment to understand. When he did, his
heart stopped and his veins burned with ice.
Azel needed to punch something. He chose the wall.
The impact rang out through the tiny room, followed by a crack. Azel didn’t
realize he had broken his hand until he was carrying the half roused slave up
the stairs and through the house, startling a few of the domestic slaves that
were busy cleaning. Azel kicked open the door and as quickly as he could,
spirited the slave into his room. He was steps away from his bed when the slave
struggled violently. Azel managed to deposit him on the bed, where he flailed
in confusion, before sitting up in the bed with large round eyes. They stared
at each other.
Azel felt the salt water drip from his cheeks, mere moments before he dropped
to his knees, staring at his hands. His right one throbbed but there was no
swelling yet, just the ugly cuts along the line of his knuckles. He couldn’t
meet the slave in the eye. How could they have done that do him? Azel’s head
raged in anger and confusion. How could anyone with any kind of medical license
have the stomach to do that? To cut a very conscious person open and operate to
fix something without any anesthetic or tranquilizer?
A sob was ripped from his chest as frail fingers nimbly took his hands into
their own. He looked up then, finding that the slave had stepped down from the
bed and was kneeling in front of him, staring with a curious gaze.
Azel, and mostly every person on the colonies had heard of the things that were
done to slaves on earth. The way that they were treated no more or less than
cattle, and how every corner was cut to save money or time. Azel hadn’t really
believed them. He hadn’t started working with the slaves until he was around
seventeen, and even then it was the healthy, docile slaves, that were seasoned
mine workers, much like the personal slaves that were loved, back on the Mars
colonies. This year on his eighteenth birthday, his uncle brought him to the
receiving lot and he’d opened his first ship canister. Since that day on
nothing had been hidden from him, and he believed he could take it. He could
run the company without caring.
The purple eyes before him had brought him crashing down. He couldn’t stand the
suffering that he saw, and cried tears of frustration almost every night. His
thumb of his non-broken hand grazed gently over the rope burns on the slave’s
wrists, wondering how long the surgery had been, the anger and knowledge that
he could do nothing to change it balled tightly behind his eyes.
“I wish I could protect you,” Azel whispered to the slave, his voice rough as
hot tears dripped down onto their joined hands. He didn’t think he’d get any
kind of response, so the lips that crashed against his own was far from what he
expected.
***** III *****
The kiss didn’t last long, but Azel’s breath was lost, as was his first kiss.
Stolen with the graces of the slave that held his face between slender hands
and peered into his very soul with those violet eyes. Azel had once been told
that his eyes looked like black glass they were so dark, and he often felt
impenetrable, yet this slave’s gaze cut him anew. Soft lips bent down and
kissed the middle of his forehead tenderly, then each eyelid, wiping away his
tears with nimble fingers at the same time. The slave slowly stood the both of
them up, and four shaking legs moved towards the bed. The slave crawled up on
the unmade comforter, and grabbed Azel’s hand to pull him up and towards him.
Azel followed as the slave laid down and buried himself in the blankets.
Azel forced himself to rise from the blankets, and slammed his hand against the
touch screen on the wall by the head board to shut of the lights. When he laid
back down he was surprised to find thin, yet strong arms wrap around his
stomach and pull him flush with the slave’s torso. The warmth seeped into his
back and he felt every muscle in his body relax. He slowly turned around to
face the slave, only to find the slave draw him closer to his chest. Azel took
the moment to bury his face in the crook of the salve’s neck. He smelt like
antiseptic bandages, with an undertone of blood. The slave’s own unique sent
was still their though, like a butterscotch undertone to the unwashed skin
mixed with the smell of Azel’s hoodie. The slave cuddle closer, until he
finally settled, taking a big breath.
Azel let his eyes droop, and they were soon closed. He didn’t take a moment to
think about why he as so willing to cuddle into the slave’s arms, nor why he
was so infatuated. He was fast asleep in seconds, warm with a feeling of safety
he hadn’t felt since he lived on Mars when his father was alive. And for the
first time in near seven months, Azel slept without a night terror.
 
“HOW MUCH OF THAT DID it eat?” called Bruce from the other end of the lab from
where Azel sat at a work table with the slave, watching it pensively eat slow
deliberate spoonfuls of mushroom soup. The dish in question was over half
finished, and the slave looked like he had no intention of stopping.
“Maybe bring another bowl,” was Azel’s response, although he didn’t know if
Bruce had heard. It was confirmed when two more bowls of mushroom soup showed
up. Azel looked up at Bruce as he plopped a spoon in the one bowl in front of
Azel.
“You need to eat too.”
At Bruce’s words, the slave stopped his rhythmic eating and stared at Azel
until Azel took his spoon, dipped it into the soup and scooped it into his
mouth. The slave looked satisfied and started on his second bowl.
“God, you’re bossy, “ Azel began after he swallowed, “and you haven’t even
started talking yet.”
The slave gave a tentative, but smug curl to his lips, and continued eating.
It had been a little over a week since the slave’s surgery, and with a new
steady diet, the slave was looking so much better. Muscle was beginning to
develop and Azel was pleased that the slave’s ribs were also filling in. He was
still severely underweight, but he had a healthy pallor to his skin and energy
incomparable to what he had before. The nurse had told Bruce that the slave
shouldn’t speak, or even try to, until at least a week after the surgery, when
its lungs were more healed. He had explained that with seriously to the slave,
and was surprised that the purple eyes regarded him with a sharp intelligent
twinkle, and the slave had nodded. Yet it had been over a week and there was
still no attempt from the slave to form any speech.
Azel had gone back to his regular routine of working in the mines, but he spent
every moment he could at the house with the slave. He ate breakfast with him,
and Bruce, the handler keeping a careful eye on the slave while Azel was at
work, mostly because Azel didn’t want the slave cooped up in a cell all day,
and Bruce enjoyed having company as he worked on lab work. Azel had to have
supper with his uncle, which had become more and more strained since the
beating. Not that his uncle hadn’t beaten him before, but his uncle’s words
were more sharp towards him, and his Uncle started increasing his work load
especially with the paper work. It had gotten to the point where he was
bringing it with him to dinner and was losing a good hour of sleep if he found
a mistake. Not that he minded, especially since Azel insisted that the slave
share his room with him. The slave would fall asleep first, curled up against
Azel as he worked on his laptop or read over a report.
The kiss hand’t been forgotten.
The morning after, Azel’s morning wood had stood proud and turgid. The slave
had smiled and languidly reached for it, but Azel had swatted his hand away
from his crotch with his face flaming. Not that he didn’t want it. He found
himself jerking off every morning in the shower imagining purple eyes and plump
lips around his cock, but he still felt ashamed. Like he was taking advantage
of somebody who had no choice. Slaves had no right to a choice, they were
slaves. Yet that reasoning sat like a stone in the bottom of Azel’s stomach.
After that dismissal the slave hadn’t made anymore advances towards Azel but
Azel couldn’t help but allow some touches to linger, igniting a roll of heat in
his gut. Bruce hadn’t found anything in the records about the slave yet, but
Azel knew he was once a pleasure slave, and Azel couldn’t help wonder if the
slave’s affection towards him was forced as a tact for survival.
Azel set his spoon in the empty bowl and checked his watch, giving a small sigh
that made the slave look up at him.
“I’ve gotta get going now,” he said as he stood, his chair scraping back on the
concrete floor. “I should be back early today, I’ve only got the first mine to
do since Uncle Vaun is checking the others with new areas to make sure their up
to his standards for a walk tomorrow. He wants to show potential buyers that
we’re expanding.”
“That’s good news, I heard from Jemal that he’s using new tech down there to.”
Bruce said as he pick up the empty bowls.
“Yah, and it seems to be just what we needed down there,” said Azel as he made
his way to the walk out door, “See you guys!” He shut the door behind him, his
heart a little lighter. He would be home early that day, and maybe he could
coax the slave to speak. He brainstormed ideas as he headed for the front of
the house.
The truck was waiting for him when he rounded to the front of the house. He ran
and snagged his shotgun spot, the rest of the handlers already loaded in the
back of the truck.
They only drove for about ten minutes, the scenery never changing from it’s
flat dessert topography, with the darker brown mountains in the far off
distance. The first mine was much closer to the house than the others and was
quickly seen on the horizon. Azel and about ten handlers got off the truck once
it arrived and made their way to the entrance of the mine, which was a small
wooden building amongst the long barrack-like buildings that housed the slaves.
The slaves were pretty self sufficient, Uncle Vaun had the handlers make them
that way, and when they entered there was a slave there waiting to take them
down into the mine.
The elevator they had to climb into was of old design with as steel cable that
lowered them down. The slave shut the gates, then stood facing Azel and the
first four handlers that were here to regulate and monitor the first shift of
slaves. The elevator whirred and clanked a bit as they were lowered and the
light from above then began to fade. Azel, the slave, and the handlers were
plunged into near total darkness, and the temperature dropped several degrees,
before the glow of the yellow lamp from the base of the elevator shaft shone on
them.
The sound of the chinking of pickaxes and the rolling of the electric carts was
heard over the elevator's efforts once they reached the bottom. The slave
opened the door for them and they filed out, the familiar feeling of slick and
damp earth underneath Azel’s boots. The handlers and Azel each grabbed a hard
hat with a head lamp from the hooks along the wall. Azel was the first to
secure his and turn his lamp on, so he opened the container that held the
breathing masks. He pulled out the contraption and strapped it to his head. It
auto conformed to the planes of his face, and he inhaled deeply, filling his
lungs with the first breathe of auto clean air. The masks weren’t one hundred
percent effective, but it kept the slaves and handlers from developing any
respiratory compromise while they worked, keeping out the dust, bacteria, and
possibly gas.
The handlers went to their assigned stations within the mine after reading the
supervisor’s notes posted on the wall from the day before. The mine had a
strict schedule, so that everything was mined properly and efficiently.
Azel went through his usual rounds, making sure the right amount of progress
had been made the day before and that if their were any new slaves, they were
settling in obediently into their new job. He didn’t mind the mine inspecting
part, checking every handler’s notes on each slave, seeing the carts full of
Allure stone travel down the track to surface by the loading bay they had at
the outskirts of the slave village. The stone was taken raw from the mine and
driven to the processing plant, and from there they launched it industrially to
the colonies, or shipped it to factories on earth. He usually did this
inspection with his uncle, both working together and discussing pros and cons
of their plans and the way it was all actually playing out.
Azel went up the elevator with the ending of the second shift of slaves and
handlers, satisfied that all was going smoothly. He followed them, bodies
wearing uniforms, sweating at their collars and cave dust sticking to every
available surface, encrusted in every crevice. They walked from the entrance of
the mine to a slave building that housed the communal showers and the kitchens.
Azel and the handlers stripped and showered with all the slaves, throwing their
clothes in a separate basket opposed to the shoots that the slaves threw theirs
down, that went straight to the laundry room.
Azel and the handlers were handed their outfit from yesterdays shift. Dressed,
they headed to the kitchens. Some of the handlers chose to walk through the
eating slaves before retreating to the staff room to eat. Azel never really
entertained this need to be around the slaves more than necessary, but today
something caught his eye. A handler ruffled a slaves hair as he walked by, and
the slave, a boy of maybe fifteen years, turned to the handler with a beaming
smile. The scene caught Azel right in the chest, squeezing the breath from him.
What he suddenly saw in front of him then, eating in organized rows, were
families. Some slaves were laughing, the younger ones goofing around. Their
were group of older ones, just enjoying their meals, and eating silently,
relaxing in each other’s company.
He was ripped from his benign observations by girl’s scream of pain. The happy
chatter died down considerably, and Azel entered the rows of eating slaves to
investigate. He found one of the handlers with his hand viscously in a women
slave’s hair, forcing her head down so he could strike her back with his raised
baton.
“Stop!” Azel’s voice rained into the room, causing complete silence. Every fork
and knife stilled. Azel felt the air itself freeze, as if the slaves were
holding their breaths.
The handler whipped his head up, face red and eyes blazing angry. He had a
deeper red mark on the right side of his face. When he noticed it was Azel who
spoke he lowered his baton, but didn’t loosen his grip on the slave.
“She slapped me sir, and is to be punished. Would you have me punish her some
other way?”
Azel was surprised when his voice came out calm and unwavering, “Why did she
slap you?”
“I beg your pardon,” the handler faltered, disbelief colouring humour into the
expression on his face.
“I asked why she slapped you.”
The answer from the handler was silence.
“Release the slave-”
“But--”
“I said release her!” Azel felt his voice deepen and increase in volume. This
handler had no right to treat her so roughly for her only defending herself.
The handler quickly let go of her hair as Azel approached. His boots the only
sound, in the hall.
As soon as the handler let the girl go, Azel saw her lip quiver. Azel reached a
hand out to grab her chin and she flinched. He gently put his fingers under her
chin and lifted her face up to look at him. She was very pretty, with thick
copper brown hair and green eyes.
“You are free to speak, what did he do to you that made you slap him?”
Azel didn’t understand the emotions he saw that rippled across her face. Her
eyes watered even further when she tried to answer and she gasped a breath
before she spoke, “He-he... touched m-m-m-my breast,” at the last word she
crumpled in on herself with a sob, ripping her chin from Azel’s grip.
Azel’s eyes whipped to the handler’s guilty face, his eyes smoldering.
“You’re uncle--”
Azel felt himself snap, and fought to remain in control, “I don’t care what my
uncle turns a blind eye at. You signed a contract when you stared work here
that was a sexual harassment agreement towards company property and you have
breached that statement. You are suspended from work for three days, without
pay, and if I witness or hear about it again I’ll have you put on probation. Is
that understood?”
Azel wasn’t overly tall, maybe five foot nine, with the handler before him was
easily six feet two and was twice as wide, but the man visibly shrunk away from
Azel. “Yes, sir.”
“Your suspension starts immediately.”
The handler quickly exited the hall, and Azel turned back to retreat to the
staff lunchroom. He was startled to find that all eyes were on him. All of
them.
Every last slave had abandoned their plates to watch him walk towards the
kitchen. Azel thought he should be unnerved by this, but the expressions he saw
were of awe or wonder, and some just plain confusion.
Once he escaped to the lunchroom it wasn’t much better. Everyone in there had
heard, and normal conversations didn’t start up again until Azel was sitting
town by himself picking at his lunch in front of him. He barely ate anything
before he gave a domestic back the three quarters of a sandwich and untouched
potato salad, and left to prepare for the slave’s living inspection.
His walk was uneventful. The slaves were good at keeping their living quarters
pristine, and Azel found not one hair out of place. He wondered if it was from
his display of discipline in he lunchroom, but he couldn’t tell if things were
more neat and tidy than they usually were. Azel had found that people, slaves
and freemen alike, gave him a wide birth.
The truck ride back to the house, at around three o’clock, was perfectly
normal, which relieved Azel, but he still couldn’t wait the whole ten minutes
to be out of the stuffy truck and to retreat to his room.
Normally he wasn’t home until ten, and he was too exhausted to do anything more
than he had to but today he had a spring in his step as he opened the door to
the basement. He found the slave washing beakers and other lab glassware for
Bruce, the man sitting at the table on is laptop.
They both looked up as Azel pounded down the stairs and stopped at the landing.
“Slave, come,” he commanded half out of breath.
The slave put a beaker it was drying on the counter and looked at Bruce. The
handler was back on his laptop, and gave a wave for the slave to leave the task
for now without looking up from the screen. “I’ll finish up, go.”
The slave walked towards Azel, and was slightly startled when Azel grabbed his
hand. His purple eyes went wide, as Azel pulled him up the stairs at almost a
jog. Azel let the salve to his room and shut the door behind them. He let go of
the slave’s hand and took three steps to his bed, where he plopped down on his
stomach and sighed into his pillows.
“I just want to do nothing for the rest of the day.” Azel wasn’t surprised by
the silence from the slave, his words were probably too muffled by all the
pillows for him to even hear him. Azel turned his head to the side to look at
the slave. He was just standing awkwardly by the door way like usual when they
first entered Azel’s bedroom, but this time he wasn’t looking at the opposite
wall blankly. Those deep lavender eyes raked up Azel’s body, the blazing purple
practically undressing Azel and making him feel a bit exposed. When the slave
noticed Azel staring back, he immediately looked to the floor, his head down.
“You are allowed to look, I’m not going to punish you for it,” Azel said
quietly, as he sat up and patted the spot on the quilt next to him. The slave
obeyed but his movements were cautious.
“It has been almost two weeks since your surgery,” Azel let the question hang
in the air. Guilt still clawed at his ribs from that incident two weeks ago.
“Have you tried speaking?” Azel looked at the slave curiously.
At first, the slave didn’t respond as if he had heard. Then he gave the
slittiest shake of his head, not taking his eyes off the ground. Azel felt
himself crave those eyes, that exotic colour. He cupped the side of the slave’s
face and turned it to face his own. “Can you try telling me your name?”
The slave’s breathing visibly got faster, and his eyes widened at Azel’s
inquiry.
“I don’t care about what you’ve been called in the past, just tell me what I
can call you by. What do you want to be called?” Azel held still for a couple
moments letting the slave calm himself. Why did that get him so riled up? Was
it possible he had never had a name before? Now Azel was panicking, but was
interrupted when the slave opened his mouth a little squeak came out.
They were both startled by the sound, the slave more embarrassed than anything,
judging by the red tint that coated his face. The slave put the back of his
hand to his mouth and cleared his throat. “Theorin. I would like to be called
Theorin.”
It was Azel’s turn to be shocked into silence. The slave’s voice was deep and
husky, much deeper than Azel’s own. The sound of the slave’s--Theorin’s-- voice
went around Azel and tickled down his spine until he felt a coil of heat in his
groin. The flash of uncertain purple eyes didn’t help, as Theorin looked at
Azel with a rosy blush still lingering on his cheeks.
“Theorin,” Azel tested on his tongue, the name bringing back the taste of their
first kiss. “That’s a nice name, I like it.”
And there it was. The smile that split Theorin’s face was the twin to the first
he had ever shot at Azel. The curl of those lips, gliding the expanse of
Theorin’s mouth closer to his cheek bones, his eyes narrowing in delight,
without losing any of their periwinkle brilliance. It stole the breath from
Azel’s lungs.
Theorin’s smile faltered, and the slave put his own hand over Azel’s lowering
it from his face as his other reached forward, fingers grazing Azel’s cheek and
coming away wet.
“I don’t like to see you cry.”
 
They laid in bed cuddling for the next hour and Azel never wanted to stop.
Theorin had gathered him into his arms, not questions asked and just held Azel
against his chest until his sobs stopped racking his body. They now laid on top
of the comforter, Azel watching Theorin as the slave drug his fingers from
Azel’s hand through the contours of his arm and back down again.
“You’re very tense, Master,” stated Theorin almost unconsciously.
It made Azel tense even more, “Please don’t call me that.”
A look of confusion and relief battled over Theorin’s features. “Then how
should I address you?”
“Just Azel,” Azel said, yawning his name at the end, before snuggling into
Theorin’s chest, his eyes drooping. It only took a few breaths for him to fall
asleep.
 
AZEL AWOKE TO HIS DARK BEDROOM. Alone. He was bit disoriented with the
darkness, but the light that was on in the hall let in a slight yellow glow.
The imprint beside him on the bed was cold when he placed his hand in it and it
sent a sliver of ice into his spine. Where did Theorin go? He looked to his
attached bathroom, but the door was ajar and showed only darkness. Something
was wrong. Very, very, wrong.
Azel got off his bed, his clothes from that day still on and turned on his
light. His room was awash in artificial white light and he struggled to see as
his eyes adjusted, but when they did all it showed was his room, empty.
Azel opened his door and looked down the hall. The hall clock, an earthly
antique made of wood, struck eleven, the chimes ringing eerily down the empty
hall and increasing Azel’s heartbeat. The hallway light was never on after
eleven.
Azel’s feet began moving, but he didn’t know where they were taking him until
he heard a commotion behind the right turn at the end of the hall. There was
some weak thumping and the voices of three men. He heard a quiet chuckle, one
that was recognizable as his uncle’s. Azel whipped around the corner.
The sight before him dropped him to his knees and crushed the breath from his
lungs. Theorin’s face was pressed again the hardwood floor of the hall with a
catching pole tightened around his neck, holding him down. He hands were tied
with zip ties behind his back, of which was arching in pain with every thrust
and grunt from the man behind him. Another had a harsh grip on Theorin’s bicep,
holding him in place making sure that he met every thrust, his other hand
wrapped around the catch pole handle. The air was polluted with the sharp
metallic scent of blood and fear. Uncle Vaun stood off to the side, watching
then turning calmly towards Azel.
“I was just about to retrieve you. This is what happens when I see that you’re
getting too attached Azel. You’re lucky I’ve had some inquiries about breeding
with this one, or I’d make you kill it, right here in the hall.”
The words barely registered with Azel, and with each grunt of the man and
Theorin’s gasps of pain, the nausea swam through his head and lurched at his
stomach. Those eyes that he had held so close just hours before were flat and
blank, no longer the vibrant wild of the old pictures of mountain valleys of
earth, but a flat purple, the colour of a cheap, store bought sympathy card.
“Stop,” Azel whispered, barely able to get enough air into his lungs to form
words. “Please, make it stop.”
“Such begging, Azel.” His uncle cooed, “And you aren’t even the one being
fucked.”
The man inside of Theorin came then, stopping Uncle Vaun from continuing with a
loud groan of pleasure. Satisfied, the man pulled his cock out of the slave,
the crown resisting at the first ring of muscle, which came out with a pop.
Pink goop, blood mixed with cum, oozed out of Theorin’s hole as the delicate
flesh, red from the abuse, repeatedly clenched and twitched. Azel’s eyes were
glued to the sight. Later he would hate himself from not knowing if it was
horror or fascination that had kept him watching at that moment.
The man that had finished tucked himself back into his pants and traded places
with the other man who had been holding onto Theorin. Once he had hold of the
slave he tightened the catch pole, then shot Azel a shit eating grin. It was
the handler from Azel’s rounds that day, the one he had told off and threatened
for touching a slave.
It was like swallowing rocks, the tightness within Azel’s throat and the
sickening weight of his stomach, and had his hands shaking. Theorin’s veins and
tendons on his neck popped from the thin skin on his neck, and his mouth opened
in a mute scream of pain, as the other man slammed into him.
Azel crunched his eyes closed, only to have his uncle, who he hadn’t even
notice approach, grab him by the hair and the back of his neck, lifting his
head, making him watch. Uncle Vaun’s hot breath murmured into his ear.
“Disregard its pain, Azel, it is not human,” Uncle Vaun’s hand tightened on
Azel’s neck. “It simply exists, has absolutely no rights.”
The tears started falling freely from Azel’s chin, he hadn’t known he’d started
crying.
“Slaves are bred to be used, like this one is. You know this Azel,” his uncle
cupped the bulge in Azel’s his pants, “Your body wants it, and if I’m going to
leave this entire company to you I need to know your mind wants it also.”
The man rammed into Theorin hard, the slave shivering from the impact. Azel’s
uncle unbuttoned his nephew’s pants, letting Azel’s cock spring free. “Touch
your self.”
Azel’s shaking hand slowly grabbed his own cock, the heavy flesh feeling
foreign in his hand, the pressure of his hand simply holding his flesh causing
a drop of pre-cum to escape the tip. He felt betrayed by himself.
His uncle turned to the handler holding the catch pole, and threw something
that the handler caught easily. “Make it scream.”
The handler handed the item to the other who removed his still hard cock
swiftly from Theorin and then skillfully opened the item, enough for it to
glint in the hallway light. A switchblade.
Azel started to panic, but the vice grip on his neck made him stay still.
The shining blade disappeared in between Theorin’s quivering ass cheeks, a
splash of blood splattering against the hardwood. Azel blacked out before
Theorin’s scream ripped through the house.
***** IV *****
AZEL WOKE WITH A SCREAM OF HIS OWN. He found himself back in his bed, stripped
down to his boxers. His skin was clammy with sweat, the bed sheets sticking to
him. He sat up, his breathing going ragged as his mind collected the memories.
His hands fisted in his hair, palms pressing against the building pressure in
his temples. A mantra started in his head; that it was all a dream, just a
dream, not real, it never happened. Yet the smell of blood still lingered on
the back of his tongue. Theorin’s blood.
Azel stood, quickly pulling on a pair of jeans and a grey Henley, before he
whipped open his bedroom door. It was early in the morning, still dark, and the
hallway light was off. He passed the spot where it happened, the only evidence
of the incident was the chemical smell of cleaning supplies that stung his nose
sharply.
He was sure nobody else was up, but he went down to the basement anyway, so he
was surprised to find the light on. He slowly walked down the steps,
recognizing Bruce’s low muttering which made him pause, and listen.
“Is Azel all right?” a weak, strained voice, asked quietly. Azel’s breath
stopped, caught like a fluttering bird in his chest. Theorin.
“Azel’s fine, you’re going to need lots of rest though, I’ll help you to the
cot.”
“But won’t Azel want me to be in bed with him?”
There was a long pause, then Bruce gave a big sigh. “Look, you have an
attachment to Azel, and frankly Azel seems to have an unnatural emotional
attachment to you. If he was your master I’m sure it would be fine, but what
happened tonight...”
Bruce seemed to lose his words, but found them again after a frustrated sigh.
“Azel’s uncle is a powerful man, and a smart one. He’s been trying to train
Azel since he got him, to be just as cold as he is so when Azel takes over it
will be a smooth transition, and he can go into full retirement without any
hitches. However, Azel’s heart is naturally kind and what his uncle cannot
understand is that it will take something drastic to change that. He will
exploit the relationship that you two have in manipulative ways, and things are
going to get ugly unless he starts seeing results. I’m afraid that you should
start sleeping in the cell again, at least until we get the results back from
your breeding to see how much you are worth. If your eye colour gene reads
conclusive, his Uncle might sell you.”
“But--” The panic in Theorin’s voice almost made Azel go down the stares, but
he held himself still.
“If his Uncle sells, someone would buy you. Vaun will no longer own you so he
wouldn’t be able to touch you. You’d most likely go to a breeding farm,
hopefully one of the good ones.”
Azel chose that moment to continue his walk down the stares. Bruce’s words
tumbled through his mind, a tail of unknown emotions following the thoughts and
rolling through his gut. He was looking at his feet on the way down, but when
he reached the landing he looked up. Theorin’s eyes, their normal violet,
greeted him with a worried expressing.
“Azel...” Theorin was standing, but was leaning heavily on the examining table,
Bruce standing beside him. Azel took a step forward, unsure of how he would be
received, when Theorin leapt forward, wrapping is arms tightly around Azel’s
neck.
“I’m glad your okay,” Theorin breathed into the crook of his neck. When Azel’s
arms came up hesitantly and wrapped around Theorin, the slave’s legs nearly
gave out. Azel half carried Theorin into an empty cell and set him down,
stealing a couple extra blankets from the other cots. When Theorin sat, the
pain that split across his face shot an arrow right through Azel’s chest. The
slave lied down, and settled as Azel placed the blankets over him, tucking him
in gently. He turned to move out of his cell, when Theorin’s hand caught his
and pulled him back to the cot. Azel resisted a little but knelt down by
Theorin’s head once he gave in.
“It wasn’t your fault, you know that right?”
Azel didn’t say anything, but his hand that wasn’t wrapped in Theorin’s balled
into a fist.
“What happened tonight, was not your fault.” With his second statement,
Theorin’s voice was stronger, demanding a reaction from Azel.
Azel looked into those purple eyes, a stoney mask hiding incredibility on his
face, but his voice, though barely a whisper, held denial like venom. “How can
you say that.”
“It was my fault that I got into that mess, I opened the door and obeyed the
handler. I followed blindly. They would have never been able to get me away
from the room if I hadn’t gone willingly.” Theorin flashed a look down at
Azel’s fist. “Please don’t be angry with me.”
The moment those words sprung from Theorin’s lips the rage rushed out of Azel.
His fist unclenched to come up and brush Theorin’s cheek. “I’m no angry with
you.”
Relief flooded through the lavender, and Theorin let out a breath, the air
ruffling the golden forelock covering Azel’s forehead. It broke a small smile
from the slave, and Azel smiled back. He leaned forward and covered Theorin’s
lips with his own. It wasn’t passionate, but gentle, both just enjoying the
press of lips and the heat of each other’s breath. Azel pulled away first.
“Just get some rest now.”
Theorin nodded half way through a yawn. His eyes closed and his breathe
deepened. Azel turned and walked out of the cell, closing the door quietly,
before leaning his back against it and sinking to the floor. His head in his
hands, and his elbows resting on his bent knees.
“I don’t know what to do.” The desperate shake of Azel’s voice filled the room
with palpable anguish.
“You can’t see him anymore Azel, or your uncle will kill him, no matter his
value. You know that. He’ll do it to make sure you learn your lesson.”
Azel looked up, forgetting that Bruce had been there, but the handler’s
presence sparked an idea. “I heard what you said to Theorin. Can he get to a
breeding farm if his genetics check out?”
The handler was surprised that Azel’s eyes were blank, the rims read but not
watering. He took that as safe to speak. “If his gene is just a colour anomaly,
a simple pigment mutation with nothing else that sticks out, any breeding
facility would pick him up in a heart beat. He’s young enough, good looking
enough--”
“Make sure his gene test comes back conclusive.”
“Make sure? Azel--”
“You can do it, right?” Azel, looked up at him, his eyes, usually so dark and
brooding, were brimmed with something a kin to hope.
Bruce didn’t want to take that away, but his conscience wasn’t having any of
it. “It’s not the fact of if I can do it, it’s if I should, Azel. What you’re
asking me to do is illegal.” Bruce was skeptical that his words wouldn’t turn
on the waterworks for the kid, but Azel just stared at him, desperation written
all over his face.
“But we can save this one, Bruce. Really save him.”
Bruce didn’t understand how those words could have ripped a hole in his chest.
Maybe it was Azel’s desperation to save something that he loved, but his money
was on the guilt he had felt for years. The years that he continually worked at
the mine, looking into every slave’s eyes that he choked with a catch pole or
asphyxiated. Every bruise he’d laid with a baton across a scrawny, over worked,
back. Every trigger he pulled that sent a bullet through the spinal column, and
the sight of the eyes going from fearful life, to glassy death. He’d pounded
those memories into the dark nooks and crannies of his brain, and maybe this
one try at a save would be enough to cover those over flowing crevices.
“All right,” his voice rained definitive through the basement.
 
AZEL HAD GONE TO BED AFTER his conversation with Bruce. He felt lighter, and
strangely happy. But it was laden with a sadness that he knew he would never
shake. His dreams were filled with Theorin’s smile, and he woke to the beam of
sunlight through the window, his movements feeling ethereal as he got ready for
the day. He ate his breakfast mechanically, and walked to the waiting truck.
His uncle didn’t speak to him when he got to the mine. They both knew their
jobs and nothing had to be said.
At lunch, Azel forced half a sandwich down, trying to ignore the whispers of
the other handlers and the sideways glances. The handler that he told off the
day before walked into lunch late, just as Azel was handing back his tray to a
slave. The handler bumped the slave, causing the tray to fall into Azel’s lap.
There was very little mess, mostly just crumbs on Azel’s pants, but he had to
watch as the handler grabbed the slave by the collar of his shirt and threw him
into a table. The slave picked himself up, until he was on his hands and knees,
then immediately took off his shirt. Azel watched every welt form on the
slave’s skin, forcing himself to remain stoic as the handler wailed on his back
with the thin baton.
The handler stopped when he was satisfied, a glimmer of sweat on his brow. The
slave picked up his shirt and scurried away.
Azel then stood, brushed himself off and went to do the next check. He’d seen
these incidents before, but he would have usually turned away and left, keeping
it out of sight and not allowing himself to think about it. Today he made
himself watch, and forced himself to know what happened; the swish of the baton
through the air, the slave’s fight with himself to not cry out from the pain.
At every mine, with every incident he saw in front of him that day, he forced
himself to watch and not flinch away.
 
That after noon Azel’s uncle was showing the buyers the expansion of the mines,
so it was up to Azel to check on the living quarters at Mine Four by himself.
Mine Four was the smallest mine, and housed the main training center for the
new slaves, but also had the smallest number of working slaves.
It was near supper time when he got to the fourth mine, and his stomach growled
as he stepped into the main building that housed the slaves. The slaves
themselves were all eating and he walked around getting the rundown from the
trainers and supervising handlers, randomly checking in a room every now and
again. He didn’t have to thoroughly check this time, and he was glad. His bones
felt heavy and he was exhausted, which was probably why he didn’t see the pick
axe swing down on top of him when he opened one of he slave’s rooms.
He managed to block the metal from doing any real damage, but he caught it with
the forearm of his broken hand that sent a jarring through his bandaged bones
and a grit of pain to his teeth. A handler was quick to pummel the slave to the
ground, and rip the heavy tool from it’s grasp.
The slave was a male teen, with angry brown eyes and pockmarked face. Its
skinny limbs protested and flailed wildly from underneath the handler, feral
growls escaping it’s mouth.
“Sir! Are you all right?” said a concerned supervising handler, his hand gentle
on Azel’s bicep, steadying him from the attack.
Azel ripped out of his grasp, though he could feel his pulse still pounding in
his throat. “I’m fine. Just throw the boy in solitary.”
“You’re not going to beat him, Sir?”
The words stunned Azel. He’d beaten slaves before but this one was so young and
frail. Most of his experience had been quick punishments, like a bat to the
head for a job not done correctly or a swat at the legs or butt to get the
slaves moving. His mind flashed back to earlier, the slave being beaten on, the
look of sadistic pleasure on the handler’s face.
He was dragged out of his flashback by the cold handle of a baton being placed
in his good hand. The trainer that handed it to him gave him a clap on the back
and said, “Wouldn’t want your Uncle to think you’re going soft, would yah?”
Those words sent ice into Azel’s stomach. He was going to have to beat the boy,
or he risked Theorin’s life.
Azel’s hand tightened around the baton. “Hold him face first against the wall.”
He didn’t recognize his voice. It was steady and cool, when all he felt inside
was a lump of dread and a burning panic.
The two handlers grabbed the boy by each arm and slammed him to the wall. The
slave boy fought and kicked, even going to the lengths of yelling which earned
him a smack tot he back of the head from one of the trainers.
“This should be entertaining,” the trainer said from where he leaned on the
door way. “This one is very vocal.”
Azel raised the baton. And swung.
Flesh collided with the tough plastic. The boy’s body arched. There was a laugh
from Azel’s peripheral, and a scream.
When he tried to remember the beating after the fact, he only got snips and
pieces of it. The boy had screamed with every hit, and it fueled something
inside of Azel. All of his anger and frustration at his Uncle, all of the
unfairness of his life and the anger that he always tried to keep locked inside
of him came out in a fury. He kept swinging down onto the slave’s back, over
and over, only subdued when a final crack split the skin and Azel got a light
spray of blood in his face. He was breathing heavily, each breath taking in the
metallic scent. He felt numb, and didn’t even notice when the baton had dropped
from his hands and made a thud as it landed on the floor.
He stared at the slave, it was barely conscious and being held up by the two
handlers. Its back was red with blood and freshly bruised skin.
“Must have really pissed you off that it took a good swing at ya,” The trainer
laughed as he picked up his baton.
Azel wiped the blood off of his face with the back of his sleeve. “I’m done for
today. I’ll sign the logs and then I’m leaving, you guys know how to shut this
place down for the night.”
The trainer nodded, “Yes, Sir.”
Azel drove an empty mine truck back to the house once he had finished. His
knuckles were clenched so tight around the steering wheel that he had trouble
turning up the driveway when he finally got home. He ran upstairs, stripping
when he got to his room. He didn’t feel himself calm down until he got into the
shower. He didn’t feel himself breathe until the water was pound down on his
back, and those breaths came in gulps. The gasps that ripped through the steam
were pained, but he still scrubbed himself furiously, watching the thin
trickles of the rust wash down the drain as the slave’s blood was washed from
his face.
After the colour of the water was clear, the foam of the soap was stark white,
Azel still kept scrubbing. He scrubbed and sobbed, trying to wipe the memory of
what he just did from his brain. Remove it from his body, by physically
scrapping away at his skin.
He loathed himself. For losing control of his emotions, for letting his uncle
win. For six years he had gone without having to beat a slave like he did
today. His barrier had weakened, and he let an undeserving slave take the brunt
of his frustrations. Just like he used to do to his mother.
The thought of his mother brought him to his knees. The din of the water
falling from on top of him drowning out his mumblings to he rest of the world.
“But she always ignored you. You had to do something,” his whisperings
justified. “Dad--” He took a breath, shuddering with remembering the loss; pain
splitting his sternum and wrapping around his throat until his temples
throbbed. “Dad. Why did you leave me with her? You knew she hated me. I was the
biggest mistake of her life...”
The biggest mistake of her life.
 
The biggest mistake of my life.
 
The memory flooded his senses unbidden. His ears ringing with the shrill volume
of her voice as she shouted at him, her movements around the kitchen heard by
him as he cowered at the kitchen table. She was slamming cupboards, still
dressed in black from the days events. Her eyeliner was running down her face,
over porcelain cheeks down to her pink, perfect lips. Azel had always known his
mother was beautiful, and felt pride when the other kids at school told him his
mother was pretty. But to him right now, she was the ugliest monster; red eyes
and the most painful shrieks emitting from her perfect teeth.
“I never wanted you!” A slam of a cabinet door. The crash of dishes into the
sink. “He begged and begged, saying how rare it was for natural fertilization
to occur in the colonies.”
Azel curled up in the chair, hands wrapped tightly around his knees, his black
clad toes curling along the edge of the seat. His eyes just stared at her,
wide. Why was she saying these things? They made him hurt. Where was dad? This
wasn’t real.
“I was desperate to see that look on his face. The same look he gave me every
ultrasound, every time he touched my belly. But it was never me that he loved.”
Her voice had gone quiet, and she stilled. The only sound in the kitchen was
the rushing of the water running into the sink.
Azel had tears of confusion in his eyes. His whole body felt tense, so stiff,
like he was afraid to move.
Her cold blue eyes locked with his. “Damn you for having his eyes.” The
slippery wet plate that she had been scrubbing in her hands, fell from their
place of cleanly abuse. It dropped to the floor and crashed into a thousand
pieces.
Azel always joked with himself how that broken plate had broken something
inside of him. After that moment his mother had done the unthinkable, and he
couldn’t even comprehend what had happened until hours afterwards. Her hands
had found ammunition in the plates and bowls and utensils that soaked in the
sink. Azel remembered his mind telling him to run as the artificial porcelain
collided with his skull.
He had mentally blacked out what happened at that point. The next sequence of
recall was him, in socked feet and a new suit, running down the street. His
sobs made him stumble. Across people’s lawns over hedges. After a while he
stopped crying, and started to not feel anything. He didn’t know where he was
going, he just remembered he had to get away from those words.
“Your father loved you as much as he should have loved me. You were the biggest
mistake of my life.”
***** V *****
Azel sat in the study, the laptop closed and on the desk in front of him. He
stared at it, his skin itching to open it and boot up his email. But something
was stopping him. Worry? That sick feeling of dread that twisted through him at
any thought of Theorin coming to harm. Was that truly worry?
 
Thanks to Bruce, Theorin’s official genetic records came back conclusive with a
minor mutation. Bruce didn’t say anything to Azel when he handed him the
vanilla folder from Gene Co. Azel could see it in his face, in the way Bruce’s
eyes watched as Azel scanned the documents, like a father watching a son make a
mistake. Be careful, those eyes said.
 
Uncle Vaun had grinned at the papers with satisfaction when he was handed them,
almost laughing in glee. “What should we call him when we put him through the
auction?”
 
“I don’t think we should put him through the auction.”
 
Uncle Vaun paused, his face going stoney, his eyes sharp with suspicion. “Why
not?”
 
Azel swallowed, but looked his uncle in the eyes, “I’ve contacted an old friend
who works in the slave market, and he says that private sales are of much
higher standard so we can price him way higher than any other uniquely coloured
slave. His genetics read that he is the only one of his kind in the data base.
We simply need to name our price, instead of having the buyers decide that for
us.”
 
To say that his uncle looked impressed would be an over statement, but Azel
flooded with relief that almost choked him when his uncle nodded his
understanding, the words “Very good,” falling as if as an accident from his
lips. He reached for the phone on the desk, “I’ll contact some farms and let
them know what we have--”
 
“Let me do it.” Azel rushed, hoping he didn’t sound too desperate and resisting
the urge to take a step towards his uncle, as if he was willing to physically
stop him. His uncle just paused and looked up at him expectantly.
 
“I-I want to handle this myself and get better acquainted with how slave trades
and sales are handled.”
 
His uncle looked thoughtfully at Azel while rubbing his hand through the
greying stubble on his chin. “All right. Tell you what. I’ll let you handle
this entire thing by yourself as long as the slave is sold by Monday. You think
you can do that?”
 
Azel nodded, “Yes sir”
 
His uncle “humnphed” in satisfaction. “You know, I didn’t really believe that
you’d cut it.”
 
Azel didn’t say anything, just let his uncle look at him up and down as the man
nodded to himself.
 
“But, you came out all right. Don’t burn it down and spend all the money you
get in just one place when I make my journey back to Mars, and you take over
this joint, yah hear?”
 
“Yes, Uncle.” Azel said, surprised by the feeling of affection that he felt for
the man at that moment. Uncle Vaun was the closest person to a father figure
that he had after his father’s death. He was even the one who went out and
looked for him after the funeral, and had the look of worry at the bruises on
his head, when his mother had only ever stared blankly at him, as if those
marks weren’t her doing. Azel didn’t know if his Uncle knew what had gone on in
that house the years following his father’s death. If he did, he didn’t show
it.
 
A calloused hand ruffled his hair as his Uncle walked past him and left the
study.
Azel spent the rest of his day looking up breeding farms and stud sale prices.
Doing his research before he made any calls to anybody. There were a few
breeding farms that claimed to practice good ethics that were big enough to
afford a slave like Theorin. Azel had asked Bruce about them, but the handler
didn’t know too much, having only worked with mostly labour slaves.
 
Azel hadn’t been lying to his uncle when he said he had contacted an old
friend. Oric Anderson was a good friend that he had finished business school
with just last year. He had messaged him about Theorin explaining the
conditions of the sale, and then about the farms. Oric was currently finishing
his added year in a degree in slave trafficking and marketing at the University
of Earth, so Azel was confident in the information that he got. They came back
positive, and Oric had even added a link to a farm that he recommended.
 
The link had Azel facing a page of what looked like an ancient thoroughbred
racing farm. Sprawling green pastures and white four paneled fences with
freshly painted white barns in the background. The breeding farm claimed to be
all organic and had a “certified cruelty free” tag that was displayed next to
its logo. Mulsberry Farms: healthy, happy and obedient. The place seemed almost
like it was cut from a magazine for free range beef about a thousand years ago.
 
Azel wrote the number down for the place and added it to the top of his list.
Oric had sent him another message explaining that their breeding program was
exceptional and that it was the best farm for his slave if he was worried about
ethical procedures. Azel sent him a message back thanking him, and was quick to
pick up the phone and dial the farm’s number.
 
When Azel had first came to Earth he had found phones frustrating. How was he
supposed to be able to talk to somebody without seeing their face? In Mars, and
most of the other colonies, a communication device was simply programed onto an
electronic wrist band. If somebody phoned their face was projected as a
holograph screen, so their expressions could be seen. Because of the many
strange mountain ranges of earth and the obscene amount of iron in the middle
of the planet, the holograph screens didn’t work. So the old land line phone
was reintroduced to be more cost effective and because in some places it only
hand to be repaired from the old ruins, and saved a ton on development costs
for the planet.
 
“Hello, you’ve reached Mulsberry Farms how can I help you?” A female voice
answer after the second ring. Azel was surprised the phone had been answered so
quickly, but managed not to stumble over his words.
 
“Hi, this is Azel Cantash. I was wondering if you could get me on the line with
someone in regards to a private sale.”
 
“Certainly. I will have you redirected to Reginald Mulsberry’s office in a few
moments. If he doesn’t answer simply call this number back and I will take your
information and a message so he can get back to you.”
 
“Thank you” Azel said, as the line went quiet then the audible beep of number
keys being punched into the phone was heard and the line was ringing again.
 
“Reginald Mulsberry.” The name rang from a voice that had a deep rich quality
to it and reminded Azel of dark liquor. He became a little irritated that he
couldn’t see the face that belonged to it, but he got over it quickly.
 
“Hello, this is Azel Cantash, and I was wondering if you would be interested in
the private sale of a very unique stud.” Azel’s heart beat fast against his
chest as he waited for the man’s answer.
 
“Go on, what makes him so unique?”
 
“He has purple eyes.”
 
“Purple?” The man, Reginald, sounded disbelieving.
 
“Yes, very purple. Have little flecks of gold in them too.”
 
“That’s very tempting, how old is he?”
 
“Around twenty, we believe.”
 
“You believe?”
 
“He’s a rescue of sorts.”
 
“A rescue, interesting...” Azel liked how this guy voiced his thoughts over the
phone. “Have you contacted any other of the farms about the stud?”
 
“No, I haven’t”
 
“How about this then. Don’t contact anyone else about the stud and I want all
his papers faxed to me as soon as possible with any history that you know or
have suspicion to believe. I’ll have my people look them over and I should get
back to you sometime tomorrow.”
 
“Yes, that sounds good.”
 
“All right then.”
 
Azel gave Reginald Mulsberry the phone number and his email, excited energy
buzzing through him.
 
“Thank you, for contacting me. I hope we see each other in the near future.”
 
“As do I.”
 
They both said good bye, then Azel gently placed the phone down. He wanted to
jump and whoop for joy, anything. His heart was racing as if he’d just gone for
a good sprint and he felt a grin easily spread across his face. Thank you Oric.
He was going to owe that guy big time.
 
Azel was not surprised that this Reginald fellow had jumped at the mention of
purple eyes. About fifty years ago, the United Galaxy Gene Association had
announced their project of successfully custom genetically altered slaves. The
first experiments were for skin and hair colour. Those seemed to turn out fine,
although it was never exact, as some of the original colour would often come
back as the slave aged. Seen as a failure by slave collectors and traders, the
UGGA grew a bit desperate. They began to operate on slaves brains, making them
more docile, and claiming it was the breeding. They started injecting children
with foreign DNA and forcing it to suture within the slave’s genetic make up.
It ended when the slave’s bodies would reject the foreign gene and die of
massive internal hemorrhaging. None survived, despite the flicker that we saw
of slave’s with eyes and hair every colour that you could think of. Having a
slave with such an unnatural eye colour was still in high demand today and any
breeding farm that had the funds would not let something like this pass them
by.
 
Azel slowly opened the laptop and typed the password in. He wanted to close his
eyes as the screen for his email automatically popped up with four new
messages. One was a report from the accountants, the others from handlers
regarding the performance of Mines One and Two from the day before, as well as
some concerns and notices that Azel would have to talk with his uncle about.
 
Azel scrolled to the fourth message, excitement tickling his bones at the
subject that read “Private Sale”. The email was positive, but held some
concerns about Theorin’s past as a pleasure slave in regards to his behavior
towards sexual activities. Azel understood the hesitancy with that. Either
Reginald’s “people”, as he called them, thought Theorin might have performance
issues from abuse or they were unsure how to respond to a slave of such high
price with no history. The email invited him to bring his slave to the farm and
the farm handlers would do a showing, for both Reginald and Azel. There
Reginald hoped to maybe discuss a trial period for the stud, and they would do
lunch.
 
Azel responded, accepting the invitation, and at the same time his thoughts
flooded with Theorin. He hadn’t seen the slave since that night, hadn’t even
been down to the basement. Whenever he saw Bruce the handler would just nod and
tell Azel that Theorin was fine.
 
Azel picked up the phone in the study and called down to the basement. Bruce
answered in his normal nonchalant way. Azel let some excitement into his voice
when he told him about the deal, and to prepare Theorin for transport tomorrow
morning.
 
“If you come see him before he’s loaded tomorrow it won’t be suspicious.”
 
At Bruce’s words Azel froze. His breath, and possibly his heart, stopped. “You
really think I can?”
 
“If your uncle asks, I’ll tell him you were just making sure the slave was
prepared appropriately for the showing.”
 
“Alright, don’t load him until I get there then.”
 
“Will do.”
 
Azel hung up the phone, leaned back in the office chair and closed his eyes.
The past few days had been hard on him. After his shower, post beating the
slave, he had simply crawled into bed, but he hadn’t gotten even a wink of
sleep. It had been five days since then, and each night he was limited to a few
hours, maybe less, of actual shut eye. He was exhausted. He felt it down to his
bones. He worked mechanically in the mines, just going through the motions,
trying not to make any mistakes in the paper work. And despite how that
exhaustion was catching up to him, his closed eyes still rendered no rest. His
mind was abuzz with anxiety about Theorin. What if Reginald Mulsberry took one
look at his scars and said no? What if Theorin reacted aggressively to
something?
 
Azel opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling of the study, and took a deep
breath. He wasn’t helping anybody as stressed out as he was. He lifted himself
out of the chair and stretched. He spent the rest of his afternoon picking out
his business clothes for the meeting tomorrow, and worked out a bit. That night
he could still barely sleep, but his dreams weren’t haunted.
AZEL WOKE UP BEFORE HIS ALARM went off, which was nothing new for the past
couple of days. He hopped into the shower and took time with his appearance,
making sure he was shaven cleanly and styled his hair. When he was done, he
stared blankly at his reflection in the mirror. That face that looked back
wasn’t the same as the one who had first admired the fashionable hair cut he’d
received last month, but someone much older. His eyes looked darker around the
lids, as if they had sunken in a bit, and he rubbed the creases he saw on his
forehead, as if trying to flatten them out. The neatly ironed button up and tie
that he wore didn’t help the signs of exhaustion that were written all over his
face, but Azel hoped other people wouldn’t notice.
 
Knowing that he’d never be satisfied with his appearance, Azel grabbed his
blazer and Theorin’s official folder. The folder held all of the slave’s
records, the sale papers that awaited a price and a signature and several
contracts on condition of sale. Azel had contacted Oric again, getting anything
he could legally to protect Theorin. Unsurprising, there wasn’t much, but he
managed to get a first right of refusal contract, incase Theorin was being sold
so Azel would be the first to know and possibly buy him back, as well as
several papers that hopefully protected Theorin from being lent out to other
breeding farms. Something about property transfer that Azel didn’t really
understand, but Oric said it was normal for these contracts to be presented
with the sale of a very valuable stud or brood slave.
 
Azel walked down the steps hesitantly, his memory flashing with the last time
he’d descended the stairs. How weak Theorin had been. How helpless he felt, how
he had no control.
 
His footsteps were purposeful on the steps now. He was changing something, for
once, and he felt the elation rise through him. It carried over in his gut when
he saw Theorin. The slave stood next to the back door, while Bruce was busy
doing something last minute on the computer, printing pages and typing. When
they heard him reach the bottom of the stares, both eyes turned to him.
 
Bruce smiled and motioned him over, but as Azel approached his eyes were locked
on Theorin’s as if trapped in a field of lavender. The slave stood still, arms
at his sides, legs a bit farther apart than natural, and didn’t say a word.
 
“Theorin?” Azel reached out tentatively towards the slave. He couldn’t read
Theorin’s face, and it engendered anxiety inside him. But the slave’s eyes
softened at the sound of his name and he stepped forward, into Azel’s embrace.
Azel wrapped his arms around the slave and buried his face into the crook of
his neck. Theorin smelt lovely, like sandalwood and a small hint of cinnamon.
 
The clothes he was wearing were soft and plain. The off white colour and loose
fit identifying it as the standard slave garb, and Azel tried his hardest not
to stroke Theorin’s back through the fabric while he drew their bodies closer.
Theorin’s face was in his hair for a moment, inhaling and nuzzling.
 
Theorin pulled away just enough to meet Azel’s eyes. “Is this goodbye?” His
breath ghosting hot over Azel’s lips.
 
Azel didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Or crumble into a ball on the floor
and just wait out the torture that he felt in the possibility of never seeing
Theorin again. He hadn’t let himself think about that at all for the entire
process of the deal and now that it was displayed in front of him, it sent pain
through his chest. Theorin was the only strong connection he had to somebody in
a very long time. He didn’t know if it was because Theorin was present at his
first horrific experience of a slave auction, or if their souls simply
recognized each other, but he couldn’t deny that he would do anything to keep
Theorin safe. If safe meant never seeing him again, then he would bear that
existence. An existence that seemed so bleak and empty to him, right at that
moment, that he felt his resolve waver dangerously.
 
Azel cupped Theorin’s face in both his palms and guided their heads together
until their foreheads touched. “I will see you when we get their. I’m having
lunch with your new master though, so you must address me as a well trained
slave would.”
 
Theorin’s eyes darkened harshly, almost to a purply black. “I am a well trained
slave.”
 
The venom in his voice startled Azel, to the point where he drew their heads
away to get a better look at the slave’s face. He’d never seen Theorin show
frustration or anger and it confused him. Perhaps the slave found the comment
insulting? Azel saw his mistake. Besides the aggression that Theorin showed in
the beginning, he’d been nothing but a gentle slave that listened and followed
orders. Azel had just known that he couldn’t let Theorin call him by his name
in front of Reginald. Being called by the first name by a slave was often a
sign of equality, and was regularly frowned upon in all social circles. It had
also developed into it being very bad manners, especially in company.
 
“I’m sorry,” Azel sighed. “You are a good boy, but I will need you to address
me as master while we are there.”
 
Theorin’s face now looked sheepish; embarrassment crawling a blush on his still
too thin cheekbones, from his outburst. He just nodded, then back out of Azel’s
embrace. “Yes... Master.”
 
The word curdled Azel’s stomach.
 
Bruce cleared his throat, drawing Azel’s attention. “We’re going to need to
leave in the next five minutes,” He placed the folder and more of Theorin’s
papers into a briefcase. “I can go start the truck if you two need a moment
alone.”
 
Azel nodded, swallowing something thick in his throat. Bruce acknowledged by
slipping out the door with the briefcase. The sound of the shutting door left
Azel and Theorin in a room alone that was quickly building up with tension.
Azel couldn’t even lift his eyes from the floor to look at Theorin, knowing
these last five minutes could be their last to touch, taste...
 
Azel had no idea that Theorin’s thoughts were the same as his own, until the
slave gently backed him up to the wall and pressed their bodies together.
Theorin’s breath warmed the pit of Azel’s stomach before their lips even met.
Where their kisses before had been tender, with the salty taste of Azel’s
tears, this one was held no tone of gentleness. Their lips crashed together,
teeth battering teeth through flesh. Azel’s tongue caught the taste of blood,
not knowing if it was his own or Theorin’s. Theorin’s tongue slipped in through
his lips skillfully, grazing the roof of Azel’s mouth hard, drawing out the
remaining air in Azel’s lungs.
 
Azel fought to breathe, his hands grasping desperately at Theorin’s loose
clothing, twisting, but didn’t pull his mouth away. The kiss was a frenzy, a
desperation for Azel to be closer. He needed Theorin more that he needed air in
his burning lungs. He needed to be closer, and that need inside of him hurt. It
was an ache that no amount of his writhing in Theorin’s arms or locked lips was
going to cure.
 
Theorin pressed him harder against the wall, moving his hard thigh in between
Azel’s legs. Azel’s back contorted as his bulge dragged on Theorin’s leg, the
friction of his pants teasing the already burning and needy flesh. His hips
twitched, meeting Theorin’s, feeling the slave’s obvious tent in the loose
fitting pants straining between them.
 
The slave drew back from the kiss, the heat of his mouth moving from Azel’s
lips to his jawline where he set his skin afire. Heat pulsed from his crotch
and up through his stomach. It squeezed his chest like a vice rendering his
legs weak and his mind a puddle of mush.
 
Knock. Knock.
 
The sound shattered them.
 
Theorin pulled away quickly, untangling his arms from around Azel and giving
him space from where he till leaned against the wall.
Azel’s chest was heaving, the air rushing into his lungs like a splash of cool
water that nearly chilled him to the bone.The door opened, and Azel didn’t have
time to be mortified.
 
Bruce didn’t seem surprised to find them both out of breath and flushed. He
held out a thick, black strip of leather to Azel.
 
“I forgot, he’s going to need to wear a collar.”
 
Azel took the collar from him, his hands rubbing against the soft, oiled
leather.
 
“Put it on him now, then we have to load him up.”
 
Azel felt like he was on auto pilot. That Bruce had to tell him what to do was
enough for him to know that he still wasn’t recovered from that kiss and at the
moment he was skeptical if he ever would be.
 
His fingers brushed Theorin’s throat more sensually than he had intended while
he put on the collar, causing Theorin’s eyes to practically glow.
 
Azel didn’t think Theorin looked good in a collar. The black looked stark
against his pale skin and the thickness and weight of the leather pressed down
on Theorin’s collarbones causing him to hunch over slightly. It was looking at
a caged bird, or a haltered mustang. Something wild and free, trapped in the
confines of someone else's whims. Sadness washed through him like a tide,
expelling any of the hot lust he had been previously experiencing.
 
Theorin shifted too once the collar was clipped to a leather leash. Legs
slightly farther apart than normal, hand at his sides. Exactly how he’s been
standing when Azel had first came down the stairs. Azel now recognized it for
what it was. It was a slave stance drilled into all pleasure slaves, who
usually stood still for hours, butt naked, while they waited for a client to
choose them. Slaves were also put into this standard position while being
inspected, which was what Theorin would go through in only a couple of hours.
Azel swallowed his retort to tell Theorin that he didn’t have to do that, not
around him, but where he was going he’d probably have to get used to it.
 
Bruce had grabbed Theorin’s leash and led him out of the basement and towards
the truck that had its back doors waiting open. Theorin walked in silently and
stepped into the truck obediently, sitting on the metal bench on the side, his
eyes forward and hands in his lap. Bruce shut the doors and they shut with a
loud click. Azel stared at them, his eyes only seeing the generic white of the
company truck.
“Come on, or your going to be late!” Bruce called from the front of the truck.
 
Azel walked up, opened the door with the familiar creek and buckled himself in
the front passenger seat. Bruce started the old engine, letting the old thing
that still ran on salt water, turn over and hum a bit before he put it in
drive.
 
They had been on the road for only twenty minutes, when Bruce opened the middle
glove box and removed a tissue. Azel hand’t been paying attention, and jumped
when Bruce nudged his shoulder.
 
Without taking his eyes from the road, Bruce handed the tissue to Azel, “Your
lip is still bleeding.”
***** VI *****
They had been driving for three hours, and Azel’s eyes scanned the desolate
landscape with little emotion. They would be driving for another twenty minutes
before they reached Mulsberry farms, which was located by one of the largest
freshwater lakes on the livable region of earth. It used to be a large city
inside of a valley, but mother nature had taken the initiative and terrorized
it with floods. Azel remembered seeing advertisements as a kid, showing tours
that you could take to go and explore the underwater ruins. He’d never fancied
the idea to do it himself, having no real interest in history, but a part of
him itched to tell Theorin about it.
Azel scrubbed a hand over his face. What the hell was that? Was he so attached
to the slave that he wanted- no- had a physical need, to see those violet eyes
widen in amazement and emotion because of him?
Bruce shifted, obviously wondering at Azel’s internal struggle but he didn’t
say a word and they continued to drive silently.
As they neared the lake, farms, or rather, slave farms were visible from the
road. Some of them were small, with some very old architecture, a scattering of
cheap modern buildings or a combination of both. Azel speculated what each farm
was for. Breeding, or training? Some farms were agriculture farms. The few that
were on earth were scattered around the major water basin and Azel couldn’t
help but stare at the handful that passed them.
It was coming into the cold season, and the crispness of oncoming snow was in
the air. The farmers were just now getting the wheat and other large crops off
of the fields. The golden colour stood blazing against the backdrop of a grey
sky and muddy brown desert earth. Equipment was all around and in the crop.
From irrigation systems to large boxes that housed super fungi to create almost
instant soil, making the site was one to behold.
“Your Uncle has never taken you to see one of those?” Bruce’s voice gently
broke the silence, allowing the sound of the engine to fade into the
background.
“No,” Azel said, but his eyes never looked away from the window, staring
intensely at a crop that he couldn’t identify before it whizzed past. “I’ve
never been this far west on earth before.”
“Maybe we’ll stop by one on the way back. I have a friend that helps run a beet
farm that would only be a ten minute detour.”
“Beets?” Azel couldn’t help to keep the distaste out of his voice. “Those
purple things that you eat out of the jars all the time?”
“The very same.”
“I- I guess it would be alright.”
“Perfect, I’ll give him a call while you’re in the meeting."
The meeting.
Azel felt his insides grow cold. Could he do this? It was a good farm. Reginald
sounded nice and Oric assured him that the farm had a zero tolerance policy for
employees that abused the slaves. Theorin would be safe, possibly even
comfortable compared to what had been done to him in the past. Azel took a
breath. He could do this. For Theorin.
“We’re here,” Bruce exclaimed as he turned off of the main road and down a
narrow drive way where he was quickly stopped by a black route iron gate. The
gate was held up by two stone pillars and Azel spooked when a man opened the
side of one of the pillars and came out. He hadn’t seen that there was even a
door there. The pillars had a high chain link fence that seemed to stretch
forever in both directions.
The man was dressed in a black uniform and wore a name tag that read “Sigel”.
He walked business like to the driver’s side of the door and Bruce rolled down
the window.
“Hello,” Bruce said pleasantly.
The guard nodded, “Good day, what brings you here?”
“Business. We have a private deal with Reginald Mulsberry.” Azel piped in,
“Mr.Mulsberry told me you’d be coming, you have a manifest for the slave?”
Azel grabbed the briefcase from where it sat at his feet and popped it open,
grabbing the manifest out of it and handing it to Bruce who handed it to the
guard.
The guard took it and looked it over. “Purple eyes, eh? Must be a good looking
one,” he handed back the papers to Bruce. “Mr. Mulsberry would like Mr. Cantash
at the main house. It’s just your first left. Have a good day.” The guard left
them with a genuine smile, then retreated to his pillar and shut the door. The
gate opened slowly before them. Bruce started up the truck and they made their
way slowly inside.
The green grass that Azel had seen in the photo was a dull yellow colour, but
other than that, the fences and barns were exactly how it had been pictured on
the website. The four picket white fences rolled across the hills and the white
barns were a stunning accent to the background of pale yellows.
Too quick for Azel to fully gawk at the barns, Bruce took the left turn, around
a big hill, the stark white barns disappearing behind the hill of dead grass.
The huge victorian style mansion came into view. It was white and matched the
barns, with great pillars at the front of it. As they neared the circle drive
in front of it the grand doors opened and two figures emerged. One was dressed
sharply, in a suit that was all in black, even the shirt. The other figure was
dressed in much the same clothing as Azel, except different colours. That must
be Reginald, Azel assumed.
The began to make their way down the stairs as Bruce brought the truck to a
stop. Azel opened his door and hoped out with the briefcase, nervousness
wringing his stomach tight.
He walked around the front of the truck, where the two men waited. The one
dressed in business casual stepped forward his hand held out to shake Azel’s.
Azel grabbed it and met eyes with the man.
“I assume, you are Azel, correct?” he said.
“Yes, it is a pleasure to meet you Mr. Mulsberry.”
The man smiled, as he let go of Azel’s hand “The pleasure is all mine and
please, call me Reggie.”
Reginald, was a tall man and stood at least half a foot over Azel. He had warm
hazel eyes and dark hair that was parted and gelled back for a professional
look. His voice, even from the first moment he talked, affected Azel.
Reginald’s words were almost too slow, and his voice too deep. Azel seemed
drawn to it, as if the sound hit the center of his brain for what he found
attractive. And Reginald was very attractive. He looked like he was in his
early thirties, with strong clean shaven jaw and a wide mouth. His held himself
with correct posture, his clothes hugging his well developed frame.
Azel heard Bruce shut the truck door behind him, which snapped Azel’s mind out
of the gutter. Reggie reached for Bruce’s hand too as the handler went to stand
beside Azel.
“I’m Bruce, the handler.”
“Ah, yes. It is nice to meet you as well,” Reginald greeted. When he was done
shaking hands with Bruce he motioned to the truck. “May I take a peak at the
slave?”
“Of course.” said Bruce. They all walked to the back of the truck and Bruce
grabbed the back doors and opened them. Theorin sat cross legged in the middle
of the floor of the bed of the truck. His eyes squinted at the light of the
open doors.
“Could we bring him out? I’d like to see him in the light before Azel and I go
into the house to talk business.” said Reginald.
Bruce nodded his head as he took the leash from a hook in the wall of the slave
truck, and jumped in. His heavy boots made a din with the steel floor as he
hooked the leash to Theorin’s collar. Theorin stood without being told and
followed Bruce out of the truck.
Reginald smiled as the light hit Theorin, and approached the slave. Theorin was
looking down at Reginald’s feet, his hands loosely at his sides. Reginald put
his fingers on Theorin’s chin and lifted his head up.
Azel thought the gasp that escaped from Reginald’s lips was a little on the
theatrical side, bit it managed to get Theorin’s eyes to widen and study
Reginald curiously.
“How marvelous,” Reggie said with a wondrous tone to his voice. “He is even
more attractive than I had anticipated. He is absolutely stunning,” He head
turned to Azel, “Where on earth did you find him?”
“He came in on a ship canister as a bundle deal from one of the more northern
slave markets,” Azel answered, his eyes narrowing as Reggie’s thumb brushed
Theorin’s lower lip and his hazel eyes returning to rake over the slave. Azel
felt like he understood Reggie’s instant admiration, but also hated it in the
same breath.
Reggie dropped his hand from Theorin, but did not withdraw his eyes. “Acket.”
The man dressed in the all black suit took a step forward, “Yes, Reginald?”
“Take the slave and Bruce to the back barn and prepare him for showing,”
“Of course.” The man gave a little bow to Reggie, then motioned from Bruce to
follow. Bruce was lead to the right side of the house down a rock path through
the dead grass with Theorin in toe.
Both Reggie and Azel watched them leave and Azel couldn’t help but feel the
pang of hurt that hit his chest when Theorin didn’t look back.
“I’m absolutely thrilled,” said Reggie, breaking the silence. “Have you taken
him in bed with you yet?”
“Wh-what?” Azel was stunned. What had Reggie just asked him?
Reggie laughed and put an arm friendlily on top of Azel’s shoulders leading him
up the steps and toward the front door of the house that automatically opened
when they placed their feet on the last step.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”
“I guess I have...”
Azel’s voice carried off as he took in the entrance room of the mansion, a
tactic to try and dispel the embarrassment. Two sweeping stair cases came down
from a mighty cathedral ceiling. Their landings framed the left and right of a
huge copper sculpture of a racing horse, complete with the garland of woven
roses resting on its whither. The copper was a dark green from age but the
remarkable detail could still be seen in the lines of the horse’s face; big doe
eyes, flaring nostrils, and gentle lips.
“So this was an actual thoroughbred farm?” The question gurgled out of Azel,
partly in surprise, as he thought the whole set up was some kind of marketing
ploy, and also in amazement. This farm would have to be hundreds, possibly
thousands of years old.
“It was indeed. It was started by my seven times great grandfather.”
Azel’s jaw almost went slack, “That was before The Great World War.”
“Incredible, isn’t it?”
“Yes, very,” Azel said quietly to cover his awe and followed Reggie as the man
began to climb the stairs to the left.
When they reached the top they entered a room with a desk and several comfy
chairs. Behind the desk sat a little blond woman, with big blue eyes. She had
been typing on a computer, but looked up when Azel and Reggie entered.
“Malise, I’d like you to meet Azel Cantash,”
Malise nodded to Azel, “It’s nice to meet you,” she said, then turned her
attention back to Reggie. “Would you like me to send some tea up for you, sir?”
“That would be lovely, I’m sure Azel is parched after his long drive.”
“Yes, thank you,” said Azel. He could definitely use a cup of tea.
Reggie ushered him into a door to the right of Malise’s desk, and into what he
assumed was Reggie’s office. Their was a desk that he could see, despite the
ungodly amount of papers stacked on top of it, and two couches on either side
of a wooden coffee table. Reggie motioned to the couches and sat down on the
opposite one that Azel moved towards.
“Let’s see those papers now, shall we,”
Azel took his briefcase setting on the table and unclipped it. He took out
Theorin’s folder and put it to the side then began to withdraw all the
contracts.
From then on their discussion was purely business and Azel was able to relax a
bit. The tea came and was quickly finished. Reggie had little concerns with the
contracts agreeing to sign every one. He presented his own contract for the
trial period. It seemed quite fair to Azel. Reggie would pay thirty percent of
the agreed upon sale price and after a month, if the slave would not fit the
breeding farm’s needs the slave would be sent back and Azel would keep the
thirty percent. The last contract he floated in front of Azel was for the
potency test. If the slave turned out to be sterile, then all the contracts
that Reggie signed were void and the slave would be immediately returned to
Azel and Reggie would be refunded the thirty percent.
After everything was said and done they shook hands and stood. Malise poked her
head into the office.
“Excuse me, sir. Acket called and he says they are ready for the showing.”
A smile spread across Reggie’s face that Azel couldn’t read, “Perfect timing,
we have just finished. Tell him we will be one our way.”
“Yes, sir”
“While we’re gone will you make copies of all of these contracts and place
Theorin’s file to await entry into the studbook?”
“Of course, sir.”
“Thank you, Malise”
 
THE WALK FROM THE BACK OF THE house and to the barns was short and followed a
stone path that fascinated Azel. It was far from new and it felt like some
ancient walkway into the past. Any path now a days was plain concrete or just
dirt or gravel.
Reggie made small talk with him on the way, asking about his past, what he took
in school. Azel learned in turn that Reggie was partners with his father in the
breeding company. His father owned a training center on Kepler One. Reggie had
taken over the breeding part, while his father dealt more with the selling.
“He tells me I have an aptitude for breeding slaves, although I don’t really
know what he means by that. I’ve just studied a lot of genetics and sometimes
my matches don’t work out but most of the time they do.” Reggie sighed then, “I
think it’s mostly luck.”
“You believe in luck?” Azel questioned. Not that he doubted luck, but he
believed everything happened for a reason.
“I do, and you don’t? A beautiful slave like the one we have waiting for us
isn’t found in ship canisters every day, Azel. What you got was a golden struck
of very potent luck.”
“I suppose,” Azel was lost in his thoughts when Acket met them on the path only
feet away from the first barn.
“The slave is prepared and ready,”
“Perfect,” Reggie clapped his hands once. An oddly childish mannerism, thought
Azel. Reggie did seem a bit childish with excitement.
They moved toward the front door of one of the barns. Azel was fascinated to
see that the once huge wooden stalls were now converted into rooms for the
slaves. Nothing about them had changed much, besides dark screens behind the
once plain bars of the top half of the stall.
“I’ll take you for a tour after the showing of course,” Reggie said when he
noticed Azel’s fascination. “The farm has some fascinating renovations and
rebuilds.”
They turned into a open room and Azel’s reply caught in his throat. Theorin
stood in his inspection stance, legs wide with his hands at his sides, and butt
naked. Someone had oiled him and his skin shone in the sun that came in through
the several large skylights from where he stood in the center of the room on a
small circular stage. His skin was almost pale enough and the sunlight was
almost light enough to hide most of his scars.
 There was an amphitheater of sorts that went around the stage with small
tables and folded chairs on each level that covered about half the room. Only
one table was set up with two chairs unfolded and had plates and food on it.
Azel barely registered what the food even was as him and Reggie sat down.
Theorin didn’t move a muscle, not even a flicker of his eyes, when Azel and
Reggie had walked in and sat down. Azel couldn’t help but notice that Theorin
was half hard. His cock bobbed a bit when he breathed, and his eyes were half
hooded.
“He is absolutely exquisite,” Reggie said before he took a bite of a sandwich.
“When will the show start?”
Reggie stopped chewing and swallowed quickly, confusion riddling his face. “The
show? Oh, you must mean the showing.” He moved a hand to Theorin, “This is it.”
“Just the slave standing in the middle?”
“Yes,” Reggie took another bite of his sandwich before he spoke again,
amusement gleaming in his warm eyes. “I suppose you are used to those barbaric
auctions, aren’t you.”
Azel looked down, and his ears heated. Was he that embarrassed? Did Reggie know
what when on at those auctions?
“This is the higher end of the slave world, Azel. Their semen isn’t wasted in
pornographic shows to make the bids roll in. You can be assured that Theorin
will me treated very well here. We make a point to keep our studs in perfect
physical and mental condition.”
Azel’s head shot up at that. “Mental?”
Reggie gave him a comforting smile. “A stud’s mental state needs to be
evaluated to insure that we understand what arouses him. And the more
comfortable a stud is, the more willing they are to engage in sexual activity
with the chosen brood. Stress isn’t good for anyone, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes,” said Azel. His stomach rumbled and he hope Reggie hadn’t heard. He took
a sandwich and bit down.
Reggie’s eyes had returned to Theorin, who hadn’t moved a muscle in all the
time they had been talking.
“Turn around.” Reggie’s voice commanded, loud and clear.
Theorin turned gracefully, so his back side faced their table.
“He’s still quite underweight, what have you been feeding him?”
Azel new his eyes darkened at the question. Although his ribs still protruded
from his skin, and his vertebrae was visible from where Azel and Reggie sat,
Theorin had gained at least ten pounds since being dragged out of the sea can.
“He’s been getting mostly liquids and soups. We’ve only had him for a month,
and you understand the condition that we got him in.”
“Yes, of course. We will treat his diet delicately. Can’t have him losing any
calories from an upset stomach.”
A black suited figure, much like Acket but one that Azel didn’t recognize
walked to the stage and up to Theorin. He clipped a lead onto the collar and
led the slave off the stage.
“I have a few other studs we will have brought in for a showing, and there is a
couple I think you would be interested in. They’re from a pleasure stock
lineage, but are quite athletic.”
“We don’t breed anything really, we don’t have the facility for raising
slaves.” Azel said as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
“If you’re ever interested, just let me know.”
Azel let the offer hang in the air, as a new slave was led into the stage.
Reggie kept the conversation going, explaining about each stud they were shown.
He told how he or his father had obtained them, and there were two that his
grandfather had bred. What shocked Azel most of all was the condition of the
slaves. Their hair was kept long, although some had their hair pulled back or
in a bun, and they were fit. Their defined muscles rippled as they walked on
and off the stage. Like Theorin, they were completely naked, and Azel couldn’t
help but stare.
“The brood slaves prefer them to look like that, and it makes breeding a lot
easier when the brood is willing.”
 “I would assume, it would,” said Azel as
they both stood up as the last slave was lead out of the room.
The tour was next and Azel tried so very hard not to stare at the beautiful
architecture of the barns. The farm was made up four barns. One was used solely
for showing, and the stalls were used as preparation rooms. The other barn was
used as the breeding barn or as Reggie called it with some affection the
“breeding shed”. The breeding shed was empty as they walked through it. Reggie
explained that they breed all of their broods in the spring. Other than that
they didn’t breed anything unless there was a miscarriage or somebody paying
for a live cover of one of the studs.
“What do you do with the child slaves?” asked Azel as they exited the breeding
barn. The hot sun beat down on them, which contrasted with a cool breeze that
sent goosebumps up Azel’s arms.
“The children stay with their dams until they’re around three years old. Then
we put them for sale. Most sell at that age, but the ones that don’t we train
as breeding and personal stock and their value just increases.Some children we
put a reserve on and keep as breeding stock, but everything is for sale for a
price.”
 
Unlike the preparation and breeding rooms the stalls in the brood barn were
left without screens so you could see in them easily. There was usually a large
bed and what looked like a temporary wall around what must be a small bathroom.
The rooms were small but comfortable. Their was cosy carpets on top of the
wooden floors and the female slaves looked... happy. Some stalls were empty
while others housed maybe three or four and they chatted quietly. A couple here
and there even had a child on their lap.
“The females like to visit with each other, and it helps establish bonds. I
would have lost one of my best broods if her friend hadn’t come running all the
way to the house.”
Azel smiled at Reggie then, although he new it didn’t reach his eyes. The man
did care for his slaves, whether it was genuine or just for a profit that met
his high morals Azel didn’t know but he felt something in himself ease a bit.
Theorin would be just fine. He had to keep telling himself that.
The stud barn was a lot like the brood barn, but the studs tended to keep more
to themselves. There was one stall with two in it but they just seemed to be
lounging around.
“Theorin will have a stall prepared for him in this barn so he can get used to
the atmosphere and schedule during his trial basis.” Reggie said as they
strolled passed more stalls.
“Where is Theorin now?” replied Azel. He didn’t know what had made him ask that
but he saw the sun setting lower in the sky. They would have to get going soon,
but there was a desperate need in him to see Theorin one last time.
Azel wasn’t expecting the sympathetic look that he got from Reggie. “He’s still
in one of the prep rooms in the showing barn. I could take you to him if you’d
like to have a last good bye before you leave.”
Azel nodded, “Please.” He was afraid to say anymore incase his voice cracked.
***** VII *****
Somehow, Azel wasn’t surprised that the barns had retained their vintage
sliding doors. He took a step inside the prep room, his boots making muffled
thuds on the wooden floor inside.
Reggie’s voice came from behind him as the door was slowly slid shut, “Take all
the time you need.”
Azel nodded, not looking back, and walked in the dimly lit room. The only light
cam from the small barred window at the back of the room. The room didn’t have
a bed and comfy carpets or chairs like the slave quarters did. There was a
steel exam table pushed against one wall and a bath tub was installed into a
back corner. A couple shelves and cupboards were installed around the room.
Where was Theorin?
Azel was answered when he spotted two feet peaking out from behind a floor to
ceiling cabinet trying to be unseen in the corner.
“Theorin?”
The mop of auburn hair, almost black in the dim light, popped out from behind
the cupboard. Suspicion was disclosed in the line of expression in his eyes.
“Theorin, it’s m-”
Azel saw the recognition dawn across Theorin’s face half way through his
sentence, then the slave leapt at him.
Wiry arms wrapped around his neck, and despite the boney condition of the
slave, his unexpected weight still caused Azel to stagger. Azel had to take a
couple steps back to balance and by that time he had already hit the wall. He
slowly slid down until he sat on the floor, gathering Theorin into his arms.
They hadn’t given Theorin back his slave clothes yet or bathed him, so the skin
of his back was warm and slick beneath Azel’s hands. He smelt heavenly though,
the oil they used leaving a cinnamon undertone to his scent that had already
wrapped around Azel like a blanket. Azel pressed his lips to Theorin’s neck, so
gentle and tender that it engendered a ripple effect of complete relaxation
down Theorin’s back. The slave had his entire body weight pressed into Azel,
his face buried behind Azel’s ear. Azel could feel the hairs on his head move
with each of Theorin’s breathes.
“I- I have to leave soon.” Azel hesitantly whispered. Theorin didn’t reply, but
Azel knew he heard by the way his arms wrapped tighter around him. After a
small moment, Theorin brought their foreheads together. They shared their
breath, inhaling what the other had exhaled, noses touching. Azel memorized the
curve of Theorin’s lips, the way his teeth peaked from behind the rouge tinted
flesh. His eyes lifted up to see those violet eyes one more time, and at that
moment Azel became utterly lost in a nebula of amethyst, and, if only for that
brief moment until Theorin blinked and broke the spell, Azel had seen oblivion,
and tasted the stars.
He came to his senses as Theorin’s tongue barraged his mouth, its flat plane
drawing the air from his chest and skimming over his teeth. Theorin’s grasp had
moved from his neck to his back, the nimble clutching fingers following the
groove of his spine. He didn’t notice one of those hands creeping lower, until
they cupped the bulge in his pants. Blood rushed from his brain and into his
loins making his head dizzy and his clothes feel too hot and restricting.
Azel placed his hand on the wrist that caused the tide of lust to rage inside
him, attempting to pull Theorin’s hand away.
“Stop...” Azel said, but it came out more as a hiss.
The hand that had been rubbing his cock through his pants stopped, but the word
uttered from Theorin was defiant.
“No.”
A final, no argument will change anything, response. One that was never to be
uttered by a slave. The taboo of Theorin’s blatant disobedience only dawned on
Azel when Theorin drew away from him immediately, eyes wide and limbs tucked
close to his torso, cowering, awaiting punishment.
“Theorin.” Azel’s voice was thick with concern. “It’s alright. I won’t...” he
touched Theorin’s shoulder cautiously.
Theorin flinched, but looked up at Azel,his purple eyes showing a mixture of
horror and acceptance.
“I’m not going to beat you for defying me.” Azel grabbed Theorin’s face between
his hands. “These may be our final moments together, and I won’t stand for the
memory to anything less than what you want to do, not what you think you have
to do. Do you understand?”
“Azel, you can’t--I don’t know if I can...”
Azel dropped his hands from Theorin’s face to open them wide, palms to the
ceiling of the little room. Opening himself up. Offering.
“I’m yours.”
The air became thick. Periwinkle blazed like two beacons on a dark night.
“You have no idea what you are asking.”
The timber of Theorin’s voice had drastically changed; it was deeper, and held
a brogue to it that Azel had never heard him speak with before. And despite the
warning of those words, they sent heat and shivers, transcending completely
through Azel’s body.
“Theorin,” Azel breathed the words and meant them as a plea; for Theorin to
understand that he needed him. Before Azel could take his next breath Theorin
had slammed him to the ground so hard that his head bounced off the wooden
floor.
Azel saw stars swirl across his vision, and a heavy weight was pressed against
his chest, making his next inhale a desperate wheeze, barely getting enough air
into his lungs.
 His chest still felt tight and his gasp came out as a croak when Theorin
pressed his lips to Azel’s stomach, having nimbly undone the buttons of his
shirt.
Azel’s vision cleared as his chest opened up to let in enough oxygen. Theorin
stood crouched above him, still naked and oiled, cock so stiff it curved up
towards his flat stomach. The slave’s hands rubbed Azel’s chest as he coughed a
little, then went back to dragging his lips across Azel’s torso. Finger’s
bumping over each sinewy ridge.
Azel tried to sit up, but he found his head swam and gently set himself back
down. Theorin placed his hands on either side of Azel shoulders and stared down
at him, his forelock of auburn hair pulled down by gravity and nearly touching
Azel’s forehead.
“You’re okay?”
But his words were rough and quick, sending a flint of fear into Azel. It still
didn’t sound like Theorin. The voice was too deep and the accent was odd and
foreign.The air that escaped from those words ghosted over Azel’s face as he
just swallowed and nodded.
Theorin brought his one knee to the other side of Azel’s hips and straddled
him. Their chests brushed as Theorin leaned down to kiss Azel. Theorin’s tongue
was dominating, plunging through Azel’s lips with such force that Azel was
forced to tip his head back, exposing his throat. Theorin’s fingers twisted
through Azel’s hair forcing his head back even further. Theorin broke the kiss
bringing his teeth to scrape the skin beside Azel’s Adam’s apple, following
with a soothing lap of his tongue.
Azel’s body rippled with the sensation. His skin shivered with lust and sweat
and he let his hands cling to Theorin’s back, digging is nail’s into the oiled
skin.
His grip slowly slipped to the nape of Theorin’s neck, and then to his mop of
auburn hair as the kisses trailed to below Azel’s navel.
Theorin made quick work of the leather belt and pulled the sticking layers off
of Azel, freeing his cock. It bounced against his stomach, pre-cum dripping
from its end like clear candle wax.
“Theorin,” came Azel’s breathy voice.
“Hush.”
The whisper was a scold from the slave, but the lips that wrapped around Azel’s
crown blasted away any thought. His back arched and his breath hitched so
violently he didn’t think he’d be able to breath again. A hand held his shaft,
the pressure making him squirm. The digits of the other hand cupped his
scrotum, rolling each hot, velvety ball, in palm. Theorin’s tongue meandered
from Azel’s scrotum and up his shaft before the brave slave dipped the tip of
his tongue into the little slit at the end of Azel’s cock.
Head flying backward, all Azel wanted was to push himself all the way into
Theorin’s mouth and let that slick cavern of heat melt him into nothing. It
took almost everything he had to not move his hips upwards in a thrust to meet
the bobbing movements and increase the tempo.
“Stop, stop teasing me...” Azel managed to gasp.
Theorin mumbled something as he kissed Azel’s cock. The vibrations rocked
through Azel, his hips twitching. Theorin crawled up and placed a long kiss on
Azel’s lips. Azel tasted himself, hot and musky, on Theorin’s tongue.
When they broke the kiss Theorin was wearing that smile, and it hooked onto
something in Azel’s chest. Theorin’s auburn hair, bright with highlights from
the afternoon sun that shone through the small window, and eyes a molten
purple. Azel tried to memorize the picture of Theorin in his head, to keep it
forever; to paste it to what he was feeling at that moment and suspend it
within time and space.
Azel was ripped from his thoughts by a wave of pleasure that undulated his
body. Theorin’s hand was back on his genitals, kneading, and his lips were on
Azel’s right nipple. Theorin’s hand began to take long strokes, his palm on
Azel’s balls and his fingers taunting the cleft of Azel’s ass cheeks. They
slipped deeper, rubbing against Azel’s hole.
Azel knew how gay sex worked, he wasn’t an idiot. And god did he ever want some
gay sex from Theorin, but the feeling of fingers playing with him down there
made him tense up. Theorin froze above him.
“I’ll stop if you want me to,” Theorin’s voice was deep and gravely, but
sincere.
Azel lifted himself up a bit on his elbows looking down at his stomach where
his red, tumescent cock raged at him for making Theorin halt in his attentions.
“I don’t want you to stop but...” He dared a glance at Theorin’s face, who
looked slightly confused but waited, ever patient.
“It’s going to hurt a lot, isn’t it.”
Confusion and shock battled over Theorin’s features, “What ever gave you
that... “ then those purple eyes widened and sifted into sadness,
“Oh, Azel,” Theorin’s hand reached out a cupped Azel gently on each side of his
face, his voice almost a whisper. “It should never have to hurt at all, not if
you’re doing it with someone who loves you.”
Loves you? Azel’s brain was a whirlwind of thoughts and his chest didn’t know
what to do with the emotions. His breath came out faster.
“Azel?” Theorin’s voice was cautious and his hands dropped from Aze’s face to
rub the side of his arms. “Are you okay?”
“Yah I’m... I’m...” Azel couldn’t find the words, so instead he reached up and
wrapped his arms around Theorin’s neck and planted his lips to Theorin’s.
Theorin wrapped his arms around Azel tight, lifting him up into a crushing
embrace. The hot flesh of their cocks rubbed against each other deliciously.
Azel thrusted, gasping hotly into Theorin’s mouth, who returned with a kiss of
equal fervor.
Theorin’s wide hands grabbed Azel’s butt, pulling him flush, hip to chin, so
Azel was nearly sitting on his lap. His fingers gingerly explored the round
globes, massaging and occasionally slipping into the heated crack. The next
time Theorin’s fingers brushed Azels hole, Azel clung to Theorin tighter and
did not stop him.
The sound of a lid popping open was simultaneous with the smell of sandal wood
and cinnamon that shot through Azel’s olfactory system. The oil. What would
Theorin open the oil for?
Then, Theorin slid his middle finger in, just to the first knuckle. Azel sucked
in his breath, but it didn’t hurt, and as he exhaled, Theorin pushed his finger
in farther, his thumb rubbing and stroking Azel’s perineum, everything slick
and frictionless from the oil. “You need to relax, Azel.”
Azel nodded against Theorin’s shoulders, his forehead sweaty against Theorin’s
oiled skin.
“Breathe, Azel, breathe.”
Azel let air fill his lungs and then exhaled slowly. As his muscles relaxed the
finger probed deeper. A second finger stretched the puckering hole. Azel
whimpered and writhed against Theorin, the oil starting to tingle on his
sensitive skin. Every move Theorin now made caused rivulets of pleasure to
crash trough Azel. He felt like his limbs were no longer their own as with each
movement of Theorin’s fingers, they wriggled and gripped wildly.
Their cocks still rubbed together and the stimulation was getting to both of
them. Sweltering in the throes of lust and need, Azel bucked his hips,
delighting at the frictions on both erogenous parts of his body.
Theorin gasped, and moved with Azel, making sure to keep his fingers in time
with the rhythm that he had set and hit the little internal nub.
Azel was undone. Each movement sent shivers wracking through his body. His
breath came out of him in puffs and he was no longer hunched over into Theorin,
but arched with his head thrown back wildly, releasing a silent cry of ardor.
Theorin stopped and pulled his fingers from Azel and backed up from him enough
that the stunned fair haired man ended up on his hands and knees to remain
upright as much as he could manage, his support drawn away. Azel glared with
eyes like molten tar, his groin on fire with enough turgidity to make it
painful.
“Theorin--” Azel’s head and chest were pushed to the ground from a strong palm
that pushed in between his shoulder blades. Azel was forced to turn his head to
the side from the pressure and placed his palms flat, trying to take the strain
off of his neck. Theorin fought him, keeping his front on the ground.
“Stay still,” again with the dark tone.
Azel obeyed, until he felt something much thicker than two fingers enter his
rectum. He scrambled, and his eyes watered from the burn. Strong arms grabbed
his and pulled them behind his back so his head and chest had no buffer from
the floor. The grip was bruising. A trace of fear laced up Azel’s spine, until
a hand that was not holding his arms rested gently on his lower back and began
to massage it.
“Relax, or the burn is going to be worse.”
All Azel could do was nod and gasp as Theorin pushed into him, the ridges of
his cock stressing Azel’s ring of muscle.
The burn went deeper and deeper, until Azel felt like he would sob. Their was
an ache in his gut and his body quivered, responsive only to the hot foreign
flesh that pierced his body.
“Azel,” The voice sounded distant, and Azel’s head swam.
The hand let go of his arms and wrapped around his torso, pulling Azel up so
his back was pressed agains Theorin’s chest, but at the level to stand on his
hands again. He placed them shakily underneath himself, his breath coming in
heaving gasps once he remembered to breath again.
The movement from Theorin’s repositioning causing a burst of pleasure through
his groin and he pressed his lips together to suppress a groan.
Lips traced his spine from his nape to the middle of his shoulders, tender
kisses mixed with the graze of teeth. Theorin withdrew, causing a wave of
molten heat inside of Azel’s abdomen. Then he pushed back in deeper. More
burning but less pain, and as the movement repeated and the pace got faster
Azel felt himself gasping a writhing with every thrust of Theorin’s cock.
Theorin slammed, balls deep, the tops of his oiled thighs slapping against the
back of Azel’s. Azel collapsed onto his elbows from the force, and raised his
hands to grip at his own hair, trying to stifle the uncontrollable undulation
of his body against Theorin’s hips. It felt good, now that he lost himself in
Theorin’s massaging hands, and unyielding attentions. The pressure had built in
his cock, so the turgid flesh slapped against his stomach from every downward
motion of Theorin’s hips.
Azel lifted one of his hands and grabbed his own cock, the over stimulated
flesh flaming at skin to skin contact just from his hand. Theorin grabbed
Azel’s wrist tightly and pulled his hand away. Azel wanted to protest, but was
stopped by Theorin’s fondling of his balls. The slave’s thrusting had grown
slower, and deeper and those exploring fingers explored the seam where their
flesh joined. Azel had to press his forehead hard into the wooden floor to keep
from falling apart and ejaculating right there. It wasn’t until Theorin’s hands
returned to his shaft and grazed his long fingers over Azel’s shaft that he let
himself go as his balls drew tight. The white rope of cum splattered on the
wood floor and hit his neck and chest and he couldn’t help but cry out as he
gasped at the feeling that rolled deep in his belly. His body clenched; abs,
pelvic muscles, even his legs. The clamping let Theorin loose, his semen
jetting deep into Azel’s passage and he felt it, alien and hot.
His legs and arms like jelly, Azel wanted nothing more than to collapse to the
floor, but Theorin held him up as he rode the his last surge of his orgasm,
still thrusting into Azel. When he was finally lowered to the floor, Theorin
pulled gently out of him with a pop. He felt the sticky presence of Theorin’s
completion leak from his quivering rectum, the muscle gaping then squeezing
tightly shut. Theorin’s stroking hands left him and returned with a warm cloth
that gently cleaned between his legs.
Eyes closed, Azel felt rather than saw Theorin nudge his shoulder to roll him
onto his back. The cloth washed his own cum from his skin and after it was done
and Theorin placed a gentle kiss onto Azel’s lips. Azel opened his eyes and
lifted his hand to cup Theorin’s face. They were no longer kissing, but their
faces were close enough that they shared breaths.
“You smell like sex.”
Theorin deadpanned delivery was so on key that it sent Azel into a fit of
laughter. He sat up, despite how much it hurt his insides to laugh this hard
and wrapped his arms around Theorin’s neck and buried his faced into the groove
just above his collar bone. “So do you,” he managed to breath out, but unsure
if the slave had heard him or not.
Theorin helped him to stand and then to dress, finishing buttoning up Azel’s
shirt by giving him a kiss on the lips again.
Theorin looked down, hands still on Azel’s shoulders.
“I- I’m going to miss you,” he said without looking up. His voice was back to
normal now, not as powerful and it had lost it’s unique borough.
Azel grabbed his chin and tilted it up so he could see those eyes and look into
their haunting depths one last time.
“I hope I’ve done the best I can for you and that you will be happy and safe
here.”
The saddest look crossed over Theorin’s face. “I’ll never see you again, will
I.” It wasn’t a question.
It was Azel’s turn to look down, “I’ll miss you too.” And he dropped his hand
slowly from Theorin’s face, turned and walked out of the room, without looking
back.
*********
Azel would have thought he’d have a hard time keeping it together emotionally,
but he made it through the goodbyes to Reginald and his staff. He partly
believed that it was from the inner turmoil inside of him and as his thoughts
drifted to the past event, confusion twisting it’s ugly colour within the
memories.
He had let Theorin dominate him, use him, and god he knew he had liked it. It
was like he could finally release some control and hand it over to someone
else, and his stress had been entirely lifted. His body was a little battered
from the activity, but if his uneven gait was noticed by anybody they didn’t
say anything.
As promised, Bruce took Azel to the beet farm. He walked aimlessly while Bruce
and his friend joked. Azel did try to look like he was paying attention while
the man explained how they got their water, how they planted and watered the
beets and finally how they harvested.
 It was interesting to find out that they only had slaves during the harvest
season. They would hire the amount needed for the years yield from a type of
leasing business which ended up being much cheaper then getting their own
slaves.
“It’s not that hard to teach it how to pull a plant out of the dirt in ten
minutes,” Their honorary tour guide explained.
As fascinating as it was Azel found he had barely retained the experience, his
mind constantly wandering back to Theorin and over analyzing every little
detail of their encounter, or rather replaying it in his head.
He barely remembered the drive home, as long as it was, and Bruce kept quiet,
not asking any questions, although the man came close a few times.
When they finally pulled in the drive, the house was dark and settled in for
the night. Bruce and Azel wandered into the kitchen for a late super then
walked in companionable silence down the hallway to their rooms. Bruce placed a
hand on Azel’s shoulder, pausing them both.
“You sure you’ll be alright?”
Not wanting to be rude, Azel didn’t push Bruce’s hand away, but walked out of
the touch to turn to the handler and gave a small smile. “I’m sure. Good night,
Bruce”
Satisfied, Bruce walked past Azel to his own room, disappearing down the dimly
lit hall way.
Azel opened his door, and let himself settle into his own space. A rush of
exhaustion hit him like a two-by-four to the head. He didn’t bother turning on
the lights or changing out of his travel wrinkled business clothes, and flopped
down on top of his comforter and closed his eyes.
***** VIII *****
When that door shut, Theorin didn’t move but his breath came in quick pants and
his eyes burned. His chest felt so tight and he tried to wipe away the hot
tears from his face but it became futile as his quiet sob echoed in the room
that now felt so empty, but still smelled of their love making.
Theorin had known it would never last. Azel had refused him until the last
moment, and he was once again reminded of how broken he was. He was a slave,
who no one wanted except for his eyes. So why did this hurt so damn much?
Confusion was a torrent though Theorin that seemed to heighten his emotions and
he fell to his knees. He had thought that he wanted Azel because of the young
man’s gentle hands, his bashful innocence and those gentle words that made
Theorin feel like he was something more than a slave. Just for a few seconds.
What a fool he had been.
The sobs continued and the tears fell freely, even as the door to the room
opened. Stunned out of his emotional display, Theorin looked up into the faces
of Reginald and the handler who had prepared him for the showing. They had been
talking excitedly, but both of their faces fell when they saw Theorin.
Reginald approached Theorin cautiously as he asked the handler to start the
bath. Theorin didn’t even register the water in the tub being turned on and
scrambled away from Reginald, trying to wipe the evidence off of his tears from
his face.
“It’s okay, Theorin.” Reginald said soothingly holding up his hands palms
facing forward. “Here we do not reprimand anybody for showing when they are
upset as long as it is within reason.”
Theorin took a moment to study Reginald’s non threatening body language before
he gave a slow nod.
“I understand that it has been a long day for you and it was hard to say good
bye to your old master, but I’m going to need you to cooperate and get used to
our routine here. Can you do that for me?”
Cooperate. The word rolled around Theorin’s head. It felt odd. He didn’t think
anybody had ever asked him to cooperate before. He bowed his head, eyes to the
floor, “Yes, Master.”
“Sir, the bath is ready,” said the handler.
Reginald motioned for Theorin to enter the tub, “Let’s get that oil off of you
now.”
The water was hot but not enough to burn or even to hurt. It was rather
comfortable and Theorin tried to contemplate the oddness of it. He remembered
cold showers that left his lips blue and ones that were so hot he was surprised
when the skin didn’t scar, but never once had he had a bath. The water
surrounded him, relaxing and calming. So much so, he wasn’t even that startled
when a cloth touched his back and started lathering him in soap.
Both Reginald and the handler scrubbed him quickly, getting all of the oil off
his skin with a gentle soap leaving it so soft, his scars felt like they were
no longer present. They cleaned him from head to toe and afterward they wrapped
him in a terri cloth bathrobe and settled him down in a chair.
The handler cut his hair and brushed it, while Reginald went on about a
customized eating schedule for him and how he would be implemented into the
fitness program once he gained a bit more weight. Theorin sat quietly watching
as a couple mats fall from where they were cut from his head. When his hair had
been blow dried and the handler removed the robe and fitted him with slave garb
that was a soft synthetic cotton, not the scratchy polyester of the other ones
he had worn, Reginald and the handler led him out of the room and out of the
barn. Even the canvas shoes they had given him were of higher quality than he
had ever worn and he practically bounced as he followed between Reginald and
the handler across the brick path to another barn. They hadn’t clipped on a
leash, or even bothered putting his collar back on after his bath but he hadn’t
noticed until they were already inside the other barn.
They stopped at a door identical to the one they had left behind in the other
building, and Reginald knocked gently twice.
The door opened and Theorin was startled to find not a handler but a slave open
the door with a smile.
“Good afternoon, Master” The slave did not wear a collar and nor did he keep
his eyes to the ground while addressing Reginald, he simply bowed his head in
respect and his smile was genuine.
“Good afternoon to you too, Goshar.” He motioned to Theorin, “This is Theorin.”
“Ah, so the rumor’s were true,” Goshar lowered his massive frame to get a
better look at Theorin. Theorin wanted to take a step back but didn’t dare.
Goshar was close to seven feet tall, with huge wide shoulders and biceps like
tree trunks. His hair was in glossy black dread locks that stopped at his waist
and his face was exotic, with a dark chestnut complexion and yellow eyes.
“There is a new one among us.” Goshar looked back to Reginald. “He is too
skinny to be a stud though, no?”
Reginald just laughed, “We’re going to feed him up, don’t worry. I’d like you
to get him settled though. He will be taking the spare bunk in this room for
the time being and I’d like you to introduce him to everyone when at supper
tonight. Make sure he doesn’t get into any trouble.”
Goshar gave another respectful nod, “I will do that Master,” and motioned for
Theorin to enter the room. Although it was a slave’s quarters it contained high
quality flooring, wood that was smooth and polished under Theorin’s feet, and
there was a soft rug under each of the cots that sat at opposite ends of the
room. In the middle of the far wall was a small window and on either side were
two dressers that looked like very detailed fake wood. Which was Goshar’s side
was obvious. There were a couple pots of tiny plants adorning the top of the
dresser and a book or two -he was allowed possessions?- and his cot was made
but heavily wrinkled where he had perhaps been sitting before they had knocked
on the door.
“I’ll leave you two then,” said Reggie as he turned from the room.
Goshar bowed his head before he closed the door. “Goodbye master.”
 
The silence that fell across the room wasn’t uncomfortable, but Theorin’s
intuition was telling him that Goshar was absolutely brimming with questions.
The big man had settled back onto his cot with a book but was constantly
fidgeting. His fingers brushing the unread pages, his weight shifting as if he
could not find a comfortable position.
Theorin had taken to inspecting his new living space. His hands hesitantly
brushed the blanket on the cot, finding it soft to the touch and thick. He had
never had a warm blanket before. The bed was also adorned with a pillow which
looked quite fluffy and inviting. He pushed his hand down on it surprised that
there was indeed a good resistance of cushioning.
“It won’t swallow you up, you know.”
Goshar’s words made Theorin jump considerably, despite him already knowing that
the man was there and watching his every move. He turned to face him, tempted
to sit on the bed, but instead just let the backs of his knees brush it.
“The bed. You’re allowed to do what you want with it planning you use it for
what it’s made for.” Those amber eyes shone curiously, waiting for a response.
Theorin didn’t know what to say, so instead he just sat, and resisted to sigh
at the softness of the padded cot.
Goshar still studied him and how now abandoned his book completely. “So, where
are you from?”
Theorin gave him a quizzical look.
“You know, what farm? Pickert’s, Dachbey’s, Bosch? Please tell me you’re not
from Lochephell.”
“I- I,” Theorin clenched his fists in his lap, frustrated by his sudden
shyness. “I’m not from a breeding farm.”
“So it was what then? Domestic? Personal? They is no way you were a labour
slave, you’re arms are like willow branches,” Goshar chuckled to himself to
hide his discomfort when Theorin didn’t respond to his gentle tease.
“I wasn’t any of those.”
It was Goshar’s turn to wear the quizzical look, “What were yah then?”
Theorin just looked to the ground. He didn’t really want to tell this slave
about his past. He tried not to remember it most days and the only thing that
had been holding it off until now was thinking about Azel. But now Azel’s gone,
said a little betraying voice inside of him, stirring the melting sadness that
was lodged in the deepest corner of his chest.
Theorin almost didn’t recognise Goshar’s voice when he spoke through their
second bout of silence. “Medical or torture?”
“Both,” his answer was breathy and nearly a whisper, but he said it without
hesitation. He didn’t think Goshar had heard until the other slave sucked in a
breath as though he winced.
“Shit, man.”
There was more silence.
“Bet you must be one tough fucker,”Goshar said, his ton once again playful and
casual. “And here I thought the Master bought you to breed pretty eyed scrawny
little twinks. Teaches me some to not judge a book by it cover.”
Theorin didn’t feel up to responding and encouraging Goshar, but he slipped the
slave a small smile and looked up at him. Goshar had his book back in his hand
and gave it a slight waggle in Theorin’s direction.
“Can you read?”
“Only a little bit.” Theorin had never confessed that to anyone before, and his
face heated bashfully.
“A little bit is enough,” responded Goshar, almost jovially and no doubt
wondering how a slave with such a background learned how to read, even if it
was only a little. “Master has a small library that we are allowed to read
from. Mostly filled with adventures and sappy romances for the broods, but I’ve
found a couple interesting histories. Really old stuff that one of the handlers
found in his grandparents storage locker. It’s rumored that they’re made out of
real paper.”
Before Theorin had to decide whether to draw his stored energy out in order to
act as excited about the book as Goshar was, a bell rang from outside their
room.
Goshar jumped up, depositing his book on his bed and threw open the door before
looking back at Theorin with a large, toothy grin, “Meal time.”
 
The hallway was crawling with slaves. They all wore clothing identical to
Theorin’s and came in a variety of shapes and sizes. Some were massive, while
others looked like their natural body types were what Theorin’s body weight was
right now. They all seemed to walk and talk together, mingling at random but
greeting each other like long time friends. Theorin watched as long folded
tables were drawn out of hidden cupboards between the stalls by them, and then
unfolded and placed in the middle of the hallway, making one big long table.
Several clean clothes were placed over the table, making it look welcoming.
Some of the slaves straightened the cloth while some others sat down on the
bench that folded out of the table.
Goshar approached Theorin, “Come now, the food will be here any minute.”
Theorin followed Goshar silently to a group already sitting at the table. There
were about four others and Goshar introduced them with much exuberance. Sitting
to the left of him was Exca, a tall man, but he held nothing in shoulder width
compared to Goshar, with blonde locks in a top knot and nearly cerulean blue
eyes. Across from him sat a small man, Loicel, with feminine features and full
dark lips, Shoullen, an average looking slave although Goshar made sure to brag
up the endowment he had between his legs, and lastly Narik, an Adonis of a man,
although age lines adorned the corners of his eyes, with thick black curls and
a straight roman nose. They all practically cheered when the food was brought
in by some domestics, all older women, who wore bright smiles and chatted
easily with the studs as they served each one what looked like a different
plate.
Despite the din that the coming of the food had engendered from the exciting
studs sitting at the tables a clear shout rang out in the barn’s hallway.
“Theorin! Where is Theorin sitting?”
“Over hear!” Boomed Goshar, who even held his hand up and waved it about,
despite it being the appendage that held his fork which sent a couple pieces of
his dinner to drop into his lap. He was lucky it didn’t land on his head.
A stout women came shuffling through the narrow path between the studs’s backs
at the stall walls with a plate of food in her hands. She plopped it down in
front of Theorin before turning to Goshar.
“It would be you. Poor new fella, Goshar hasn’t made your ears bleed from all
his talk about plants has he?”
Theorin only knew her words were directed at him when she placed a gentle hand
on his shoulder.
“No, mam” He didn’t look up when he spoke, but his words were followed by a
great guffawing, gut busting laugh out of the stout women, which made Theorin
draw up and look at her in surprise.
“No one has ever called me mam in my entire life,” she even wiped a tear out of
the corner of her eye. “I like this one.”She said, finally sober, then left
with a gentle pat on Theorin’s shoulder and a good hard cuff on the back of
Goshar’s head, then disappeared out of the barn door.
“That was Maddi, one of the retired broods,” explained Goshar through a
mouthful of his supper. “She’s also my dam”
Theorin lifted his eyebrow.
“Oh,” Goshar turned in his seat a bit and swallowed his food. “Our father is
our sire and our mother is our dam. You’ll get used to the lingo here
eventually, for now that’s what I’m here for.” He flashed a toothy grin at
Theorin before one of the others - was it Shoullen? - started teasing him about
using the word “lingo”.
Theorin just nodded his head in acknowledgement and moved his food around his
plate. It was a soup and salad with a bread stick. The warm bread smelt
heavenly, the soup was a light broth with vegetables and the salad had
strawberries in it. Theorin couldn’t even remember that last time he had eaten
a strawberry. But he wasn’t hungry.
The socializing going on around him was so foreign, he felt like he should be
on his knees, not sitting at the table, with the other shouting and laughing
slaves. He tried to eat the bread stick before getting only two bites down,
each one feeling like it would get stuck in his throat.
Nervous shivers rolled up his spine and he could feel sweat start to bead at
the nape of his neck. Everything was suddenly so loud. The freely moving bodies
flashed flickering shadows across the skylights of the barn, and the lovely
smell of food was now the trigger for the nausea that roiled in Theorin’s
stomach. Someone was panting heavily, and Theorin didn’t realize it was him
until a surge of panic struck through him and the breathing stopped altogether.
He stood abruptly and tried to removed himself from the table, but he ended up
falling backwards on the bench, scrambling and panicking. His limbs flailed
like a startled animal.
“Theorin, hey, are you alright?” Goshar’s voice barely made it through the din
which was growing louder, competing with Theorin’s internal erratic breath.
A hand grabbed for his arm, and his body instantly fought it off. His mind
reeled back to grabbing hands and steel tables. The tubes and needles and how
painful it had been. Like someone had wrapped heated wire around his ribs and
throat. That pain in his chest dulled that which radiated through his limbs as
he bruised them against the side of the stall and the table. He needed to get
away. Away from the noise, away from those blinding lights that were always a
precursor before the pain.
The noise finally stopped and someone pushed the table away. Theorin felt
himself curl into a small ball against the stall and squeeze his eyes shut as
he slowly cam back to himself. The hallway was almost dead silent besides the
occasional soft curious whisper. Slow foot steps approached him, but he didn’t
dare move. He would be whipped for sure. He interrupted dinner and was an
unconsolable mess. Even the nicest slave master he had known would have him
punished.
He flinched violently when a soft hand came to rest on his back, but it settled
there for a moment to let him calm down.
“You’re alright Theorin. You’re in a safe place.” Cooed a voice. Theorin didn’t
know for sure but thought it sounded like Reginald. The hand rubbed some
circles on his back, gentle and slow, attempting to soothe.
A sob threatened Theorin’s composure catching in his chest. Tenderly, the other
hand titled Theorin up into a sitting position, but he dared not look upon the
face of who assisted him. He kept his eyes glued to the ground.
“Can you stand now?”
Theorin nodded, he didn’t dare say no, and slowly stood on wobbly legs. He was
still shaking.
He was led past the table, and much to his embarrassment met the worried eyes
of Goshar. Theorin’s plate and bowl upside down at his Goshar’s feet and there
were large yellow blotches of spilled soup on his uniform.
The handlers and Reginald didn’t touch Theorin, but flanked him for support as
they walked out of the silent barn and into the evening air. It was crisp, but
refreshing and Theorin found that it cleared the last of the rattles in his
emotional walls. They kept walking though, until they reached the small side
door of a very large house.
Theorin walked with his head down. There was no way he wasn’t going to be
punished for this. They would make sure he never had an outburst like that
again, and his mind reeled, gears grinding against gears, as he conjured up
some of his past tortures. Those images in his head made him shake harder, his
breath becoming ragged.
Something touched him on the shoulders and he flinched away from it. A thick
fleece blanket had been wrapped around his shoulders and was pulled tight and
snug to the center of his chest. He was so shocked that his eyes flew up to
Reginald's face.
The master’s eyes softened, and rubbed the sides of his arms through the
blanket as if to warm him.
“You’re not in trouble Theorin. In fact, this was probably my fault. Azel had
told me of your suspected past and I know better than to throw a new slave into
the social monstrosity that goes on in the barns, but you had been so well
behaved,” He tilted his head apologetically. “I thought you would be okay for a
meal with them, I’m sorry Theorin.”
Theorin was at a loss at this point. This was uncharted waters. Because of how
Azel had been with his tenderness and innocence it had been hard for Theorin to
think of him as a master; just a desperate young man who struggled with right
from wrong and tried his very hardest to do right by Theorin. Reginald, on the
other hand, was a slave master, a master breeder, who personally oversaw and
owned several hectares of earth soil and bred top quality organic slaves. He
should be the one to rule with an iron fist, and make sure every slave new it’s
place below him. Thus the confusion as that master’s hands gently guided
Theorin through the house and into a kitchen where a half eaten plate of food
sat at the head of a big table and a steaming bowl of soup sat to its left with
a clean spoon on the side.
Reginald pulled out the chair on the side and sat him down in front of the
bowl, before settling himself down and picking up the fork that had been
abandoned on his plate and giving a small wave with it’s prongs pointed in
Theorin’s direction.
“Please, eat.”
Theorin’s mouth was too dry to answer, so he just picked up the spoon and
dipped it into the soup, coming away with a couple small pieces of celery and
diced carrots. He let it cool on his spoon for a couple seconds then let the
spoon breach his lips. The soup wasn’t too salty, and had a nice taste to it.
Earthy and warm. Theorin swallowed and calmed as the food settled his stomach
and nerves.
Reginald had kept a keen eye on him the entire time. He seemed satisfied with
the one bite and dove back into his dish of rice and lentils as if he had never
left.
A domestic came in and gave them each a glass of water. Reginald thanked her,
then opened a hidden panel on his table and tapped the screen. A monitor
descended from the ceiling and flickered to life.
“Care to watch anything Theorin?”
With half the soup in his belly, Theorin’s mouth didn’t feel so dry. “No thank
you, Master.”
“Very well.”
Reginald flicked through the different stations until one landed on the news
with a reporter who sported a brave pink and red hairstyle with feathered
extensions. She was walking somewhere where it was snowing, her bright cheerful
voice echoing in the kitchen.
Theorin had no idea what she was talking about, waving her arms up and down
while lying in the snow. Several children came on the screen, giggling and
laughing in the cold powder with not a care in the world.
“We’ll have snow before we know it. The air is getting quite the chill when the
sun goes down.”
Theorin didn’t know how to respond, so instead set his spoon down beside his
bowl and stared at his remaining soup. He didn’t think he stomach could take
any more, but he didn’t want to stretch Reginald’s boundaries even more by not
finishing the meal.
To his chagrin, Reginald noticed.
 “If you’re full Theorin, you don’t have to finish it. I’d rather you not
finish than upset your stomach.”
“Thank you, Master,” Theorin responded without looking up.
“If you’d like to retire, Austace can show you to your rooms.”
Suddenly, the thought of a bed had Theorin’s lids drooping and he felt a yawn
stretch his jaw and clear his lungs.
Reginald motioned for the domestic who had filled there water glasses earlier.
She helped Theorin up out of the chair and guided him to the exit of the
kitchen.
“Goodnight, Theorin,” Reginald called before he exited.
“Good night, Master,” Theorin replied with a respectful nod.
Theorin was surprised he wasn’t lead back to the barn, but instead down a few
halls of the house. They came to a room that was quite similar to how the rooms
were in the barn, except this one had a much larger window, the dresser was
full size and there was the addition of a writing desk against the wall where
the other bunk would usually be.
Austace had turned back the blankets for him and Theorin gladly sank down into
the mattress. She pulled the blankets up to his shoulders and with a cheerful
“Sleep well” closed his door. The soft glow of the nearly set sun filtered
through the half closed drapes of the window, and lulled Theorin to sleep.
***** IX *****
Azel had been avoiding his uncle all week and it had been blatantly obvious.
He’d made sure to come to meals at the very latest or ridiculously early, which
hadn’t been hard with his non existent sleeping patterns, and had even stooped
so low as to cut one of his inspections short so he could get to the house
early and shamelessly hide in his room. So, it came as no surprise to him when
during a late lunch, he was summoned to his Uncle’s office.
He walked up the steps reluctantly, and nearly dragged his own feet to the
office door. He knocked.
“Come in!” came the oddly cheerful voice of his Uncle.
Azel would have thought he’d be angry with him and opened the door cautiously,
despite the joyful invitation.
His uncle sat as his desk, laptop open, and eyes on a printed sheet in his
hand. His eyes drew up to where Azel stood at the threshold of the office.
“What are you doing dawdling there boy, come in and shut the door.”
Azel did as asked and quickly sat himself in the chair across from his uncle of
whom wasted no time in getting down to why he was here.
“I took a call from Reginald Mulsberry this morning regarding the slave that
you sold him.”
Azel stiffened in his seat, his back went rigid and his nails dug into the
leather parts of the chair’s arm rests, but he did his best to keep his face
neutral. His uncle’s unusual gleeful tone had his nerves on edge.
“He said that it was finally coming over it’s fear of living with the other
studs. Something about the loud noises and high energy activity in the barns
triggering hysterics...”
Azel’s uncle kept talking but he didn’t here him. Worry and relief flooded him
in equal parts; so afraid that Theorin really couldn’t handle being back in a
structured slave operation, yet so thankful of the news that he was coming out
of it and learning to not be afraid.
“... even here me? Azel?” His uncle’s voice cut through his churning thoughts
and made his head shoot up to attention.
“Yes! Wha- what?”
His uncle laughed. “I have Johbri requesting a few weeks off for vacation so
you’ll cover for him and be the head handler of his district starting
tomorrow.”
Azel swallowed is surprise and dread. Johbri’s district was in the second mine,
making sure all of the slaves were kept in line, worked to meet quota, and
punished any who didn’t. Azel had never worked as a handler and the one time he
had punished a slave he’d nearly lost himself.
“Don’t look so intimidated, Azel, you’re as white as a sheet.” His uncle stood
and moved around the desk to place a hand on his shoulder. “I know you’ve never
taken the role as head handler before but now that you’ve had that experience
with the ex-torture slave I think you’ll do fine.” He gave him a pat on the
shoulder and walked to his office door, giving Azel a wave in parting as the
old oak creaked and drifted shut.
Azel wanted to have one of his own panic attacks. He couldn’t do this. He saw
it flash in front of his eyes; the beatings, the abuse, the euthanasias, the
cruelty that he would need to bear witness to.He couldn’t stand up, couldn’t
loosen his grip that he still had on the chair. He couldn’t do this!
The phone range and it jerked him out of his inner panic. He sat staring at the
phone, letting that ring scrape against his nerves until he lifted the receiver
slowly and put it to his ear.
“Earth Lentunite Mines, Azel speaking.”
“Oh good, I finally caught you in the house. The house isn’t your usual hide
out, is it? You prefer thousands of feet under the ground like a mole where
there are no phones?” Reginald’s voice was warm and the chuckle that followed
after his little poke at Azel’s habits made his shoulders relax and he released
his grip on the chair.
“It’s nice to talk to you too Reggie, but I do rather prefer walls and floors
of dirt. I’m thinking about redecorating my room actually.”
Reggie laughed at that.
“You’re a bit late with your call though, my uncle just delivered the message
about how the slave was doing. I’m glad he’s working out for you.” Azel was
surprised that his last sentence didn’t come out as a croak. His throat seem to
close a bit with emotion he didn’t know he still had in him.
Reggie must have heard his tone waver as his next words were soft, “He’s doing
amazingly well for what he’s been through, Azel. And, I feel like a school
teacher when I say this, but he’s making friends. He’s still very shy and
quiet, that might be his personality, but he’s charismatic and the other studs
enjoy his company. And you should see the way the broods have started swooning
over him now that he’s put a little more weight on. I had one of my younger
ones request him as a teaser stud. Sadly, I don’t think he’s quite there yet. I
won’t be breeding him for a while, not until he’s healthy enough to get on the
full breeding schedule.”
“That’s great, Reggie.” Azel winced at how pained his voice sounded. Thinking
about Theorin again brought all of his wounds to the surface. His hand holding
the receiver shook a bit.
“You know,” Reginald’s gentle tone came through the line, “you can come visit
the farm any time you want. I’m sure Theorin would be happy to see you again.”
“Thanks for the offer Reggie but I’ll be pretty busy at the mine for a bit, and
I’ve got some stuff I need to get to.”
“Alright, I’ll let you go then. Have a good one, Azel.”
“Bye Reggie.”
**************
Theorin was surprised that it was Goshar that he felt most comfortable around
during his couple days of rehabilitation back into the barns. The big slave,
who had intimidated him to begin with, was fast becoming his new best friend.
The others knew to be calm and gentle around Theorin and Goshar somehow managed
to do that and still keep his hailstorm of a personality.
Theorin found himself fitting in well with the group and his appetite had
improved. He had yet to finish one of his meals without forcing himself but
he’d been putting on enough weight that Reginald had him introduced to some
strength training.
It was Narik, the eldest in what Reginald fondly refereed to as “the gang” that
showed Theorin how to work out and what exercises were best. He told Theorin
that when he had gotten used to light exercise and more calories were
introduced to his diet he would be given a personally tailored workout schedule
that would be goal oriented to what worked best with his body type.
His panic attacks became fewer and farther in between and when they did happen,
everyone had learned not to touch him. It was usually Reginald or Goshar that
brought him back to the present. They would bring him to the house, get him
settled and relaxed. He often found himself on Reggie’s couch, his head on his
master’s lap with those artisan fingers brushing gently through his hair.
It was during one of these quiet moments, where Reggie held a book in one hand
and stroked Theorin with the other when Theorin had the unexpected need to talk
to somebody. He fidgeted a bit, not liking the feeling.
“Master?” he said, but it was quiet, not more than a whisper.
Reggie put his book down and had both of his hands in Theorin’s hair now,
giving the slave his full attention. “What is it Theorin?”
“Do you believe in love?”
Reggie gave him almost a scolding look. “Has someone been reading to you those
ancient Harlequin romances that are in the barn library?”
“No, master. I- I was only curious,” He lifted his head out of Reggie’s lap to
sit up a bit on his elbow.
His relationship with his knew master felt odd to Theorin. He didn’t quite
understand where he fit into Reginald’s plan, as he was given so much attention
and care, yet he wasn’t even participating in any form of breeding. It was
nothing like what he had with Azel, which was an abnormal flame of passion that
still licked in his lower belly, but more of a subtle comfort of routine that
he had found to enjoy. Reggie had gentle hands and a purring sultry voice. It
sent shivers up Theorin’s spine and released all the tension in his shoulders.
Reginald gave him some kind of social interaction that the other slaves could
not and this comforted him. Perhaps it was that he knew he liked his new master
who was gentle and kind and non abusive. Besides when he was with Azel, Theorin
had never experienced a life without constant punishment, but the thoughts that
had filled his head about his last moments with the slate eyed blonde man had
troubled him. He’d lost himself and it scared him.
Reggie’s hands found the nape of his neck and gently pushed, rubbing his
shoulder muscles and neck. “You’ve been thinking about Azel, haven’t you.”
Theorin knew it wasn’t really a question and withdrew out of his thoughts with
an answer before he had thought about his words. “I just don’t understand-” He
managed to cut himself off before he finished that sentence. Any master with
any sense of discipline for slave control would have him whipped for saying
what he was about to say.
Reggie cocked his head to the side. “Go on, you can say whatever you need to. I
want you to feel comfortable enough to tell me anything. I won’t punish you for
much if you haven’t figured that out by now. I have always found violence the
less affective mode of training, so you don’t have to tailor what you say all
the time. Obviously, you’ll have to remain within reason but,” he brushed the
hair off of Theorin’s forehead while he paused to take a breath and study the
slave’s face intently. “I intend for you to have a very long, fruitful career
here, and I need you to understand that you are safe here. No one is allowed to
touch you without my say, and I’ll have the hide of anyone responsible for any
abuse whether it be verbal or physical. Say what’s on your mind, Theorin.”
Theorin pulled a way from Reginald’s hands and sat up on the couch, a little
overwhelmed by his master’s proclamations. He knew this farm was very good and
treated its slaves well or else Azel would have never picked it, but Theorin
had secrets. Deep and dark ones that lurked in his past like shadows across
memories. He couldn’t tell Reginald the whole truth, but perhaps the truth of
the recent past would appease him and maybe he could shed some insight to the
turmoil that surrounded Azel’s goodbye.
He dared a glance at Reggie, the man’s warm hazel eyes sincere and gentle.
Despite that Theorin’s gaze returned to his hands in his lap when he began to
speak, “Being a slave is all I really know. Be submissive, keep your head low,
don’t talk unless spoken to, kneel, try not to scream...”
His last few words were said with a choke and fresh tears spilt down his face.
This would be harder than he thought.
Reginald’s interest was peaked and he scooted closer but not touching, his
silence encouraging Theorin to go on.
“But with Azel...” Theorin had to clench his fists to keep from bursting into
incoherent sobs. “I felt like a person,” The taboo sent shivers up his already
tense spine. “He was so hurt by what had been done to me, so distressed. His
empathy was like this catalyst in my chest and since the day that I saw his
face it felt like he needed someone and I knew that I’m the only one that can
fit that spot.”
His sobbing had now surfaced full force and he was gasping between his words.
Reggie didn’t move, just watched him and listened intently.
“When he came to say good bye... I... He...” Theorin could barely get out
anything, his breathing had become so erratic. A hand began rubbing his back,
giving him something else to concentrate on and calm down his emotions. He
hadn’t cried like this since he was a kid and he felt he didn’t quite know how
to handle himself at this level of hysteria. He took a few breaths.
“He gave himself to me, told me that he was mine. I was elated, but also
consumed by grief- I wasn’t in my right mind and I... I took advantage of him.
I took not just what he gave me, but what I wanted. I did to him what so many
others have done to me...”
Theorin couldn’t say anymore. He wanted to curl into a ball and float forever
in his guilt.
But Reggie was not about to let him.
The man gathered Theorin into his arms, holding him tight. He murmured
comforting noises, trying to lessen the sobs that shook the slave’s entire
body.
Reginald wasn’t stupid. He had smelled the sex on Azel when he had exited the
prep room, but he had assumed that Azel and Theorin had been in a conventional
master slave relationship. What Theorin had just described to him made his
blood boil. What a stupid boy.
Assuming Theorin had never been forced to dominate other slaves regularly, he
most likely had been conditioned to submit, over and over. Judging from his
scars he was most likely tortured into that submission, and past it, from who
knows how many Masters. What Azel did submitting to Theorin had turned the
tables completely, letting something out of the poor slave that he didn’t know
how to handle, nor control.
And now Reggie had a sobbing mess of a beautiful slave that he would have to
put back together again. Not that he wouldn’t enjoy it but he liked his
pleasure slaves to be a bit more willing and absolutely detested violence, but
he hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
Reginald rubbed Theorin’s shoulder before he slid his hand under the slave’s
chin to tilt his head towards his own. Through the hiccups and tear tracks,
Theorin’s lips still looked as inviting as they did the first time Reginald had
laid eyes on him, coming out of the back of that dusty mining truck. He kissed
those lips, soft and pliant under his own, taking note to control the kiss when
they responded. He knew Theorin would feel much better once he knew Reggie was
in control.
***** X *****
Theorin didn’t quite register what was happening until Reginald’s hand was
under his shirt against his flat stomach. He thought about pulling away,
knowing that Reginald probably wouldn’t do anything to him from the rejection,
but he couldn’t bring himself to. Reggie’s lips were warm and his roaming hands
set a flicker of heat across Theorin’s flesh that went straight to his groin.
He needed this; needed someone to lick the wounds that he couldn’t clean by
himself.
Reginald lifted Theorin’s cotton shirt over is head, throwing it on the floor,
going for the button of his pants as his lips trailed down the slave’s neck.
Reginald was barely an inch taller than Theorin himself, but his arms were
forceful as they pushed Theorin into the couch so he lay on his back, a gasping
mess with a straining bulge in his thin pants.
Reggie made quick work of those pants, then took Theorin by the bare hips and
drug him closer, so the straining fabric of his dress slacks met with the
swollen flesh of Theorin’s cock. Theorin writhed and gasped at the feel of the
rough fabric and Reginald was quick about grabbing his flailing arms and
holding them secure above his head while he dragged their crotches together
with a languid motion of his hips.
As quick as the attention had started, it stopped. Reginald pulled completely
away from Theorin, walking away and leaving the slave to panting on the couch.
Theorin quickly got up and retrieved his clothes and followed Reggie. They
walked down the hallway, but met no staff or domestics, and then into a
bedroom.
The room was huge, with a four poster bed with huge bay windows that led out to
the balcony. Book shelves lined one wall, stuffed with old fashioned bound
books and chotkies that lined the exposed wood in front of the spines. Across
from them was a huge dresser, drawers open with a melange of clothing both
folded, crumpled and drooping over the dark polished wood as if it was some
creature that regurgitated t-shirts and underpants. As Theorin took more stock
of the room he realized that it was quite chaotic; not whole heartedly messy,
but the farthest thing from tidy Theorin had seen since coming to live at the
farm where the grass, that was only green for two months out of the year, was
manicured to perfection.
Reginald undressed in front of him, depositing his clothes on the floor without
a care. Leaving his grey boxers he turned to face Theorin.
Reginald really was an attractive man. He had high cheekbones and a sharp jaw
giving him a very hard chiseled look, but his hazel eyes were always soft. At
that moment those eyes traveled up and down Theorin appreciatively.
“You can just drop your clothes on the floor, I’ll get them later.”
Theorin obediently dropped them, though he was surprised to find his psych
itched a bit at not putting them in the half-utilized laundry basket sitting
beside the dresser.
Reggie moved to his unmade bed and sat at its edge, waving Theorin over, “Come.
Kneel at my feet.”
Theorin did as he was told, starting to get curious. Reggie looked like a
little kid in the candy shop, and was failing spectacularly to suppress a shit
eating grin that went from ear to ear.
As Theorin settled in front of him, Reggie took the slaves face in both his
hands and stared straight into his eyes, moving slowly over them and studying
Theorin’s features. Then he went over them with his fingers, as if blind.
Theorin watched his face, curious through the entirety of the exploration and
saw look of complete awe slowly dissipate whatever excitement Reginald had
spewed before.
“You’re absolutely gorgeous, you know that?” he half breathed.
“Yes, master.”
Reginald bent to kiss Theorin’s mouth. His breath was hot and heavy, slivering
town Theorin’s throat as his tongue opened the slave’s lips.
“You’re eyes,” Reggie gasped as he filled his lungs with air. “And you’re
starting to fill out just the way I want,” He removed his lips from Theorin’s
skin just long enough to spew those words before his mouth was on the slave’s
neck and he drug his nails over the lithe muscles of Theorin’s torso.
 Theorin clenched his belly at the stinging touch and tipped his head back
exposing his throat to Reginald. His hands were fluttery and light in their
strokes as he felt Reggie’s muscular thighs. He found he was a bit nervous. He
didn’t know where to put his hands, didn’t know if he should kiss the chest
that he was eye level with or if he should stay still. He tried to remember
back to a time when had had clients, when he’d had to entertain, but he’d had
to do next to nothing, just figure out if they liked to hear him scream.
Reggie’s lips were now to the top of his shoulder, digging his blunt white
teeth gently into the muscle. It was only a little painful but enough to pull
him away from his thoughts and back to the present.
At this point Reggie pulled back and quickly divested himself of his underwear,
his cock springing free of the elastic waistband. It bounced up and hit his
stomach, red and covered in veins with pre-cum dripping from the tip.
Theorin licked his lips.
“This dick isn’t going to suck itself Theorin.”
At the jab, Theorin started and panicked. Its not that he didn’t want to give
Reginald a blow job, he was aroused at this point, but this was all suddenly
moving very fast for him. Reginald had been attentive and affectionate at
times, but never this sexually involved. The change in his entire demeanor was
quite unsettling. He’d been loving the affections of the Reggie that had
soothing words and gentle touches, a friendly face that he could trust. That
was his first mistake.
A hand twisted in his hair, burning his scalp, and caused tears to fall
guiltily down his cheeks as his face was lifted to Reginald’s gaze. Those hazel
eye stared back. They were a mix of sadness, resignation and determination, but
they had also darkened and that sent a sliver of fear into Theorin.
Holding his head still by his hair, Reginald moved the tip of his cock to
Theorin’s lips.
“That means open your mouth, slut,” commanded Reggie, the slur coming from his
soft lips in disgust.
Theorin didn’t know where his streak of stupidity arose from, or if he was just
simply stunned into an idiotic stupor, but he kept his lips sealed.
The back of Reggie’s hand hit him so fast and hard in the face that he ended up
spun around and landed in a heap on the carpeted floor, the wind knocked out of
him and the right side of his face numb.
Reggie was on him before he could catch his breath, fingers wrapped viciously
in his hair that turned his head to the side so his mouth aligned with the cock
and sprung from between Reggie’s thighs. His other hand wrapped around his
throat and squeezed, slowly putting more and more pressure on the delicate
functions of his neck.
Theorin’s lungs burned and his mouth that gaped open in an attempt for oxygen
was quickly stuffed with the hot flesh of Reggie’s cock. The hand on his throat
released, but was replaced by the pressure from the inside as Reggie thrust
deep, the ridges of his turgid flesh cutting off Theorin’s attempt at a gulp of
air. Instead he tried to breath roughly through his nose, his jaw now stretched
to it’s maximum, his lips touching Reginald’s pubic hair, and his throat
feeling like he was swallowing glass.
Reggie’s head tipped back and he he shuddered. “Holy shit,” His hips jerked,
moving his cock in and out making Theorin swallow to keep from choking in his
own saliva, pressing his head in between the floor and his pelvis. Reggie
tugged on Theorin’s hair to shove himself deeper in to his hot slick throat.
The pain made Theorin groan. Those vibrations had Reggie’s eyes squeezing tight
and his hips snapped in an involuntary thrust, jarring Theorin’s head in the
already painfully twisted position. Reggie’s penis was not short nor thin by
any means and with every inch of him down Theorin’s throat, every thrust,
Reggie watched Theorin’s throat swell abnormally, his engorged cock stretching
the tender flesh of his esophagus.
Theorin’s hands went from resting on the ground to pushing against Reginald’s
hips when he could no longer breath. Tears from lack of oxygen streamed down
his face and he started to loose it. Reginald’s hands cinched Theorin’s face
flush with his pelvis, holding his cock in the deepest part of Theorin’s
throat.
Theorin grabbed at his master’s wrists trying desperately for him to let go of
his hair, so he could pull himself off of Reggie’s cock, but those fingers just
wrapped in his auburn strands gripped that much tighter. Theorin knew he
shouldn’t but he tried to fight back, planting his hands again and trying to
pull away with everything he had. However, Reginald was that much stronger, and
the pressure from his cock was relentless. Theorin started to see stars.
Reginald didn’t pull away until Theorin’s arms went slack, his cock coming out
of the slave’s mouth covered in stringy saliva as the slave gagged and gasped
for air, his ribcage heaving. Theorin hadn’t lost consciousness but his eyes
were half lidded and his body felt heavy, pressed into the carpet as the world
spun around him, gulping the air like it was water and he had just spent a
decade in a desert.
“Get up,” the commanding voice boomed breaking through the sound of Theorin’s
gasps.
He could do little but shiver and pant.
“I said get up, Theorin.”
And Theorin tried. He got to his hands and knees, his muscles feeling like they
were made of jelly and his joints rattling like dried leaves across the
pavement. He tried to get his feet under him but then his world spun as if on
an axis and he collapsed back to the floor with a gasp. He couldn’t remember
the last time he felt this weak and absolutely exhausted, and if he was honest
with himself he was embarrassed. He’d been through a lot worse and somehow had
managed to get to his feet. Shame washed through him and fresh tears fell as he
hauled himself back up, this time gripping onto the foot board of the bed to
pull himself to his feet. He went to swallow back some of his tears but the
pain in his throat sent him into a coughing fit with his eyes still streaming.
Theorin hadn’t realized Reggie had approached until a hand gripped the back of
his neck, ripping him away from the support of the bed and nearly dragging him
towards the bathroom. It took everything he hand to keep his legs moving, to
not fall on his face again.
The en suite bathroom had a floor tiled with marble that felt cool under
Theorin’s bare souls of his feet. Reggie steered him towards the sink, getting
him to brace his hands on the counter so he would stay balanced while Reggie
left him.
He came back and dropped something onto the solid floor that clattered, then
his hands were on Theorin, one stroking his hip and the other rubbing lube
between his ass cheeks. The lube and his fingers were cold, but gentle. Theorin
risked a glance at the mirror in front of him. Swollen lips, wild hair and red
lined violet eyes stared back, until he caught Reginald’s eye contact from
behind him wearing an expression he couldn’t read.
“Spread your legs,”
Theorin obeyed, expecting, but not ready for Reggie to slip his whole index
finger past his tight ring of muscle. There wasn’t enough lube yet and it
burned as he moved it in, not waiting for Theorin to adjust. Theorin braced his
hands and tried to lift himself up, away from the probing digit, but only
succeeded in pressing his dick between himself and the ledge of the counter. He
shuddered. More lube was added and a second finger slipped in, stretching his
twitching inner walls.
Reginald began twisting his fingers, ghosting over Theorin’s prostate.
Theorin’s grip on the edge of the counter was white, and his cock was stiff and
dug uncomfortably into the counter’s edge, leaking pre-cum onto the front of
the sink.
With every thrust of Reginald’s fingers, as he began to scissor and stretch,
Theorin shook and mewled. His gasping breath fogged up the mirror and Reginald
didn’t stop until he was a wriggling, dripping mess.
“You will listen to me, Theorin.” His hands stroking his buttocks, hips and
lower back. Theorin could feel his hot breath on the back of his neck, “Won’t
you?”
Theorin didn’t know if he should answer or not, instead he swallowed trying
catch his breath. He lost it in a yelp when Reginald’s hand came down and
slapped him hard on the ass.
“Yes, Master.” He bit out hoarsely as the sting on his skin flushed, the heat
traveling from his skin and into his cock with a throb.
Reginald stroked the red welt that his hand left on Theorin’s skin. “Yes what?”
Another slap.
Theorin’s voice was like gravel, “I’ll listen to you, master. I will always be
obedient--” The force of Reggie’s next blow cut him off, his lungs seizing as
the pain crawled across his skin and pleasure pulsed through his veins.
“But you weren’t.” The blunt accusation cut fear into Theorin, right through
his fog of pleasure like a glinting blade. He looked up to read Reggie’s face
in the mirror. The man he saw behind him was tall, threatening, with a
domineering posture and had determination written on his face, but his hand
wasn’t raised.
Swifter than Theorin could register with what he could see in the mirror,
Reginald had grabbed both his hips and slid his cock fully and deeply into his
opening, balls deep. Theorin cried out from the pain of being thrusted into all
at once and the smack that Reggie’s skin made against the raw flesh of his
buttock. A voice in his head wanted to reprimand Reggie for only using two
fingers to stretch him when his cock was easily the thickness of three, if not
bigger, but he knew better, and let himself be bent over the counter so his
head just about hit the mirror with every forceful buck of Reginald’s hips.
 Theorin hadn’t been penetrated in a long time and Reginald hadn’t added
anymore lube. It felt like his rectum was on fire from the friction, but he
still moaned and squirmed in rapture beneath his master’s chest. The pain was
getting to him, his breath coming in small hot pants, and his hips rolled back
against his master’s. His insides felt raw. His lungs and throat burned from
the earlier abuse and the side of his face was starting to swell. Pleasure
balled in his lower abdomen, but he could feel every ridge of Reggie’s cock
causing the torturous sensation of the stretching, filling, pulling.
A glance in the mirror showed Reggie coming undone already. His eyes were
closed and his bottom jaw hung open as his hips snapped in an unrelenting
rhythm. His grunt was the only warning before Theorin felt the molten spurt of
his semen release deep in his gut and his cock’s reflexive unrhythmic thrusts
as it lost it’s stiffness.
Reggie pulled out without warning, the flared head of his half flaccid cock
causing a “pop” as it pulled out of Theorin, who was left with an empty, and
aching feeling, which he was accustomed to after being so roughly fucked,
though it had been awhile.
Reginald spread Theorin’s cheeks watching his gapping anus blink open and
closed, glistening with his cum and the slightest pink tint of blood. He
brought his fingers to the quivering muscle and Theorin’s back arched at the
touch.
“Shit, Theorin. I made you bleed.”
Theorin’s only response was a grunt as Reggie slipped his one index finger back
into his overstimulated hole, followed by the scream he muffled by biting his
lower lip as Reggie prodded his prostate gland. Reggie’s other hand shifted
Theorin’s hips away from the counter to grab his cock, stroking and rubbing his
thumb over the head. It took only a few moments for Reggie’s attention to
result in a rope of cum, shot from Theorin’s red cock hitting the mirror and
anything in between it and the edge of the counter.
His lower abdomen licked with waves of pleasure, his hips canting to Reggie’s
phantom thrusts. Something that had been unaligned righted itself inside
Theorin, so much so, that it startled him. He hadn’t known anything had been
broken. All the anxiety, the paranoia, the guilt, it all melted away until
there was nothing left but slave and master and he basked in that subspace. He
finally felt comfortable in his own skin again.That’s what he was good at, what
he had been raised to be, what he was. This dissection of his role was a
comfort, soothing his thoughts about Azel. It all of a sudden seemed so far in
the past, like a strange dream. Something that could never, and had never, been
real.
Legs collapsing beneath him, Theorin thought he would crash to the floor when
Reginald wrapped his arms around his waist.
“Easy Tiger,” breathed Reginald as he steadied Theorin’s balance by pulling his
back flush with his chest.
Theorin let himself feel him, the warmth of his naked skin, the strength of his
arms. They moved together towards the bathtub, an odd beast of eight limbs.
Reggie set him down on the edge of the tub, the cool white porcelain soothing
on the skin of his rosy ass cheeks. Reginald turned on the water, testing it,
then left it to fill as he helped Theorin lift his legs over the edge and
steadied him as he slowly lowered into the pooling water.
The water was warm and began to emanate the smell of lavender as Reggie poured
a couple drops of oil into the swirling vortex just underneath the tap before
climbing into the water himself so he faced Theorin in the tub.
Gentle fingers lifted Theorin’s chin so he looked into Reginald’s eyes.
“Better now? You seem so much more relaxed.”
“Yes, master.”
Reggie hummed his pleasure at Theorin’s agreement as he grabbed a cloth and a
bar of soap, dipping both in the clean fragrant water, then lathering up his
hands. Those hands were on Theorin’s chest next, spreading the white suds,
fingers gently massaging into scarred skin.
Theorin couldn’t help himself but watch Reginald’s face every time his fingers
caught on a white protrusion of scar tissue. A frown grew until it seemed to
pull on each of his features like it didn’t belong there and those hazel eyes,
which had been darkened with lust just minutes before, were narrowed.
“Nobody should have been allowed to do this,” he said quietly as he finished
washing the rest of Theorin.
The vehemence in Reggie’s words sent an odd emotion rolling down Theorin’s
spine, one he’d never felt before, and it flared as Reggie leaned forward and
kissed one of the larger scars on his clavicle. Theorin wanted him to continue,
to kiss all of his scars away, but Reggie had pulled himself back into his own
personal space and was scrubbing his own skin with the bar of soap.
He rinsed himself off, and then did the same to Theorin before shutting off the
tap. The water had filled to their belly buttons, the steam rising up and
surrounding them in a cloud of humid lavender. Reggie leaned back against the
tubs edge, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. He took a deep breath
before he spoke. “Tell me your story.”
It wasn’t a question, but it had Theorin tongue tied regardless, and he just
stared at Reggie like some kind of imbecile as all the blood drained from his
face.
Reginald cocked his head to the side and gave him a small smile, “I’m not
asking for the horrific details, Theorin. I’m just curious if you know where
you’ve been, where you were bred if you can remember. I’m planning on putting
you up for stud soon, now that you’re getting healthier, and I need you to let
me know if there will be any triggers for you or if there is anything that will
frighten you.”
Theorin gave a small nod and tried to swallow but it hurt and his mouth was too
dry. His voice came out raspy, “I don’t remember anything before I was ten, I
think. I was kept in a box with only two air holes and fed once a day. When
they took me out,” his hand found Reggie’s forearm resting on the edge of the
tub and he gripped it like an anchor, Reggie let him. “When they took me out I
wish they had just beat me, but they were creative. They tied me up, drugged
me, conditioned me to respond to the pain. And I never saw the sun until a year
after that, until they were satisfied with my training.”
Reggie was as still as stone. “Do you remember their names?”
“No, master, not their names. I remember silently calling one of them Cyclops
because he only had one eye. He stood out to me the most--”
Reggie stood up abruptly, nearly slipping on the wet floor of the tub as he
scrambled out and fled to the toilet, lifting up the lid when he got there and
heaved.
“Master?”
“I’m all right Theorin.” After wiping his mouth he flushed the toilet then made
his way around the puddle of water he put on the floor in his scrambling and
back to the tub. “Do you need help getting out?”
“No, master.” Theorin stood and stepped out towards Reggie who was waiting for
him with a towel.
They dried off in silence, then Reggie guided Theorin back into the bedroom
with a hand at the small of his back.
“Lie down on the bed, face down.”
Theorin obeyed and watched as Reggie picked a pair of flannel pans off the
floor and put them on, then grab a couple glass bottles from the top of his
dresser and bring them to sit on the night stand, pushing papers out of the way
so that there was room. He took one of them and poured the oil into his hand,
rubbed them together then started with Theorin’s shoulders.
Theorin had never been given a massage before and his toes curled as his
muscles became pliable under Reginald’s pressured strokes.
“That one eyed man’s name is Praxus and I know exactly what he did to you and I
wish that I didn’t,” Reginald’s words were soft as he continued to work down
Theorin’s back. “He’s a chair of the Earthen Galaxy Slave Federation, and a
person that I have to bare to be in the same room with bi-annually. He’s a sick
man, and unfortunately the president of the torture slave division. He always
has a child slave with him and I’ve seen him, and the others, do things to them
that I wouldn’t wish on anyone. He’s known as the best slave trainer but I’m
convinced that his casualty numbers rival those that survive.”
He’d reached Theorin’s round, raw ass and he poured a different oil in his
hands and began to rub the globes gently. “I’ve known you were strong since the
moment I saw you but to survive something like that... a lot of his own torture
slaves go to the laboratories when he’s done with them but you have had a few
masters before then haven’t you.”
“Yes, master.” Theorin hissed the word master as Reginald tucked a finger in
between his cheeks to apply some sort of jelly to his raw hole before
continuing the massage down the backs of his thighs. “He wasn’t the worst
though.”
Reggie sighed, “I’m not surprised.”
***** XI *****
Azel would have preferred the fake wood floor of his Uncle’s office compared to
the hard rock that was connecting with his skull at that moment. The slave boy
that was sobbing in the background, and the handler’s labored breaths, cut in
and out of hearing after his head bounced. He was pretty sure he was bleeding.
He rolled onto his back and the blood from his bleeding nose rushed to the back
of his throat and he coughed up a tide of crimson into his breathing filter.
Running footsteps echoed through the mining chamber from the hollow vein in the
rock, then his uncle’s voice rumbled, threatening.
“Markson, explain yourself.”
“ Mr. Vaunderock - sir - I-”
“My nephew is bleeding on the ground and there’s a slave with a broken leg.
You’re the only one unscathed so I expect answers.”
“I was -umm.”
“Quickly.”
“ The slave has been below his set quota for the last two quarters. I was
helping him understand that he needed to pick it up, when Mr. Cantash
intervened and was determined to fight me on how to handle the slave.”
Flashes of the story rang true in Azel’s spinning brain. The slave boy had been
very low on the quota and Azel had come to investigate as was his job as
overseer. The boy was emaciated, with willow branches for legs and twigs for
arms and Azel had turned the corner to see him underneath the harsh clawing
grip of Markson, while his spindly body jolted at each blunt strike of the
handler’s baton.
Azel had shouted, then tried to intervene and stop the abuse. The slave boy was
unwell, that much was clear. His weight had decreased by 35% since he had been
first entered into the system at the mine. Whether it was due to illness or
perhaps bullying by some of the other slaves, Azel would never know.
Not intimidated by Azel in the slightest, Markson had shoved the slave onto the
track of the hovercarts as one glided down, heavy with discarded rubble. The
boy had managed to almost completely dodge it except for the leg that he had
left behind. It now rested across the track, a nasty compound fracture that
nearly separated his shin in half.
Azel had leapt at Markson, in a fury, but the man was much taller than him and
with Azel’s recent non existent eating and sleeping habits he had no strength
to do much. When the boy started screaming Azel succumbed to the beating. To
feel anything besides the guilt and emptiness.
Strong hands grabbed Azel from underneath his biceps and lifted him to his
feet, then pulled off his ineffective blood soaked mask and replaced it with a
clean one, still warm from the slave that now writhed on the dusty ground, a
catch pole tight around his neck.
His uncle motioned toward Markson, “You, in my office.” The handler didn’t
hesitate and fled the scene to do as he was told. Uncle Vaun’s eyes then met
Azel’s, first filled with worry and then disappointment. “Take him back to the
house and get Bruce to patch him up, I’ll deal with him later.”
The handler holding Azel up got him moving on his own, shuffling unsteadily
down the stone alley.
Vaun finally looked to the slave and sighed. “Put him down,” he told the
handler, then waved at the slave’s and nephew’s blood that stained and soaked
into the packed earth. “And clean this fucking mess up.”
**************
Reggie lay awake while Theorin slept, studying the way the slave’s brow
furrowed in his dreams. It was cute and endearing and Reggie couldn’t help but
drag a hand gently through the thick auburn hair. Theorin had fallen asleep
during his massage and Reggie was woeful to disturb him. They lay side by side
on the mattress, Theorin still on his stomach and Reggie reclined black on the
pillows.
How rough Reggie had been with Theorin had left a bed taste in his mouth, but
he was comforted by how easily Theorin slept now. He’d had to deal with this in
slaves before. Slave training of sexual nature was usually based on power and
often when one came here they got lost in it’s absence. The irony that they
were treated with respect and dignity here but became so mentally uncomfortable
with it was never lost on Reggie. It made him sigh.
Reggie would generally hand the slave over for a night with one of the
handlers, someone he knew was trained in that certain field and understood the
dynamic of what needed to be done. But he had taken liberties with Theorin as,
and he hated to admit it, he had grown attached. Theorin was quiet, which
wasn’t unusual for a newer slave, but Reggie found he enjoyed his wistful
presence. The soft spoken thank you’s and the barely there touches. And that
resilience; a body covered in scars, but his mind was still together. Broken
more in some parts then in others, but he wasn’t a zombie, and that was
something in that pulled Reginald in, more than those violet eyes ever could.
Theorin shifted in his sleep, pulling Reginald’s attention from his silent
musings.
“Azel.”
The name came from Theorin’s lips, breathy, and struck a cord in Reginald. One
that reverberated with a jealousy so green he could have gasped.
“Azel, please.” Theorin’s back arched and his hips lifted off the bed in
discomfort. His eyes were closed, but Reggie could see the rapid shifting of
his eyes, a sign he was in some lucid dream sequence.
Reggie sat up in the bed and shifted closer to Theorin, rubbing his hands
through his hair and the muscles on his shoulders trying to calm him without
waking him. “Theorin, you’re just dreaming. You’re just dreaming,” he repeated
over and over, hoping to calm him down.
Theorin just got worse.
His face twisted in a painful grimace and the muscle’s in his arms and
shoulders tightened and released erratically. His body twisted in the sheets as
he struggled blindly.
“Theorin, it’s okay.” The spasms turned into thrashing and Reginald tried to
catch his flying limbs to mostly avoid being hit.
In retrospect, Reginald should have just let him be, but he felt like he needed
to fix Theorin, to give him the nurturing that he never had, or maybe he had a
subconscious responsibility to remove Theorin’s fixation off of Azel. Either
way, when the slave was suddenly on top of him, pinning him by the shoulders to
the mattress, he didn’t struggle.
Those arms, that had seemed so thin, weakened by starvation, were twined with
rip cord muscles and held unbelievable strength. Reginald's breath rattled from
his lungs as he looked up at Theorin. The slave’s breathing was erratic, and
his eyes were open, but hooded. What was behind those auburn eyelashes was
vacant, flat.Theorin was somewhere else and that knowledge, gathered in his
split second glance, sent fear erupting through Reggie’s body in the goosebumps
that rippled across his skin.
Their lips crashed like waves on a rocky cliff, wet and violent. Reginald tried
to move with Theorin; to lessen the probable damage of teeth against the soft
flesh of his lips. Theorin’s hands had moved from his shoulders to his
forearms, pinning Reginald’s arms against his side, so his hands clawed
uselessly against the sheets as he panicked.
The heavy, hot flesh of Theorin’s arousal didn’t go unnoticed. Theorin’s hips
pressed down and rutted against Reginald’s, his stiff member thrusted against
limp tissue. Reginald would have laughed at how ridiculous this sex dream was,
if he wasn’t so afraid of it turning ugly.
Post trauma stress disorder was something he didn’t often deal with in slaves,
but given the circumstances he should have expected it. The real terror of the
situation he was in did not fully register, however, until Theorin had a hand
on his neck. It was rare, but sometimes slaves killed their masters. At this
point, Reggie struggled to be free, gyrating his body in an attempt to wriggle
out of the slave’s grasp. Theorin’s hand just tightened at his throat, his
thrusts more violent and his teeth latching onto Reginald’s bottom lip until
his skin burst and he tasted his own blood.
Then, it was all over. Theorin came with a grunt then his eyes drooped fully
closed as his arms relaxed and he collapsed onto Reggie’s chest. Reginald lay
there, stunned, still pinned beneath Theorin’s weight, a wave of intense relief
replacing his fear as he caught his breath. He gently rolled Theorin off and
onto his back, surprised the slave was such a heavy sleeper as he flopped
gently onto the mattress.
Reggie sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. It was all he could
do not to put his head in his shaking hands as he thoughts ran amuck. He was
dumbstruck with the realization that Theorin was possibly to be too much slave
for him to handle, but his heart pined at the thought. He wanted Theorin to be
his own, something he could look after and someone he could trust.
Reginald’s family had left Earth, seeking their own livelihoods. He hadn’t seen
his mother and father in five years and his siblings in ten. The crushing
weight of their absence had carved a longing in him that he didn’t know how to
fill. Theorin soothed its edges, something he hadn’t realized until that
moment, nor thought possible.
Right then and there, blood running down his chin and hands barely able to
grasp each other, Reginald swore to himself that he would fix what was broken
in Theorin, because perhaps it would fix what was broken in himself.
********
Azel’s hands were sweating; his fingers clammy against his palms as he clenched
and unclenched his fists. He was nervous. He had expected another beating from
his uncle or a cut in his spending wages or something of that severity, but not
this. His boots thudded heavily against the dirt floor of the man made tunnel,
minimally lit by the ancient glass light bulbs that they’d never bothered to
update. Azel knew where it lead, just not what waited for him once he got
there, and that unknown was like a sack of rocks in his chest.
The tunnel ended in a small room with a deep naturally occurring pit. This
section was part of the old mine that ran dry and was rarely used... except to
throw the bodies of slaves down into the darkness where they didn’t have to
watch them rot.
There were voices emanating through the dim light, hitting Azel’s ears like a
confirmation of the coming doom, and he had to force his legs forward. Four
naked slaves, his uncle, and a handler he barely knew, stood waiting for him in
the cavern, only a couple meters from the gaping mouth of the endless darkness.
His uncle noticed him first, and the handler fell silent as Azel approached.
“I’m assuming you know why you’re here.” His uncle’s voice was stiff, but it
was the look of disappointment that he didn’t bother to hide from his face that
left Azel cold.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Alright,” he motioned to the handler. “Monty, if you would.”
The handler held a hand gun by the barrel, holding it out for Azel to take.
It felt heavy in his hands, the dark grey metal lifeless and cold. It struck a
quick wave of nausea through his stomach. He hated guns.
 The slaves hadn’t stirred since his arrival, but now turned at his uncle’s
command. Azel felt like he could puke. There were two children, no older than
thirteen; a young healthy man, around the same age as him; and an older slave,
a man with thin limbs and arthritis swollen joints.
“Put them down, Azel.”
The panic rose in him like a feral animal, cornered and desperate. “I can’t.”
The hand he was holding the gun with shook at his side.
“You can,” his uncle moved closer to him, grabbing his shaking arm and raising
it so the opening of the barrel was aimed at the slaves. “And you will.”
The tears and the bile came at the same time. Azel nearly choked, but he
managed to swallow what rose up his throat. However, he couldn’t stop the water
that leaked into his cheeks. Azel wanted to get on his knees and cry. He was
just so tired. So done with obeying. For the first time in five years he wanted
to go home. To that empty house on Mars; to his hateful mother who had verbally
and physically abused him since his father’s death.
His uncle still held his arm up. “Shoot them.”
Azel dropped the gun and his legs buckled beneath him as it clattered to the
hard dirt floor.
His uncle didn’t bother holding him up, and left him kneeling on the ground
while he went and grabbed his bull hook. “You have left me with very little
choices, Azel.” He walked to one of the younger slaves. “I thought you
understood what a slave was after we had our fun with that purple eyed one.” He
swung the bull hook threateningly in front of the small slave, testing it’s
balance. “Unfortunately, you have decided to learn the hard way,” his bull hook
glinted in the dim lamplight as he raised it, and before a sobbing “no” could
rip from Azel’s lips, the hook came down with a gut twisting woosh. It made a
sickening squelch as the metal disappeared into the child’s stomach.
Azel swore he blacked out. He found himself on his hands and knees dry heaving,
not remembering how he got there. The child’s cries of anguish echoed through
the cavern. A boot connected with his stomach, sending him sprawling onto the
dirt floor.
“I never thought anyone related to me would be this pathetic.” Uncle Vaun’s
voice was hard, and he nearly spit the last half of his sentence. “Get up,
Azel.”
He didn’t want to get up, but something in him ignited. It was an odd feeling.
It wasn’t the start of a ragging defiance or grit to hold on to his morals, nor
was it complete defeat. It was more of an epiphany. One day the mines would be
his. He would be the boss, not his Uncle, and then he could treat the slaves
however he wished. Heal them, liberate them, save them. The four standing
before him were suffering. He could end it. He had that power at least.
Regaining his upright position on shaking limbs Azel bent and picked up the
gun. He saw the skeptical look on his Uncle’s face, but moved towards the
bawling child that writhed on the ground holding his bloodied abdomen. The
other young slave was a girl and although she stared straight ahead she broke
training at the sobs that wracked her small body.
Azel was surprised to find his hand steadying, despite the fresh shudder of
devastation that ran through him. His tears flowed as freely as the little
girl’s. He aimed the handgun, clicking the safety off, then placing his finger
on the trigger. The kickback from the shot hit his arms and shoulders, then the
screaming stopped. The boy was still as stone, dead, with a bullet hole between
his eyes. Monty grabbed the body by the hair and made quick work of sending it
toppling over the edge and into the abyss.
After the eldest slave’s body was rolled into the crevasse, Azel felt
everything leave him. Fear, anger, anguish; even the smell and taste of blood
was gone from his senses. He clipped the safety back onto the gun and let it
fall out of his hands. His uncle picked it up, gave him a rough pat on the
shoulder and left with Monty.
Azel stared at the blood soaked floor and blinked through the itchiness of the
splatters that dried on his face. He was covered in their blood, almost as much
as the stained floor. He wanted to fall to his knees, but they were locked. He
wanted to scream, but he had no voice. He wanted to cry but he knew he had
nothing left. It felt like he stood their for hours, staring at the old
stalagmites and stalactites that littered the edge of cavern making it look
like the maw of some prehistoric megafauna of legend. He wished it would
swallow him whole.
He hadn’t heard anybody come in, but he wasn’t startled when a hand brushed his
arm to get his attention. It wasn’t Bruce, who he would have expected, but a
slave girl. He couldn’t tell if she was a domestic or a miner, but sometimes
women slaves were both.
“Mr. Vaunderock sent me to fetch you and clean you up,” her voice was gentle
and Azel followed her without resistance when she gentle guided him through the
cavern to the hall.
They walked in silence until the elevator, where she told him his Uncle had
given him the rest of the day off after he had showered.
It was between shifts, so the showers were deserted, of both handler and slave.
The girl undressed him, dealt with his clothes and guided him to the shower.
Azel didn’t realize he was on complete autopilot until the slave started
soaping and scrubbing him after he’d spent most of his time under the hot spray
staring at the tiled wall. He didn’t stop her as she bathed him and had her
lead him out and dry him off. She helped him dress too, before she looked him
right in the eye. Azel was stunned.
“We all know who you really are. Don’t let Master Vaunderock change that. We’re
waiting.” And then she quickly fled, leaving Azel in the dressing room.
Her words haunted him for the rest of the week. He tried to think about them
but found his mind wasn’t able to do more that paperwork. He had stopped eating
completely, and didn’t even bother to show up for meals. Sometimes a plate
would appear in his room after he got back from his Uncle’s office, but the
smell almost made him gag, and he would place it, often still steaming, outside
of is door.
He was aware that his weight was dropping dangerously low. His skin felt clammy
to him like he no longer belonged in it, and his hair was noticeably dull. He
tried to avoid most people and could go a whole day without talking to anyone.
He hadn’t gone back to the mines. His Uncle made no comment about it, nor did
he seek Azel out. Azel figured he was fine with getting all of the paper work
done while he locked himself in the house. His Uncle didn’t exactly enjoy doing
any paper work and was probably enjoying the break.
His weight didn’t become an issue until Azel found his clothes stopped fitting.
He ran out of holes on his belt to keep his pants up and the collars of his
shirts hung limp on his boney shoulders. He looked like he was swimming in his
button ups and he had to forget about wearing a watch, the cold metal could
almost slide a third of the way up his forearm. Azel wasn’t stupid. He knew he
was starving himself, but he just didn’t care. He felt cold, on the inside and
out, and he was done. Done with slaves, done with people, don with living. He
buried himself in the paperwork and abhorred any type of contact.
He had been in his Uncle’s office when he had heard the voices. He prepared to
flee when he recognized one as his uncle’s but paused hearing that he was in a
heated conversation. The other sounded like Bruce. He put his ear to the door.
“--looked at him! He’s a walking skeleton.” That was definitely Bruce.
“He’s handling himself just fine, he’s a tough kid, he just needs some time.”
“What he needs is a doctor, Vaun. He’s barely eaten in god knows how long and I
wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t sleep either.”
There was a frustrated sigh. “He’ll come around. He always does if you leave
him alone.”
“That’s just it. This has been going on for almost two months. He’s getting
worse and you know it.”
“Well, then,” Uncle Vaun’s words were starting to get more strained. “What do
you want me to do about it? Send him back to his mother who hasn’t talked to
him in six years and could give a rats ass how he is? I love him, Bruce. I know
you don’t think that but I do and he needs to learn or he has no future.”
Bruce’s tone was more gentle this time “ Azel is more sensitive than you know.
I think what he needs is some help, and a good long vacation from work--”
“But he can’t leave--”
“Vaun, there’s already snow on the ground. Earth has slowed down and so has
business. You can handle giving him some time off.”
“I suppose,” Uncle Vaun paused. “But where would he go? He knows next to no one
here.”
“I have some friends who own a beet farm who would be happy to share their
home.”
***** XII *****
“This isn’t the beet farm.”
“I’m well aware of that, Azel.” Bruce said gently in response to the young
man’s quiet voice as they pulled up the drive way of Mulsberry farms.
“My uncle will fire you if he knows this is where you took me.”
Bruce snorted. “He won’t fire me. Plus he wouldn’t be able to find anyone else,
not in this season.”
Bruce was right. There was about four feet of snow covering the habitable part
of the planet in a pallet of whites and blue hues and a temperature of well
below freezing. Shipping slaves was out of the question unless you just wanted
to kill them, so the trade was nearly at a stand still for another four months
until the weather cleared up.
Azel shifted uncomfortably in the truck seat as they parked in front of
Reggie’s house.
“Did you ask him to take me?”
Bruce knew a threat to pride when he saw one but he didn’t lie. “Actually, he’s
been calling regularly for a while now. Giving updates on Theorin, asking about
your health, since you haven’t bothered to pick up a ringing phone in months. I
told him you needed a vacation away from what was going on in the mines and he
offered. He also says that it will do Theorin good to get a chance to--”
“I don’t want to see Theorin.” His words were a hiss but they still managed to
cut Bruce off.
“You can discuss that with Reggie. Ah, there’s Acket now. You should get inside
quick, I’ll grab your bags.”
Having no choice but to obey, Azel gingerly slipped out of the truck. The air
hit him like a wall of ice, immediately chilling him to the bone and sent his
teeth and knees rattling despite his thick sweater and winter coat. He shoved
the lower half of his face into his collar so his breath could warm his nose
and walked as quick as he could to the huge open door of the house where Acket
waited. Bruce bounded up the concrete stairs two at a time behind him with his
suitcase so they entered into the warm inviting house at the same time,
stomping the snow off of their boots onto the welcome mat.
Unexpectedly, it was Malise who greeted them inside, her short stature dwarfed
by the copper horse statue behind her.
“Come in, come in. There’s tea in the sitting room. Just leave the bag by the
door, we’ll have somebody pick them up and drop them into Azel’s room later
on.”
Azel and Bruce followed her into the sitting room that was complete with a
matching set of couches and a roaring old fashioned fire place. Despite the
heat from the fire, Azel was still freezing and was reluctant to take his
jacket off, but did so for propriety’s sake when he sat down on the couch.
Malise studied Azel closely but discreetly and if she noticed his obvious
weight change she didn’t say anything. “Reggie is just finishing up in the
barns and will be here shortly. Do you need anything else?”
“No, I’m fine, thank you.”
“I’ll have to leave you for now,” she motioned toward the door, “but we have a
domestic just in the hall if you need anything.”
This time is was Bruce who thanked her as she left them, then he turned to
Azel.
“I’m going to have to leave now so I’m back in time for my rounds.” His voice
was careful again as he looked down at Azel shivering on the couch. “I’ve
talked with your uncle and he’s agreed with me that you can stay as long as you
wish. Reginald has assured me it is no trouble, so please, take the time that
you need.”
Azel couldn’t help but notice the worry in the handler’s eyes and managed a
weak smile.
“Goodbye, Bruce”
“Bye, Azel”
****************
Reggie let his voice travel through the house, greeting his domestics and
Malise. She told him Azel was waiting for him and he got a zing of excitement.
He had been nearly dying to, for better less of a word, brag to him about
Theorin’s progress. So Reggie walked into the sitting room his usual self:
standing tall and proud with a wide grin.
His grin faltered when he saw Azel, curled in on himself on the couch and
practically shivering in front of the fire. He clenched his hands together to
compose his reaction to seeing the boy again, as the only thing recognizable
about him were his jet black eyes and blonde hair. However, even those seemed
dull and washed out by his pale skin. His face no longer held the attractive
feature of newly blooming manhood of round cheeks and growing jawline. It was
now all sharp angles, high cheekbones and sunken eye sockets. From what Reggie
could see of his hands, they were bony and gaunt, the skin drawn tight across
the bone.
Bruce had mentioned Azel had been going through a tough time and was in need of
a break from the mines, but he hadn’t said anything about this. Thinking back
on their phone conversation now though, Reginald had been given hints, his mind
just hadn’t gone to worst case scenario. It had been a mistake not to do so and
it didn’t prepare him for what he was seeing.
He didn’t know Azel very well, only that he was young and belonged to one of
the richest families that still inhabited earth, but he understood why Bruce
brought him here. Theorin would be able to fix him.
Reginald approached his guest gently and plastered a fake grin back onto his
face but he wasn’t convinced that it wasn’t a grimace.
“Hello, Azel.”
Those haunted eyes flickered in his direction. “Hello.”
Gods, even his voice was half of what it once had once been. Reginald sat down
on the couch beside Azel, noticing the untouched tea on the table in front of
him. He was in the middle of pouring them both a cup to distract himself for a
moment when the silence was interrupted.
“Thank you, for letting me stay here.”
Reginald waved it away. “Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” he offered the full cup
of tea to Azel and was satisfied when Azel took it, his nearly blue fingers
wrapping around the old porcelain. “I adore guests. This house is rather large
and besides Malise, and a few others, I am the only occupant. It can feel quite
empty at times.”
“I imagine so.”
They sat for a few moments in silence again, Reggie trying to sip his hot tea
and Azel just staring into it.
“Does Theorin know I’m here?”
Reggie had to think about that for a moment, “You know, I rather think I forgot
to mention it to him today. He’s been doing quite well and I’ve been busy
arranging safe travel for some of my other studs that will be back from loan.
I’m sorry Azel, I will call for a domestic to fetch Malise and she will--”
“No!”
The interruption was a bit of a startling one, enough that Reggie’s eyes
widened in response.
“Sorry, it’s just...” Azel put his untouched teacup back on the table and wrung
his hands together. “I-I don’t want to see him.”
Confused, Reginald pressed for an answer. “Why? He is the reason you’re here,
is it not. Surely you didn’t plan to spend your vacation solely looking at my
ugly mug?”
Azel ignored Reggie’s weak attempt at a joke. “I’m here because Bruce knew it
was a place where slaves were treated with some ounce of respect and were not
abused.”
Reggie’s eyes narrowed, studying Azel more closely. “What happened? You don’t
have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I know this isn’t just about abusing
slaves.”
The young man shifted uncomfortably then took a deep breath and stared into the
floor as he spoke. “He- my uncle- he made me shoot four of them.”
Reggie tried not to start and stayed silent.
“One was old, but the others were healthy and young. I’ve never killed anything
before in my life,” Azel said the last words with a breathy laugh, as if he
couldn’t quite believe what had occurred. He rubbed his hands over his face,
smothering his misplaced mirth and tilting his head up to stare at the ceiling,
tears sliding out of the corners of his eyes. “Food has no taste, not that I
feel hungry at all. I feel like I’m stuck, like I can’t move foreword. I just
want to go to sleep and... not wake up.”
“Don’t say that.” Reggie’s voice came out strained.
Azel’s eyes turned to him, so dull and lifeless in his hollow face. “The first
two were children.” His hands had started shaking.
Reggie put a hand on top of Azel’s to stop the movement and was pleased when
Azel didn’t pull away. “I think you could use a good nights rest, and we can
continue to talk about this in the morning if you wish. I’ll show you to your
room.”
When Reginald stood and began to walk to the guest rooms, Azel followed
silently behind him.
********
Ever since his first night with Reggie, Theorin felt so much lighter. He found
himself connecting more with Gosar and the rest of the group, much to their
delight. They included him in almost everything they did and during meals they
made sure to help him understand the regulations of the farm and how all the
breedings worked. Happiness, something he had not felt in a very long time,
welled up in him every time he finished all of the food on his plate, or
managed to do an extra set in the exercise room. His body changed like his
mood: his shoulders filled in with muscle and his concave stomach was replaced
with ripples of what Goshar liked to call “hard work”. He began to look like
any other stud that was housed on the farm and began to feel like this was
home. This wonderful place where his body balanced with his mind.
Reginald still took him to bed sometimes, but nothing close to how rough he had
been the first time. Theorin let him know he still enjoyed the occasional taps
on the ass, but Reggie’s style of fucking was the closest to love making that
Theorin had ever experienced. He would nibble and nip and only use his fingers
until Theorin was a wiggling and whimpering mess, crying for release. And when
Reginald did get around to getting off inside of Theorin, his words were sweet
and his touches were gentle. He always used lot of lube, so all Theorin felt
was some mild stretching and pleasure.
At first, all of the attention made Theorin nervous and Reginald could tell.
“Just let it out, Theorin.” he said, his voice smokey like a glass of whiskey,
his breaths jarring every time his hips snapped, puffing onto the bare skin of
Theorin’s neck. “Quit holding back, Tiger.”
Theorin shivered. Reginald had been preaching like this during their fucking
for the past week, never desperately; ever patient. It was probably mostly his
own fault. Reginald’s tenderness left him at a loss of what to do. He knew how
to scream and moan when it hurt, but when it felt good he kept his lips sealed.
His body responded accordingly, but he couldn't bring himself to do anything
other than open his mouth in a silent scream when he came. And that god damn
nick name. Every time he used it, it made Theorin feel something. Special. It
disappointed him to find out he had no idea how to process that.
“Don’t disappear on me.”
They were settled on Reginald’s bed, Theorin on his side with his master flush
behind him, both of their bodies rushed with the heat of mid-coitus, their skin
slick and chests heaving.Theorin, tilted his head up to look at Reggie: his
dark brown eyes smoldered like melted chocolate, hair a scruffy halo sticking
out at every odd angle. Sweat beaded in the hollow of his neck.
“I didn’t go ahh... anywhere,” Theorin whispered, his sentence interrupted by
the brush of Reginald’s flared head over his prostate. He reached his hand back
to find Reggie’s hip, griping and pulling him closer, trying to get him deeper.
Reggie’s thrusts stopped, balls deep. “Don’t lie, Theorin.”
The ache was unbearable. Sweat pricked Theorin’s skin and at the same time
goose bumps rippled across his arms. He tried thrusting himself but Reginald
put a hand on his lower belly to stop him and hold him tight. Theorin could
feel the whole of Reginald’s cock in him and he clenched down on it in his
frustration. He hadn’t gone anywhere, despite how much he wished for the
subspace of their first night together.
Reggie muffled his groan against the skin on the back of Theorin’s neck, “Turn
onto your stomach.”
In the new position, Reginald wasn’t buried as deeply inside, but he could
gather Theorin’s hands behind his back to restrict his movements. The slave
moaned at the burn in his shoulders.
“There we go.” Reginald said breathlessly as he began his thrusting anew.
The restriction in movement and discomfort sent a thrill through Theorin,
letting his mind settle into only responding to the pleasure in his gut. Moans
started coming out of his parted lips as an autonomic response and his body
writhed beneath his Master’s hold.
Reginald came, his body shuddering against Theorin’s while his cum filled the
slave’s insides. He continued to thrust as he used his hold on Theorin’s hands
to push down on his back and his other to lift up Theorin’s hips to be able to
reach his cock. His hand wrapped around the sensitive organ and stroked it
firmly. Theorin gasped as his body released, his rope of cum hitting his chest
and falling onto the sheets below him. His hands were released and Reginald
slowly pulled out, the width of his cock surrendered from Theorin’s ring of
muscle with a pop.
Leaving to go into the bathroom, Reggie left Theorin laying in his own cum on
the bed, his eyes half lidded, body feeling like a giant noodle. The feel of
Reginald’s cum cooling and dribbling out of his anus made him groan. His groan
only intensified when Reggie came back with a warm cloth to clean him up,
rubbing over his sensitive sphincter with a little more pressure than was
needed for cleanliness.
Reginald arranged the blankets so they were only laying on clean ones, then
they settled down; Theorin on his stomach and Reggie on his side, rubbing the
soreness from their sex out of Theorin’s lower back.
“I have you scheduled for your first breeding tomorrow.”
Although Theorin’s eyes were droopy, his lifted his head in interest but “Oh,”
was all he could think to say.
“You’ll be guided by Exca through the entire appointment, and the brood I have
selected is very... how do I put this, inclined towards the idea of two men
being together? If you have any trouble Exca will be able to help.”
Theorin’s violet eyes studied Reginald’s muscled chest for a moment as he
drifted through his thoughts, only closing them and moaning a bit when Reggie’s
skilled hand found a tender spot on his back. “Why Exca?”
“You are friends with Exca, are you not? You eat your meals with him and
Goshar’s little group. He’s generally with you guys when you exercise.”
“He’s barely talked to me at all. I would rather have Goshar there.” Theorin’s
request came out quiet and hesitant. It’s not that he didn’t like Exca, but the
other slave had barely diverged from his usual polite greetings when
interacting with Theorin and he felt like he barely knew him at all.
Reggie just laughed. “Goshar has the patience of a puppy. Plus, he’s straight
as they come and would be very uncomfortable touching you in anyway if you have
trouble performing tomorrow. Exca is quiet but he’s patient, gentle and will be
able to read your body language well enough to know if or when you need help.
He probably hasn’t told you but I often get him to sire some domestics for
nanny work, although he always throws them with blonde hair and blue eyes so
it’s hard to keep them from becoming pleasure slaves. He also helps train young
studs. You have a job to do. It’s not a hard one but I expect it done right and
Exca is that right one to help you do that. Alright?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Get some sleep, Theorin”
Reginald had almost told him about Azel, but he needed a clear headed stud for
tomorrow and he knew that was not going to happen if he told Theorin that Azel
was here because his health had taken a downslide. He hoped that decision
wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass.
***** XIII *****
The breeding barn was smaller than the others and only contained a few rooms
that had solid walls and normal doors. The one Theorin stood in now was roughly
three times the size of the one he shared with Goshar. The floor was concrete
with a glossy finish, which was surprisingly not cold on Theorin’s bare feet,
and it contained a low king sized mattress and a conspicuous chest that neatly
stood on the opposite wall from the bed. No chains, no medical equipment.
Theorin let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.
They had bathed Theorin before they put him in the room, even brushed and blow
dried his hair which had grown to be just past his jaw. The pampering was a new
experience for him but he found he enjoyed it. Standing in the middle of the
empty room by himself reversed all of the calmness he had felt while having
someone else brush his hair, so when the door opened he jumped a bit at the
sound.
Exca entered, closing the door quietly behind him. He was dressed the same as
Theorin; barefoot with soft drawstring pants, no shirt. He smiled genuinely at
Theorin.
“Don’t be nervous, Theorin.” He said, his voice like butter.
Theorin had barely ever heard him say more than two words, so he was a bit
shocked to find he liked the timbre of the other slave’s voice. Theorin
swallowed before he spoke, “I’ll try my best.”
Another warm smile spread across Exca’s face as he walked calmly over to the
bed and sat down, patting the space beside him. “Come here and relax with me
until Lina gets here.”
Theorin obeyed, but was hesitant as he lowered himself to the bed, his eyes
never leaving Exca.
The other slave tilted his head, “I won’t make any of the first moves if just
sitting with me makes you this nervous.”
“I- I’m sorry.”
“Reginald told me this will be your first breeding. It’s okay to feel this
nervous. If it helps, you can focus on me the entire time, Lina is very good
about this sort of thing.”
Theorin just swallowed and nodded, not trusting his voice not to shake.
“You’re very beautiful, you know. Lina will be happy.”
The blush crept from Theorin’s hairline and turned his face and ears red. Exca
tilted his head back slightly and laughed, the sound like the trickle of water
in the desert. Theorin couldn’t help but smile in response.
“No need to feel embarrassed, Theorin. If compliments bother you that much
though, I’ll tell Lina to keep it quiet. She’s a flatterer that one.”
“No, it’s quite alright.”
Theorin hadn’t even realized, but while they’d been talking Exca had shifted so
his one knee was up on the bed, almost touching Theorin’s thigh, and had leaned
close enough to Theorin that all he had to do was lean forward a few inches and
their lips would brush.
Theorin couldn’t help but swallow again. His eyes must have widened too because
Exca’s eyes softened and his voice lowered.
“I’ll always make sure you’re okay with Lina and I. The only thing that you
have to do is cum inside of her. You don’t have to do anymore than that. I’m
just here to help you along so both of you feel safe and comfortable. The
broods can be a little pent up sometimes but Lina is a saint with what she can
put up with. If you need us to slow down just say so, will you be able to do
that?”
“Yes, I think so,” Theorin replied, surprised that his voice had gotten a
little stronger.
Exca gave him a warm smile, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “Good. Are
you ready for her or would you like to get started with me first?”
The confusion must had been plastered on his face because Exca chuckled a bit
then clarified. “I’m not aware of your sexual preferences so you can choose.”
Theorin’s cheeks flushed and his eyes shot to the ground. “I’ll start with
you.”
Exca’s grin grew wide, almost goofy and he flopped backwards onto the bed and
opened his arms up so they rested perpendicular to his torso, “You’re move
then.”
Theorin was slow and his movements unsure as he crawled farther onto the bed.
Exca was taller than him, but they had about the same muscle mass despite their
differences in physical condition, so Exca was much less intimidating when he
was laying on his back. In a streak of boldness, Theorin straddled Exca at the
hips. Exca smiled up at him, placing his hands on top of Theorin’s thighs.
Theorin leaned foreword, then placed his hands on Exca’s shoulders. His skin
was warm and Theorin felt the heat build in his palms, half from nervousness.
“Trying to hold me down?”
Exca’s comment made Theorin frown, “No”
“Just checking.”
What the hell was that supposed to mean? Irritation burned Theorin’s bravery
and he leaned all the way down and kissed Exca, even using his tongue to open
the other slave’s mouth. Exca’s arms wrapped around Theorin’s back and his
hands grazed their way down until they were squeezing his ass. Theorin moaned
at the touch, moving his hips in response which just ended in their cocks
rubbing together through the thin linen of their pants.
Exca’s groan was guttural as he breathed into Theorin’s mouth, “I think we can
bring Lina in now,” he kissed Theorin’s jugular, “What do you think?”
Theorin nodded, his eyes closed from the feeling of his skin under Exca’s lips.
Exca rolled him off by depositing him gently onto the mattress beside him. Then
he stood, his half hard cock tenting his loose pants so he looked ridiculous,
then walked over to the door and knocked. It opened and he exchanged a few
words with a handler before he was opening it wider and letting a woman slave
walk into the room.
Theorin had sat up in the bed as she came further in, her eyes on him,
studying, just as his eyes were on her. She had brown eyes and long silky
looking black hair that tumbled past her breasts. He guessed her age to be
around thirty or maybe older, judging by the crows feet and laugh lines that
cast the faintest of shadows onto her pale skin.
“Hello, I’m Lina.” She said as she neared the bed. Theorin expected her voice
to be husky to go with her sultry hair but it was quite normal. Pleasant and
friendly even.
“I’m Theorin.”
Lina sat down on the edge of the bed her eyes hovering purposefully over his
bulge. “Do you mind if I look?”
Theorin’s skin heated, but he shook his head politely and started to undo his
pants. It was only fair. She had walked into the room already naked.
Theorin’s cocked bobbed as the waist band of the pants was pulled down to his
thighs. Once he got them completely off, Exca was there with a waiting hand to
take them from him.
Lina took his size in appreciatively but he saw her expression change when she
noticed his scars. It was only for a millisecond that her eyes darkened and her
lips pinched in a frown.
“You can touch me if you like,” Theorin said, hoping she wouldn’t ask about his
scars and half trying to hurry up and get this over with.
“Be nice Lina, he’s green, remember,” Exca said from across the room where he
was digging through the now opened chest, looking for something.
Lina just rolled her eyes in his direction before biting her lip and looking
back to Theorin. Before she could say anything Exca was crawling onto the bed,
a condom distorting Theorin’s glimpse of his half hard cock and a bottle of
lube in his hand.
“Could I get you to lay down on your back Theorin?”
Theorin obeyed and tried to relax.
“Were you ever used in a threesome before?”
“Never with a women,” He responded automatically as Exca squeezed a dollop of
lubricant into his palm.
“Have you ever been with a women before?” Lina piped up from the back.
“No... not when I wasn’t- Ah! That’s cold.”
Exca’s hand was wrapped around Theorin’s cock, the offending lube, though cold,
providing a delicious, frictionless motion for Exca’s attention. “Shit, I’m
sorry. Usually it’s warmer in here.”
“It’s okay, it just surprised me.” Theorin said, followed by a moan. Exca’s
large hand was practiced, squeezing him at the base and palming the head with
his thumb. Theorin felt his cock fill and swell, heat pooling in his groin. He
rested his head back against the mattress as Exca’s fingers explored lower.
They cupped his balls, pulling them gently, then crept into the crevice of his
ass. Theorin practically mewled and his back arched as Exca pressed his fingers
against his hole, coating it in lube.
“Wow, he’s hot. Guess that’s why he’s Master Reggie’s favorite.”
Theorin barely registered Lina’s words, but sure as hell felt her soft plump
lips as she kissed him, swallowing his mewls and groans. Exca’s fingers
breached him slowly and gently, carefully stretching and massaging. He gasped
into Lina’s mouth with every stroke, until she finally pulled away to breath.
Exca now had two fingers stretching him, scissoring and ghosting over his
prostate. When he pulled his digits out, Theorin felt boneless and his rectum
ached.
“Ready when you are Lina.” Exca said softly.
Theorin’s cock was incased in Lina’s slick warmth as she straddled him. His
hips twitched with pleasure and he had to turn his head into the mattress to
keep from crying out. His hands grabbed her soft hips so he could find a
rhythm, but then he looked up at her, long hair and plump breasts. He felt the
pleasure fade, his dick soften, and his face heat.
“Exca?” Lina said as Theorin’s hips stilled.
“I know, I know. I’m coming.”
Fingers, dipped in warmed lube, breached Theorin’s opening, rubbing his insides
before he felt the smooth tip of a dildo enter his hole. He gasped at how far
it slid in, then bit the blanket to keep from screaming as it started vibrating
in a throbbing rhythm.
“Theorin, look at me,”
Theorin turned his head to the voice, not even realizing that Exca was back at
his head. His vision was a little blurry, and his lungs fluttered. Exca pressed
him into a sweet kiss, fingers stroking down his throat, to his chest, and
rubbing firmly over his nipples. Theorin arched into the touch, his hips
snapping up into Lina as his cock started hardening again.
“You’ve got it bad, “ Exca chuckled against his lips. “You aren’t even a little
straight.”
Theorin’s only response was to groan as Lina’s heat clenched down on him and
the dildo pulsed.
Exca’s hands were everywhere; teasing the dildo, stroking and massaging every
inch of Theorin’s skin. Lina’s gasps became shorter and louder until they
turned to whimpers and she was practically ramming herself down on him.
However, Theorin found the pleasure flagging again. It wasn’t that he was that
turned off by Lina, its just that he needed something more, something to focus
on other than her.
“Exca?” Theorin’s voice was a low moan but Exca heard him.
The stud kissed his way up to Theorin’s neck before making his way to the other
slave’s ear. “What do you need?”
“Hit me.”
“What?” Exca reeled back, shock contorting his features.
“Hit. Me.”
“Theorin...”
Frustration was a colluding knot in Theorin’s gut. With his mind fogged with
sexual desire all he knew was that he needed it, and he needed it now. “HIT
ME!”
The backhand was hard, but not the hardest Theorin had ever received. It
snapped his head to the side and the sting made his balls draw up tight. He
came as he breath caught on the pain, and he barely noticed how Lina writhed
and whimpered above him, climaxing as his sperm spilled into her.
They laid there, Theorin on his back and Lina collapsed onto his chest, his
softening cock still tucked into her wet folds.
Theorin’s mind remained in a fog as she slowly got up off of him and left the
room without a word. He remained on the bed, staring at the ceiling, his head
slowly clearing.
It wasn’t until a handler came him in and lifted him to his feet to go wash up
that he realized that Exca had left, and he had been laying in an empty room.
 
*************************
 
“I feel like this is all my fault, I should have expected this. I was a bit
delusional on the subject, unfortunately,” Reginald said with an exasperated
sigh, his hand covering his eyes with his thumb and forefinger pressed into his
temples. He sat in the leather office chair behind his desk at a slight
recline, while Theorin was curled up in a blanket on the leather reading chair
in the corner of the office.
“I-I-I’m sorry--”
“There’s no need to apologize, Theorin. I pushed you too fast, too soon, and
it’s just karma getting back at me for that mistake. I do have some good news
though.Lina has been confirmed as pregnant, so at least we managed that part.”
“That’s good to hear, Master.” Theorin said, yet his voice was as neutral as he
could muster. It had been two weeks since his first breeding, and Exca hadn’t
even so much as looked at him. Not only that, but he defied Reginald when asked
to participate in another breeding with Theorin.
Theorin’s mind had felt frozen. His thoughts like cramped cotton. He couldn’t
focus, couldn’t sleep, and he was driving Goshar nuts with his fidgeting. Which
was probably the reason why he’d been summoned to Reginald’s office.
“Look Theorin,” Reginald stood, moving a couple stacks of papers and folders
into different piles on his desk. “I need to start making my money back on you
and to do that you need to breed. We can wait for a little longer before we try
a live cover again but I’ve got twelve females that are ovulating and can be
artificially inseminated. You would prefer a male handler, yes?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Good. I’ll send the handler for you tonight and we’ll pull some straws from
you after dinner.”
Theorin’s ears reddened and his face heated in shame. They were going to milk
him. Milk him like a cow for his sperm. He’d been degraded , tortured,
humiliated, literally shit on, but nothing like that raked itself under his
skin quite like this did. He felt so used, which was wrong. He was a slave, he
was meant to be used. He shoved his feelings down, trying to ignore them.
“You’re dismissed, Theorin.”
Theorin didn’t waste any time standing from the chair, folding the blanket
neatly where it had been on the arm and exited the office. The energy inside
that office had grown stifling as he had listened to Reggie and now he just
needed to get outside and put some fresh air in his lungs.
He high tailed it down the stairs and took a blind corner sharply, making his
way to the back door to put on boots and a jacket so he could go back to the
barns. Theorin didn’t get to finish that turn. A body slammed into his,
although his was much larger and he would have sent the other person flying if
he had not grabbed onto its arms. They were frail and small in his hands and
the figure was so light he just about lifted him off the ground to place him
back on his feet.
“I am very sorry, I didn’t see--” Theorin choked on his own words. The figure
he had ran into stared back up at him with big obsidian eyes peaking from
behind dull straw coloured hair. Familiarity rushed through him in a zapping
flutter, like multiple static charges in his gut. He searched the face for its
recognizable features, only to find papery thin skin, stressed over sharp bone.
“Azel?”
***** XIV *****
Mulsberry farms had served Azel as a nice, quiet place to draw into himself.
Reginald was constantly busy, either in his office or the barns, but did try to
converse with Azel during meals though conversations were one sided and
awkward. Azel found he still barely ate and only spoke when he needed to. He
spent most of every day wandering the huge house, pacing from hallway to
hallway. Sometimes his memories caught up with him and he had to go sit down,
but most of the time he just felt numb. So, when he crashed into Theorin’s
broad chest, not even recognizing him covered in a layer of healthy muscle and
his hair in a tiny, messy auburn bun on top of his head, the emotion that
ripped through his chest made him start.
“Azel?”
That voice, though filled with confusion, was deep and rich. Azel wanted to
close his eyes and melt into the floor, or into Theorin’s arms, it really
didn’t matter, but his inhibitions wouldn’t let him. Theorin wasn’t his to melt
into, and he would never be.The futility of that fact let the anger simmer; it
was painful, an ache that thrummed with his frustration. His eyes burned as he
ripped himself from Theorin’s grip and turned his back to him.
“Leave me alone.” His voice was weak and he wasn’t even sure if Theorin heard.
Not until the slave’s breath hitched.
“A-Azel.”
Azel wrapped his arms around himself, his fingers digging into his sides
through his sweater as if he could hold his chest together. “Leave me,
Theorin.”
There was silence behind him, but he could still hear Theorin’s breathing. He
felt the very tips of Theorin’s fingers graze the side of his neck, and he held
himself together that much tighter. Theorin’s gentle fingers stroked, massaging
the nape and gliding up his spine to his hairline, a thumb bobbing on each
protruding vertebrae.
“I can’t,” Theorin whispered.
Azel didn’t know if it was the words, or if it was from not eating a single
bite of food in the past three days, that made his head feel light and the
ground tip beneath him. His knees buckled, and eyes rolled back in his head.
Theorin’s voice, screaming his name, seemed to come from so far away and the
arms that came around him felt like a distant memory.
Theorin had managed to grab Azel as he fell, half holding him in his arms as he
set him gently on the ground. “Azel?! Azel, can you hear me?” He was answer
with Azel’s face contorting and twitching, only the whites of his eyes showing
through the slit in his lids, moving rapidly back and forth.
“Azel! Help! Someone, I need help!” Theorin’s voice rang through the house in
panic as the convulsions started. They racked Azel’s frail body, his spindly
arms and legs slamming against the hardwood floor, his spine arching and
bucking enough that Theorin had a hard time holding on.
A handler and Reginald came pounding down the hallway from opposite sides just
as white froth started coming from between Azel’s blue lips. The handler helped
hold Azel down as Reggie ran to the nearest phone. Theorin was too shocked to
listen, his eyes locked on Azel’s straining throat as the young man grunted,
his chest refusing to open and take in any air.
“... emergency... underwei-- ...seizure...” were the only snippets that Theorin
heard when Azel’s body finally relaxed. The boy’s frail ribcage opened and body
hungrily gulped in oxygen as his arms and legs went through a few more
twitches.
Almost as soon as it had happened it was over. Azel lay, barely conscious in
Theorin’s arms, his breathing fast, but relatively normal. Theorin was wiping
the froth and drool off his face, and noticed Azel had wet himself when
Reginald came back out into the hallway.
“The doctor should be here in five minutes,” Reggie said, his face pale. “ Lets
get him to his bed.”
The handler bent down to take Azel from Theorin’s arms but panic surged through
the slave and he shifted Azel to hold him closer, “I’ll carry him.”
Neither the handler nor Reginald argued, so Theorin stood, his one arm wrapped
around Azel’s slight shoulders and the other under his legs. He was so light
and limp, Theorin’s throat caught. When he got him set down in the bed, Azel’s
eyes focused a bit.
“What happened?” Azel’s voice was slurred and groggy.
“You had a seizure.” Theorin told him calmly.
“Oh,” was his only reply.
Azel repeated the question a couple more times, each repetition swelling
Theorin’s worry.
A domestic had lead the doctor to the room. He was a sever looking man, with a
large nose and squinty grey eyes, but his touch was very gentle as he took
Azel’s vitals, and helped Theorin take Azel’s clothes off to be washed.
 Seeing Azel’s body, so malnourished from when Theorin had last placed his lips
on that skin, released something in him. Like a puzzle piece that had been in a
sort of purgatory finally finding its place. The jutting ribs and sharp hip
bones, knobby knees and sunken stomach, sent a feeling of intense possession
through Theorin. It was enough that he stood by the bedside through the entire
examination, his hand on Azel’s arm, never letting go.
The doctor finished by taking a sample of blood, then hooking Azel up to an IV
drip. Theorin hadn’t even noticed Reginald was still in the room, until the
doctor turned to the slave master and spoke in a hushed voice, though it was
hardly needed judging by the spaced out look still on Azel’s face.
“He definitely has an eating disorder of some kind, but I will run the blood
test to make sure to rule out anything else. His seizure appears to be cause by
low glucose levels or an electrolyte imbalance from his refusal to eat, but
once I get his blood to the lab I’ll have more answers for you.”
“Will he have another one?” Reginald asked.
“If you can get him eating and sleeping regularly, even if it’s only a little
bit, he shouldn’t have one again.” He handed Reginald a pill bottle and a
business card, “When he does come to, give him three of these with food.
They’ll help with the headache he’s going to have. Start very small with the
food, so he can finish, maybe only a fruit cup or a small cup of soup. And
that’s a number for the psychologist I recommend, she’s very good with handling
cases such as this and is probably the best you’ll find on Earth.”
“Thank you, Marlow.”
“Oh, anytime Reginald. Would you like me to check up on some of your broods
while I’m here?”
“That would be wonderful.”
The doctor left the room and Reggie followed, turning around right before he
closed the door to face Theorin, “You can stay with him as long as you want
Theorin, just remember to come down to the barns for dinner.”
“Thank you, Master.”
The door closed with a click and Theorin turned his eyes to Azel. The boy was
looking less stunned and more drained, his body naked save the sheet that they
had drawn up to his hips for modesty. His thin limbs sunk into the white
bedding where he lay; a shrunken form of his former self. Valleys and canyons
were a perverse pattern on his skin from the deep shadows of his bones as the
winter sun beamed gently through the window. Theorin grabbed a thick quilt
folded at the end of the bed and covered Azel up to his chin. His skin was pale
and sickly on his face, but he stirred a little and shifted under the weight of
the thick quilt before managing to lift his eyes to Theorin.
“What happened?” This time his voice was a bit stronger.
Theorin sat down on the edge of the bed, his hand still on Azel’s. “You had a
seizure.”
“Oh,” his voice was barely a whisper as his eyelids drooped and his breathing
evened out until he was fast asleep.
The bed was large, so Theorin settled himself on top of the quilt beside Azel,
brushing his fingers through dull hair, crusty from sweat. It wasn’t until then
that the severity of the situation hit him. His whole body went rigid and he
had to squeeze his eyes tightly shut. Something had happened to Azel to cause
this and it was with great frustration and humility that Theorin understood he
was powerless to protect him from it. He wanted to scream, to rage, but he was
a good slave and knew how to bottle all emotion.
His hand continued to stroke Azel’s hair, keeping it off his face and studying
his features. Azel had large eyes, with caramel eyelashes, and a strong nose.
His face, once charming in it’s youthful roundness, looked so much older now,
haggard even. His skin was purple under his eyes, and his cheeks were hollow.
Theorin leant down slowly and placed a gentle kiss on Azel’s cheek. Azel
stirred under the touch but did not wake. He shifted closer until his body was
flush with Theorin’s from under the covers, then buried his face in the thin
linen shirt that covered Theorin’s chest before settling back into a steady
sleep.
They laid there for what felt like hours. Theorin had continued to brush his
fingers through Azel’s unkept hair, unable to look away. He’d known Azel for so
little of a time, but the young man’s imprint had left a much larger mark in
the slave than he had originally thought. Now that Azel was within his sights
again, he didn’t think he could survive if he had to let him go. The boy needed
a protector, someone to defend him. Theorin wrapped his arms around him as best
as he could threw the blanket, the warmth of both their bodies lulling him into
a light sleep.
Theorin awoke to Azel’s weak struggles from under the blanket. His obsidian
eyes were open, but dull with sleep and confusion. Theorin rolled away to give
him more room to move and sit up.
“You’re okay Azel,” Theorin said softly, unsure if the boy even realized he was
there.
Azel stopped struggling and looked around the room lazily before his sight
settles on Theorin. “What happened?” His voice almost a whisper.
“You had a seizure.”
“A seizure?” Azel looked down at his lap, little emotion crossing his face but
for the confused lines on his forehead. “I-1 don’t remember.”
“It’s okay, Azel,” Theorin cooed, shifting closer. “You’re fine now, we had a
doctor come look at you and he said you’d be all right.”
Azel slumped back into the pillow, closing his eyes and bringing his hands up
to his face. “My head is killing me.”
“I’ll get you some water,” Theorin said, rising to slide off the bed when
Azel’s hand grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled him back, surprisingly
strong for his sinewy arms.
“No... Will you please just stay with me?” Azel’s voice sounded raw and
desperate, so Theorin wasn’t surprised when he turned back to him and his eyes
were glassy with tears.
“Of course, Azel.” He said as he crawled back to his original position beside
Azel on the bed.
 It wasn’t until he’d settled and Azel had curled back up in his arms that the
young man’s tears flew freely and developed into heaving sobs. Theorin had no
idea what to do, or what to say, he just held onto the boy tighter and tried to
hold him together. He murmured soft words in his ear and at one point had to
rock him to get him to take a breath through his crying. The devastation Azel
was expressing felt like anguish in Theorin. He had no idea what was the cause,
but a part of him enjoyed the fact that Azel sought comfort in him. Eventually,
Azel managed to cry himself to sleep, and Theorin gently pried himself out of
his grasp and left for the barns.
 
***************
It turned out that Theorin had missed dinner, which was no surprise. However,
he was surprised to find Exca, not Goshar, waiting in his room with a plate of
food. Exca said nothing to Theorin as he closed the door behind him, just stood
from where he had been sitting on Theorin’s bed as Theorin cautiously walked
into the room.
“Exca,” Theorin in said in greeting with the slight lilt of a question.
Exca’s eyes fell to the floor, “I want to apologize--”
“Exca, you don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do Theorin,” He said, his eyes now lifted, jaw set with determination.
“I should not have treated you the way that I did after the breeding. I left
you there, abandoned you after your first time, and then ignored you for weeks.
And I’m sorry for that. Those are not the actions of a good friend. Please,
accept my apology.”
“I accept it, but it should me who is apologizing.” It was Theorin’s turn to
look at the floor. “I should not have put you into that situation since it had
made you so uncomfortable.” Even though to him his actions seemed normal. It
had been Reginald’s disapproval that had stressed him about the whole
situation.
Exca stepped forward, “But that’s not your fault Theorin. Goshar told me where
you came from and I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been through. You
had just come so far, with no more panic attacks and meat finally on your
bones. To hear the need in your voice and see it in your face... for that sort
of violence to make you... to want it...”
Theorin was speechless. Not confused about what Exca was talking about, but by
the raw emotion pouring out of the other slave. He’d seen something similar
from Azel, but Exca’s seemed different and was more perplexing to Theorin,
though he couldn’t put his finger on exactly what. He had never minded Exca’s
company, but he felt no connection to the other slave. Even during the breeding
it had been some of his old training and his appreciation for the male body,
not the fact that it was Exca. Exca’s feelings were not unfounded, but his
vehement expression and worry felt like a betrayal to Theorin. He most
certainly did not return it.
Exca let out an exasperated sigh, “Are you even listening to what I’m saying?
You have something special and you don’t even know it.”
In retrospect, the compliment should have been the thing to take Theorin by
surprise, but it was more Exca’s lips crashing into his that sent him reeling.
The kiss was deep. Passionate. Exca’s hands cupped his head gently, pressing
their chests together. The kiss was so different from what their playing had
been before the breeding, so filled with near desperation, as if Exca was
trying to pour all of his feelings into this one kiss, that Theorin had to pull
away. He just couldn’t take it. Not when Azel lay, skin and bones, in the bed
of the man who owned him; not when that god damn plate of food haunted him from
where it sat on top of the dresser; not when he had to go find Master Reginald,
be scolded for missing dinner and ask to stay by Azel’s side. Theorin planted
both hands on Exca’s thick chest and shoved him back.
The other slave moved gracefully off of him, despite the resistance that was
met. Theorin lifted a hand to his mouth to feel his swollen lips just as
someone opened the door behind him.
“Exca?” Goshar’s voice rumbled from behind Theorin in his usual way, too loud
and boisterous for the occasion. “You’re crowding our tiny room, what the hell
are you doing in here?” Oblivious, as always, to the tension between Theorin
and Exca and his massive frame blocking the only exit.
Exca shot an unreadable look at Theorin, “I was just leaving.”
Goshar got out of his way as he walked out the door, then calmly down the
hallway.
“I thought you two weren’t speaking after what happened at the breeding?”
Goshar was polite enough to soften his tone as he shut the door.
“We weren’t,” Theorin answered slowly.
“Oh!” Goshar smiled warmly at him, like some proud dad. “So, you made up then?”
“To be honest, I have no idea.”
***** XV *****
Only after Reginald had contacted a handler to go and check on Azel, to make
sure he didn’t wake up alone, did Theorin comply with giving his semen. It was
awkward as hell, and eventually the handler gave up and left the room, so
Reggie had to do it. Theorin’s head just refused to retract into subspace in
order to release without some form of pain, which the handler was not willing
to comply with.
Reginald’s fingers were familiar, and he knew all the little nooks that made
Theorin gasp, but the little weird cup thing on the end of his dick kept
drawing him out of any pleasure and threatened to send him into flashbacks. He
fought them, never letting his mind reach that threshold, but the sterile smell
of the small collecting room and the slightly painful stretching of the
vibrating plug up his ass was getting to him; reminding him too much of his
past. After much frustrations, Reginald literally had to spank it out of him.
With his hands on the table for support and his glowing red ass in the air, all
Theorin felt was relief when Reginald took the small cup, finally filled with
his semen, and placed it in the cooling station with the other samples.
Theorin remained where he was, resting his cheek against the cool table. The
plug still thrummed, seemingly burning Theorin’s prostate gland, his cock
twitching as the little dribbles of pre-come splattered the floor.
“I want to ask you some questions Theorin, and you need to answer them
truthfully.”
Theorin’s voice was breathless, “Yes, Master” He wondered how long this would
take. The vibrating was overstimulating and starting to flower painful waves
that throbbed in his rectum. However, he had become accustomed to Reginald’s
guilty form of cruelty, and had suffered through far worse. If Reginald needed
to talk to him while he was like this, so be it.
“How many Masters have ever owned you?”
“Five,”
“Can you tell me their names?”
“Praxis, Toben, Alexander, Fent, and now you Master.”
Reginald said nothing for an extended amount of time and Theorin started
sweating. Where the hell was he going with this?
“Not Azel?”
Theorin felt the blood drain from his face, his body grow cold, and stayed
silent, but a quick smack on his already abused ass engendered a yelp.
“What about Azel?” demanded Reggie.
Theorin’s mind worked in over time. “I was purchased by the mining company, so
Vaun was my Master, but I was there for such a short period of time--”
Reginald’s back hand hit Theorin right in the temple and the soft part of his
eye socket. He crumpled to the hard tile floor after being sent sliding off the
table, the linen pants around his ankles hampering his ability to catch
himself.
“Don’t patronize me Theorin.” Reginald said as he began opening and closing
cupboards looking for something. When he found what he was looking for he drew
out a bottle and began ripping open the sterile packaging of a needle and
syringe.
Theorin lost all reasoning. He scrambled as fast as he could away from
Reginald, which meant farther from the door and under the examining table.
Uncontrollable shaking racked his body as he watched with wide eyes as Reginald
tipped the bottle and filled the syringe with a couple cc’s of clear liquid,
the dark coloured bottle gleaming in the artificial light.
The world around Theorin became murky, and residual memories, that only
uncurled during his most sleepless nights, hit him like a truck. Injection
after injection, the stomach pumps and the feeding tubes, the constant feeling
of being drowned by mere air; the lab came back like a beast rearing it’s
primordial head with gnashing yellow teeth.
Shock and disbelief dropped Theorin’s jaw and snapped him from his flashback as
Reginald rolled up his own sleeve, tied a tourniquet around his own bicep,
slipped the needle into his own vein at the crook of his elbow and pushed down
the plunger of the syringe. The slave master’s head rolled back in pleasure,
eyes closing to slits as the drug was forced into his vein. He pulled the
needle out and released the tourniquet, letting both fall to the floor as he
slumped against the counter and slapped the crook in his elbow and fully closed
his eyes. After a few minutes, but what felt like hours to Theorin, Reginald
opened his eyes; pupils blown and breathing slow.
“You can come out now, Theorin.” Reginald said, and to his credit, he didn’t
slur his words.
Theorin, however, was frozen in both shock and fear. How high was Reginald now?
What the hell did he just inject into his veins? Was he addicted? What the fuck
was it going to do to him? Theorin did not know whether he’d be punished or
rewarded if he approached his master. This new sense of unpredictability had
him terrified. Two scared to stand up, and too scared to disobey, Theorin
crawled on his hands and knees to where Reginald stood. Each four limbed stride
sending a jolt through his groin as the plug shifted. When he reached
Reginald’s toes he stopped.
Reggie reached down and put a finger under Theorin’s chin to lift his eyes,
“Good boy.”
The old familiar presence of reward and punishment relaxed Theorin, Reginald’s
voice rolling off of him like a dark whiskey, but one look at the slave
master’s stoned face had him questioning the integrity of the man’s actions.
Reginald slid ungracefully to the floor, so he sat beside Theorin’s kneeling
form. Reggie’s hand stroked his shoulders and back, before working their way
into the crack of his ass, his finger nails dragging lazily on the edge of
Theorin’s stretched hole. The slave master cocked his head and nearly purred as
Theorin whimpered against the touch.
“I just took a small dose of tranquilizer, Theorin...” He said with a heavy
breath, his eyelids half drooped. “I’ve found it helpful when I’m stressed
out... I haven’t had to use it in a while though...” His last word coming out
as a breathy laugh. “You know... I’m not done my questions yet.”
Theorin made sure to take in all that was happening, but didn’t move in
response to Reginald’s words, just stiffened.
“Who do you feel more comfortable in the presence of: Azel or myself?”
“You, master,” Theorin’s response was immediate and earned him a hard spank on
his flaming red ass cheek. He would have howled, if he hadn’t remembered his
training and bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood.
“I said answer truthfully,”
“Azel...” He gulped for breath through his bloodied mouth, “It’s Azel, Master.”
Theorin was not expecting the devastation to flicker across Reginald's face and
it scared him. He winced as Reginald reached for the butt plug, but it was just
gently pulled out of him with a squelch as his rectum blinked, gaping from the
emptiness.
“Get dressed,” said Reginald somberly before he hauled himself back up onto his
unsteady feet.
*****
Azel woke to an empty room, his eyes crusty and swollen from crying. His head
pounded at his temples and his muscles ached like he’d been lying in bed for a
year. He stretched with a groan, his mind racing to catch up with the days
event’s. Purple eyes swam in his memory and he had to swallow the lump in his
throat.
Theorin had looked amazing. His auburn hair had been thick and glossy, his
weight was perfect, and his eyes were bright. He seemed so happy here,
something that Azel could never provide for him.
The door opened gently and a handler peeked his head through, giving a small
smile when he saw that Azel was awake. “Do you need anything?”
Azel shook his head and huddled back into the quilt and pillows, letting out a
sigh as the handler left. He shut his eyes once more, trying to find the little
piece of oblivion where this endless game of disappointment and heartbreak
would end for him. That’s what he wanted, right?
He dozed for a bit until he had to open his eyes as the door was opened again.
He sat up slowly, watching Reginald, with fruit cup in hand, walk in with
Theorin right behind him.
“I hope we didn’t wake you,” voiced Reginald in concern.
“No,” Azel responded quietly. “I have already been up for a bit.”
Reggie moved to the side of the bed, while Theorin remained by the door, his
eyes on the ground.
“That’s good, how is your head?”
“It’s not the greatest,” said Azel, but his eyes were studying Theorin, trying
to catch the slave’s gaze. Those purple eyes were glued to the ground and his
face was oddly slack. Azel only had time to detect the tension in Theorin’s
shoulders before Reggie started speaking again.
“I brought you some pills the doctor prescribed but you’re only allowed to have
them if you eat this fruit cup.”
Theorin was forgotten for a moment, as rage at Reginald’s ultimatum flared
through Azel. The slave master even had the gall to lift the cup up by his
fingers and give it a little wiggle.
“Just give me the stupid pills.”
Reginald frowned, “ Azel, you came here to get better, and it’s obvious that
it’s not going to happen with the current attitude that you have so it’s going
to have to change. Now eat.” He ripped the seal off of the fruit cup, plopped
the spoon into it and held it out for Azel to take.
Azel wanted to slap it out of Reggie’s hand, but he knew that wouldn’t get him
the pills to relieve the swelling pain in his head. He looked to Theorin to try
to possibly work something off of him but Theorin remained at the door, his
eyes down and unmoving. Not even watching.
“Theorin?” He softly called.
Now Theorin looked up, but his purple eyes were flat, nearly lifeless. A fresh
bruise, bright red against his fair complexion marbled his left temple and eye.
Azel was out of bed before he even realized what he was doing. When he hit
Reginald, his bony fist connecting with the slave master’s nose, the man’s
knees buckled a lot easier than expected. Ignoring his nakedness, Azel leapt on
him until they were tussling. Azel gave everything he had, pouring out his
anger in his weakened hits and lighter weight, while Reginald’s blocks and
throws seemed delayed and only half of what they should be.
“Stop! Azel! Stop!” came Theorin’s voice like it was from somewhere far in the
distance through the roaring in Azel’s ears. He kept hitting Reggie until
strong arms wrapped around his torso and lifted him off of the slave master.
“What did you fucking do to him!” Screamed Azel, still struggling to free
himself so he could pound on Reginald again.
The slave master sat up, his hair wild, nose bleeding and his shirt ripped, but
he laughed. “Do to him? I fed him, gave him an environment that he needed, and
fixed him. He’s like this now because of you.”
“Bullshit.”
“Really? He was fine-- more than fine-- I could fuck him ten times a day, until
his hole was raw and he’d still comply with a simple ‘Yes, Master.’ You get
here, and he’s making demands and refusing to take orders--”
“Oh, so this is about his obedience now? You beat him, I’m not an idiot. That
violates the contract we have.”
“The contract we have states that I cannot abuse him. You know the only legal
state of abuse for a slave is setting one free on public land? I can do
anything I want to him: beat, rape, fucking torture and starve and it is within
my legal right.”
“How can you say that and still boast about a cruelty free farm?”
Reggie just snorted, coughing a bit at the blood that he inhaled into his
mouth. It turned into a laugh, showing off his iron stained teeth. He knew he
had Azel beat just by the look on the boy’s face. “Cruelty free... That has all
sorts of implications doesn’t it.” Reginald stood, brushing his shirt until it
hung evenly despite the rip. “I’ll make you a deal. Eat and I’ll let you
partially own Theorin. You will receive no percentage of profit but you will be
allowed in all decision making, which includes how to treat him when he is
disobeying. However, I’m making it your sole responsibility to see to it that
he complies with everything assigned to him. You can deal with that if you
don’t want him hit on occasion.”
Azel stared at him, like an animal caught in a bright light. “What if I can’t
be here all the time?”
“Then I suggest you hire someone.” Reginald replied as he walked out the door.
“I’ll send a domestic in a bit. Get dressed, though, will you.”
 
***********
“Reggie?”
A women’s voice was on the other side of his closed office door.
“Come in.”
“I heard screaming earlier and -- Oh my god! What happened to your face?”
Malise stood in the doorway, her brows furrowed, worried, as she took in the
blood on Reginald’s face and the rusty stains on his shirt.
“It’s nothing to worry about, I can barely feel it--”
“You’re high right now, aren’t you?”
Malise’s voice was monotone in it’s disappointment and Reggie wanted to roll
his eyes.
The tranquilizer they kept in the barns was a stable and safe drug, used when a
brood was feeling too emotional to breed or if they were having trouble
controlling a powerful stud. In small doses it gave a pleasant high with mild
muscle relaxation. Reginald had dabbled in it when he’d first learned it from
another breeder, who boasted about the drug’s ability to lessen his worries.
Sometimes, when Regginald became overwhelmed by the stresses that it took to
run the farm or if he had to make a hard decision, he’d shoot some tranq and
let it mellow him for the sake of a small respite.
Malise often gave him shit when he used it and this time was no different, so
he blatantly ignored her.
“I’m giving Azel fifty percent ownership of Theorin with a no profit or
downpayment agreement, could you write up the paper work, please?”
“What?” she exclaimed, flustered. “What the hell is going on Reggie?”
Demanding as ever. Reggie sighed and rubbed his eyes, the drug was wearing off.
“I need Azel to eat, so he will gain some weight and leave. Giving him fifty
percent ownership, provided he eats and hires someone that will get Theorin to
behave, will hopefully give him some peice of mind so he starts eating again.
Theorin’s live cover ended in a confused brood and an angered stud, and his
extraction today took two hours. I don’t have time to be there for two hours
every time and I’m starting to realize how much work Theorin is.”
Malise’s expression gentle, “That’s what a rescue case is Reggie. It’s a ton of
work and to be honest, I was surprised when you bought him. But, I’m also a
little shocked that you’re letting Azel have some control over Theorin now.
It’s taken you a long time to earn his trust and it’s only been a month of him
standing officially at stud. You also seemed to be getting rather fond--”
“Just stop,” Reginald snapped as anger rushed threw him. “Theorin has made it
clear that he has no affection for whoever owns him... only for that sniveling,
old money spoiled, brat.”
Malise frowned, “Azel needs help Reginald, and we both know that this isn’t
about Theorin’s obedience.” the disapproval obvious in her tone.
“Well, I still want him gone,” Reginald slammed his hand down on the table.
Malise jumped in surprise. Then, she huffed, done with Reginald’s tantrum, and
removed herself from the office, leaving the slave master to wallow in his own
self pity.
***** XVI *****
The door had shut behind Reginald with a soft click, but neither Azel nor
Theorin moved. Theorin’s arms were stilled wrapped around Azel’s waist and Azel
sat, naked, on the slave’s lap.
“Reginald never told me you were here,” Theorin’s deep whispering voice gently
broke the silence.
Azel swallowed down the emotional frustrations that boiled in his throat, and
curled into himself, shuddering with guilt asTheorin’s arms wrapped tighter
around him. “I told him not to tell you...”
“Why?”
Azel winced at the disappointment in that one word. “I didn’t want you to see
me like this.”
Theorin’s eyes tightened in hurt, and his arms shifted and wrapped round Azel
more thoroughly, gathering up his thin frame. A sob escaped Azel before Theorin
could reply.
“I-I’m just so weak... And... And I c-can’t protect...”
Theorin rocked him, “Shhhh, Azel, I don’t need protecting.”
Azel sniffled through his tears and looked up at Theorin, bringing his hand up
to brush against the fresh bruise on the side of Theorin’s face.
Theorin’s lips twitched up at the touch, and lowered his head so their
foreheads pressed together, taking in the obsidian of Azel’s eyes, glossy and
bright from his tears. “I’ll be okay, Azel. I think this is the worst Reginald
can do.” Though Theorin didn’t believe it himself, knowing what people were
capable of, he was glad when Azel relaxed against him, comforted by the words.
When he had stopped crying, Theorin lifted Azel up and sat him on the edge of
the bed, quickly combing threw the duffle bag on the floor until he pulled out
a familiar pair of flannel pajama pants and slipped them up Azel’s legs.
Azel held no protest at being dressed. He balanced with his hands on Theorin’s
shoulders as he stood up so Theorin could slip the rest of the pants up to his
hips where he tied the draw string tight so they wouldn’t slip bellow Azel’s
bum.
Theorin felt Azel’s steady gaze on him the entire time. He met those dark eyes
and smiled, “What?”
A charming blush rushed through Azel’s complexion, turning it from a gaunt,
pale into a healthy pink. “I’m just not used to seeing you like this,” He said
waving his hand at Theorin’s body before turning his head away and staring at
the ground.
A knock at the door interrupted them, and Theorin left Azel on the bed to go
and answer it. On the other side was a domestic, his head shaved and face
wrinkled from age, holding a small bowl of soup and two white pills snuggly
sitting on the plate underneath it. Theorin took it and thanked him, shutting
the door and approaching Azel cautiously with the steaming bowl.
Azel sighed, “I’m not going to whip the scalding soup at you if that’s what
you’re worried about.”
Theorin raised his one eyebrow, but set the soup bowl and plate down on the
small bedside table, holding out the clean spoon to Azel. “You’r not? Does this
mean I’m not going to have to force you to eat it?”
“No, you won’t,” Azel said as he snatched the spoon. However, staring down into
the slowly swirling, sodium saturated liquid, his stomach jerked into knots and
he froze, the spoon just about to touch the surface.
A gentle hand removed the spoon from his bony fingers, and dipped the spoon in,
scooping some vegetables up with the broth. Theorin brought it to his mouth and
blew on it. When he was satisfied with the temperature, he offered it to Azel,
presenting it before his mouth. Azel opened, his lips drawing back before
hesitantly dragging his teeth against the smooth surface of the spoon and
collecting the soup into his mouth. Theorin gave him a warm smile as he
swallowed.
“Not so hard, was it?”
Azel was about to give the smart ass slave a scowl when the food finally seemed
to hit his stomach. Hunger writhed in his gut like a rat in a jar. He didn’t
know if he wanted to eat a thousand more spoonfuls of soup or throw up. Theorin
didn’t give him another chance to decide before another spoonful was being
presented to him, the warm metal physically pressed to his lips.
Azel allowed himself to be fed like this until the bowl was gone, his stomach
threatening to revolt as the spoon finally clinked inside the empty bowl. He
felt bloated as he gently flopped onto his back on the bed and shut his eyes.
With food finally in his belly his bones felt heavy, and the energy it took to
stay awake was slowly slipping away.
Theorin leaned down on his side next to Azel, enjoying the sight of his
features relaxing. His fingers moved out of their own volition and traced
Azel’s lips, their light touch exploring and drew a release of breath from the
boys lungs, coating his fingers in residual heat from the hot soup. Azel’s eyes
fluttered open, his light eyelashes hovering above his dark eyes as he gazed
lazily at Theorin, lips curving up in a smile as the slave moved his hand to
cup his jaw and guide him close. Close enough so they shared the same breath
and their noses gently touched.
“How is your head?”
Azel’s lower abdomen prickled at the sound of Theorin’s voice, so low and rich,
with a small hint of the borough attached to the way he said his vowels that
was so profoundly foreign and comforting at the same time, it took Azel a few
breaths to answer him. “It still aches a bit.”
Theorin sat up, the loss of his closeness affecting Azel more than he thought
it would judging by the way the boy squirmed to sit up, and grabbed the two
pills that were left on the plate. He reached back with an arm, so much more
defined and thick than Azel remembered, and helped to support Azel while he
grabbed the little white pills out of Theorin’s offered hand. Azel swallowed
them dry, wincing when one caught before it went all the way down.
“Do you need any water?” Theorin asked after watching Azel’s face scrunch up.
Azel shook his head, “No. I think I just need some sleep.” Feeling bold, he
tipped his head so it rested on Theorin’s shoulder, and he let his arms wrap
around Theorin’s chest, clinging to his shirt. Instantly an incomprehensible
sense of panic took over him, his muscles stiffening and he didn’t even realize
he had crawled onto Theorin’s lap, shaking and pleading,“Don’t leave me, please
never leave me...” over and over into the crook of Theorin’s neck. Theorin just
held onto him, until he calmed down, letting him remain where he was, curled
against Theorin’s chest and held inside his arms.
“I’m not going anywhere, Azel. I promise.” He untangled himself from Azel’s
limbs after he pulled back the quilt, and placed the boy on the mattress so he
could cover him with the blanket. “I’m just going to turn off the lights so you
can get to sleep. I’ll be right back.”
Azel’s eyes were wide now, and his knobby fingers clutched the quilt while he
watched Theorin walk away. A flip of a switch sent the room in to near
darkness, the only light coming from the very last hues of a grey twilight from
the window. Theorin quietly made it back to the bed, not surprised that Azel
didn’t settle until Theorin was under the covers and wrapping him in his arms.
“I-I’m sorry...” Azel trailed off as he traced patterns through the shirt on
Theorin’s chest. “I just... I feel like I just got you back and... and...” the
words died in his throat as it threatened to constrict and draw tears.
“And you’re exhausted and need to sleep.” Theorin finished his thought for him.
Seeing Azel react like this was wearing down his own nerves and he knew Azel
felt the same sentiment of just wanting to sleep in each others arms. “I’ll be
here when you wake up. I promise, Azel.”
The words seemed to relax Azel and he fell into a deep sleep long before
Theorin had settled enough to close his eyes.
 
***********
 
It wasn’t the soft glow of the winter morning that awoke Theorin. In fact, it
was nothing at all that drew him away from sleep. His dreams had been filled
with warmth and comfort and that’s what he had awoken to.
Azel lay fast sleep, his light body draped over Theorin’s chest with their legs
tangled. The quilt was still over both of them, holding in the heat that melded
them together. Theorin’s eyes cracked open as Azel shifted his hips and
groaned, but his mind drifted back into sleep. He awoke again and floated in
and out, as Azel kept shifting, moaning and making sweet, soft, mewling noises.
Theorin lay in semi-consciousness, his mind foggy and confused about the
movement going on in the comfortable bed, when all he wanted to do was go back
to sleep.
Finally, it was the hand that grabbed Theorin’s junk and squeezed that shot him
straight up like a springboard. He gasped, his eyes wide from shock and the
rush of blood into his groin. On instinct, when the pressure had not abated
after his initial flailing, Theorin grabbed the offensive being by the
shoulders and flipped their positions, relieving the hand from it’s grip on his
balls and planting Azel firmly beneath him.
A lazy smile spread across Azel’s face as he looked up at Theorin, relishing in
the mortification and astonishment that fought for control over the larger
man’s features. “Oh good, you’re awake.”
The astonishment won. It was like Theorin was frozen, his face nearly blank,
except for the brightness smoldering in his amethyst eyes.
The light from the window had increased, but it was an overcast day, so it
still remained gentle, casting a silver glow where it touched the wisps of
Theorin’s hair that had escaped from it’s tie during sleep. To Azel, he was
stunningly beautiful in that moment. A literal picture of the stupid poetry he
had to study in his younger school years that he had secretly loved; something
worthy of beholding, just to remain in it’s presence a few seconds longer. Not
able to help himself, Azel wrapped his arms around Theorin’s neck and gently
kissed him, taking in his smell, his taste, and the languid way their bodies
pressed together; a mating surface from lips to toes.
Theorin pulled away for a breath, taking the time to adjust himself so his hard
cock pressed in between Azel’s thighs, with Azel’s obvious bulge pressing into
his stomach. Azel squirmed under him, gasping and grabbing at the quilt as his
muscles grew taunt. Theorin’’s mouth nibbled, nipped and kissed Azel’s neck and
chest, delighting in the way Azel’s skin flushed at his shoulders, and throat.
A knock at the door paused them both.
“That would be breakfast,” Theorin said, getting up and off Azel, to answer the
door.
Azel felt the loss of Theorin’s touch almost as physically as he did the loss
of heat from the blankets. He curled up into a ball, and snuggled back in,
shivering slightly from coming into contact with the morning temperature of the
house. He watched Theorin walk away, still clothed and hiding his tented crotch
from the domestic with his hand. Theorin politely took the tray from the slave
girl, carrying two steaming bowls of porridge with fruit as a topping, and
placed them on the bedside table.
The steam taunted Azel, so warm and inviting, yet the thought of eating made
his stomach turn. He shivered from under the blankets.
“If you eat this it will get you nice and warm.” Theorin suggested, grabbing
the bowl and offering it to Azel.
Azel just stared at it. “I’m not hungry.”
Theorin frowned at the tone of Azel’s words. “You know you have to eat this, so
why not get it over with?”
“I’m not hungry,” came Azel’s muffled reply as he buried himself deep in the
pillows and blankets, like a small animal might do in its burrow.
Theorin set the bowl back down. Disappointment and frustration soured the pure
delight he had been living in just minutes before. Did this mean that Azel
didn’t want him? Reginald had made it clear that Azel had to eat or he wouldn’t
sign off on the shared ownership paper work. Hurt unfurled in his chest like
the tricky beast it was, but it relented when Azel continued to shiver, buried
to his hair line in the mountain of quilts.
“Are you not hungry or are you just cold?”
Azel’s eye popped from behind the fabric, one orb glaring accusingly at
Theorin. “I’m fucking freezing,” he pouted, “And I wouldn’t be if you would
have just stayed in bed with me.”
Not taking the bait of Azel’s jab,Theorin smiled slyly, “If you eat one bite of
oatmeal, I’ll crawl back into bed with you.”
“Fine,” Azel said so quiet Theorin almost didn’t hear him.
Smug, Theorin sat on the bed with a bowl and spoon in his hands. He scooped up
as much of the thickened slop as he could, careful to get a couple berries on
it then held it out after blowing it to the right temperature.
The rest of Azel’s face slowly rose from the blankets, and he even kept the
quilt up to his shoulders as he sat up in bed, unwilling to uncover his arms or
shoulders. He looked away from Theorin, a light blush on his cheeks before
opening his mouth, awaiting the spoonful of food.
Theorin lifted one eye brow, “You look like a baby bird.” The comment earned
him a sharp kick muffled by the blankets.
 “Just shut up and feed me.”
Chuckling, the deep rumble sending hot prickles up the base of Azel’s spine,
Theorin fed him the spoonful. Azel ate it carefully, only taking small amounts
into his mouth at a time, scared his stomach would revolt. When he was
finished, Theorin pulled his shirt off, “For increased warmth,” he said but
Azel just rolled his eyes, and crawled under the quilts with him. Theorin’s
bare skin was a source of warmth and comfort and Azel didn’t hold himself back
from plastering himself against him, nuzzling and wriggling. Theorin laughed
again and the vibration echoed enchantingly through both of their bodies.
Laughter had been rare, and it’s presence now thrummed in the air between them.
“Stop it, you’re tickling me,” Theorin said through gasps in his laughter.
“I can’t help it,” Azel cuddled in closer, his movements erratic from his
shivering.
When he finally managed to settle, and Theorin got his breath back, the world
held itself still. It was just them, in the early light. Azel traced the old
scars on Theorin’s chest with his fingers and then with his tongue. Theorin’s
spine arched and Azel nearly purred at how it made Theorin’s stomach muscles
ripple under his touch.
Theorin grabbed his face gently between his hands and brought their lips
together, drawing a moan from Azel’s throat.
“Are you warm now?” He asked, once Azel’s lips were red and swollen from his
attention.
Azel looked a bit dazed, but his smiled reached his eyes when he said, “Yeah”
then snuggled in closer.
Theorin couldn’t help letting his hands roam over Azel’s body. He enjoyed the
warmth of his skin, but every protruding bone that he came across, vertebrae,
ribs, hips, sent a coil of rage threw him. He got lost in his inner turmoil
until Azel pressed a soft kiss on his brow, drawing him back to the present.
“You look worried,” he whispered, eyes a rich mahogany as he watched Theorin.
Theorin blinked a few times to clear his head, “I’m sorry, I’m just...” Worried
about you? Will do anything to protect you but I can’t because I’m a slave and
have to do what I’m told, so it’s eating me up inside? “I... I want to know why
you stopped eating.”
The request hung in the air, thick and unforgiving. Azel’s face stiffened, and
Theorin felt his muscles tense through his entire body. His eyes got that blank
look, the colour going to a glazed smokey obsidian. Yet, he spoke.
What he told Theorin, was the briefest of recollection of the slaves he killed
and what his uncle had said to him. This didn’t come as a shock to Theorin, he
had seen much worse happen to slaves, but he was bothered by it from the way
Azel’s face twisted in grief, to that lifeless mask, then back to grief; the
emotion strong enough to break his defense of numbness.
When he was done, Theorin held him close. He didn’t cry, but the waves of
tension that rolled off of him were nearly palpable. Theorin wanted to punch
something. Burn something. Sink his teeth into whoever was responsible and pull
out their throat. Azel’s uncle, a man of average height and average looks,
flashed in his mind and almost lit a spark of hatred. Theorin had never hated
before. Hate was a strong emotion and he would have thought he’d have those all
beaten out of him when he was twelve. However, when Azel’s tears finally came,
shattering him into pieces inside Theorin’s arms, something remarkable
happened. Something swelled in Theorin as he stared at the beautifully broken
face.
“I love you.”
The words hung in the air like a monstrous cloud, hushing Azel’s sniffling and
stopping Theorin’s breathing.
What had he done, Theorin internally lamented. He’d ruined it. He’d spoiled the
borderline relationship he’d had with Azel. What did he know about love? A
memory played in his head over and over as a good solid reminder. He was being
beaten with a flogger across his chest,
‘You love that don’t you.’
 The small curls of wire drawing thin lines of blood across his protruding ribs
and collarbone. He was tied, he remembered, but it was unclear whether the
excruciating pain in his gut was from a fist being elbow deep or an oversized
dildo. “You just love it, can’t get enough.” More pain. “Say it, say that you
love it!”
He escaped the memory with a gasp, finding himself on the floor. He was soaked
in sweat and shaking uncontrollably. Reality crashed back in the form of Azel’s
proximity, the feeling of his arms, and his smell, the way his frail body was
an anchor for Theorin’s psych. They held each other for what felt like hours.
When Theorin’s breathing returned to normal, Azel tipped his head and gave him
a chaste peck on the lips.
“I love you too.”
***** XVII *****
It had taken three days of regular meals before Theorin no longer had to
bargain with Azel to eat. Much to Theorin’s chagrin, Azel had also taken it
upon himself to coddle Theorin and be with him every waking moment. Theorin
wasn’t annoyed by it, but the slaves muttered when they walked passed and
Theorin could practically see rumors spreading like wildfire.
Theorin takes his meals in the house with Master. Theorin sleeps in his old
master’s bed. Theorin hasn’t stepped a foot into the barn in three days.
Theorin is a pet, not a stud.
These rumors caused Reginald some stress. Turmoil within the slave dynamic was
never good, but some of the handlers had come up to him with concerns over what
was now being discussed around the dinner table. He didn’t believe Theorin was
in any danger but he knew how some slaves could be, especially towards each
other. So, when Azel request that Theorin sleep with him every night until he
left, Reggie was forced to agree, despite his wave of green jealousy. Theorin
would be safer out of the barns for the time being.
It was after happily finishing a hearty plate of steamed spinach and beets that
Reginald interrupted Theorin and Azel while they sat at a small table in one of
the entertainment rooms, their lips died red and picking the small pieces of
leaf from their teeth. Theorin stood up from his seat as his master entered,
but Reginald just waived him down. He handed Azel a thick vanilla folder.
“These are copies of all of Theorin’s records, and all I will need is for you
to sign the first two pages and it’s done.” He didn’t mean for his voice to
sound so clipped, and regretted not holding himself back when Theorin flinched.
Azel politely took them from his hand and signed both copies of the contract
and handed one of them back to Reggie. “If you don’t mind, I would also like to
review the original contract of sale.”
Reginald nodded, knowing exactly what was coming. “That might take some time,
but I’m free after dinner tonight, we can review it then.”
“Thank you,” Azel said quietly as Reginald left the room, the signed paper held
so tightly in his hand it wrinkled, as he moved swiftly to his office.
The two had watched him leave, one with a worried expression.
“I should go talk to him,” Theorin said, and stood.
“No, you’re not.” Azel snapped, making Theorin freeze, ad Azel instantly
regretted his tone and spoke much softer. “He doesn’t deserve you.”
Theorin cocked his head to the side, “And you do?”
This had the desired effect that sent Azel sputtering, clearly not expecting
that. It made Theorin feel brave, and he put his hands on the table and leaned
over Azel until their noses were an inch apart, his broad frame towering over
Azel’s from where the blonde man sat in the chair.
“Azel.” They locked eyes when he said his name, the violet touching the
glimmering black. Theorin’s breath ghosted over Azel’s face. The boy’s eyes
dilated making Theorin swallow before he whispered his next words with a
crooked smile. “I’m only joking.”
Azel’s expression didn’t change, but he sat up straighter, closing the distance
between their lips. “I know.”
Their kiss smoldered gradually; movements languid and relaxed.
They spent the rest of the day lazying about like they had previously, although
Azel was a little on edge. He had gotten a phone call from Bruce, telling him
that his Uncle was wanting him back home sooner rather than later, and he had
still not found a suitable handler for Theorin. He’d done a couple phone
interviews, but handlers looking for a job in the low season were mostly
inexperienced or had no formal training. He had one name left on his list and
was procrastinating against it. Her name was Reyna, and from her resume she
seemed more than qualified, but Azel didn’t know how he felt about her.
He was reading her resume for the fifth time at the desk in his room when
Theorin came up behind and draped his arms over Azel’s bony shoulders, his chin
resting behind Azel’s ear.
“What are you reading?” He said gently.
Azel sighed at the physical contact, the feel of Theorin’s mouth so close
relaxing the tension from his neck. “A resume from a handler... for you.”
“Oh.” Theorin raised an eyebrow, interested. “Anyone suitable?”
Azel sighed again, “Not really.”
“Reyna Abott. Certified Hander in Slave reproduction, rehabilitation and
training. Completed first four years of school in slave handling at the
University of Pluto, finished fifth and sixth year at the University of Earth.
Extensive experience in slave retraining and psychology studies. Committed,
hard working, seeking an entry level position in a slave breeding or training
establishment. She sounds pretty good to me...”
Azel had pulled himself out of the slave’s grasp, spinning his chair around to
stare at him.
“What is it, Azel?”
“You can read?”
Theorin smiled at his astonished expression “Yes.”
“I never knew that.” Azel’s voice came out sombre. “I guess that’s my own
fault, I haven’t been around you very much. Reginald probably knows you a lot
better than I do.”
Those words hurt Theorin, in a way he couldn’t explain. He grabbed Azel by the
hands and pulled him out of the chair and into his arms. Azel made muffled
noise of surprise once he was plastered to Theorin’s chest, but he easily
snuggled into the embrace, his face in the crook of Theorin’s neck. They stood
like that in silence. Theorin didn’t know what to say.
“Where did you learn to read?” Azel whispered against skin.
Theorin started tracing invisible lines on Azel’s back before he spoke. “I
don’t remember.”
“You’d have to remember something like that. I was six, went to Orion
Elementary School. Got the hang of reading by the end of that year.”
“The first thing I remember is waking up in a very dark box, feeling like I
hadn’t eaten anything in weeks. The only thing I remembered was my name and
that I was ten years old.”
Azel’s arms tightened around him, and for once, Theorin felt his heartbeat and
breathing stay normal as he sifted through his earliest memories of slave
training. He was in awe, really. He’d never done it before without breaking
down into subspace the way the exercises had made him all those years ago. He
felt so much stronger in Azel’s arms, like those years couldn’t touch him now,
like Azel’s touch pulverized them into little meaningless crumbles of memory.
“It... It bothers me that I can’t remember anything before that.” The words
spilled out of his lips before he could bury them in Azel’s flaxen hair.
Azel pulled away slowly and gently, taking Theorin with him to the bed by
grabbing his sleeve. He guided Theorin onto his back, the slave pliable and
vulnerable from his confession.
Theorin watched as Azel straddled him, supporting himself by putting his frail
hands on Theorin’s chest. His fingers brushed at the neckline of Theorin’s
shirt, catching skin where his scars bubbled up from his normal flesh. “Could
it be traumatic amnesia?” he said thoughtfully.
Theorin laughed with no mirth, the movement of his stomach muscles bumping Azel
in his seat. He was just so damn light. Before he spoke he rested his hands on
the top of Azel’s thighs, “I don’t know what kind of traumatic event could have
happened that I haven’t already lived through, but maybe.”
Azel seemed not to like that answer, judging by the crease in his brow. He
leant down and kissed Theorin, first on the forehead, then on his mouth. “I’m
taking you off the farm tomorrow, just for the day.”
Theorin’s curiosity perked up. “Where are we going?”
“To the lake.” Azel said, happiness filling him when he saw Theorin’s eyes
light up.
“I’ve never been to a lake before.”
********************
 
After super, Azel met with Reginald to comb over the original sales contract.
It was brutally tedious work, but Reginald looked more haggard than Azel had
ever seen him. He had bags under his eyes and it looked like he hadn’t even
bothered to brush his hair that morning.
“Are you feeling alright?” Azel asked hesitantly once they’d finished
discussing the ‘no hitting’ part of the contract for Theorin.
“Yes, I’m fine Azel, why do you ask?”
Because you look like shit. “Well, I was just going to ask you if I could take
Theorin to the lake ruins for the day, but if you would rather he stay here...”
Reginald seemed to hesitate but then relented. “No, it’s fine. Take him, you
both could use some time out of the house.”
Glad he didn’t have to use any of the numerous possible arguments he’d cooked
up earlier, he nearly skipped out of Reginald's office.
Their meeting had run late enough that it was dark outside by the time Azel
made it back to the room. Inside he found Theorin, still awake, but dosing on
the bed. He had slowly sat up while Azel walked in.
Azel grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head as he
walked to the bathroom.
“Take a shower with me?”
Theorin was bright eyed in seconds, and followed Azel into the bathroom
removing articles of clothing as they went.
Azel cranked the shower on and stuck his hand out to test the temperature when
he was pushed through the warm spray and slammed into the cool white of the
shower tiles, his hands barely making it out in enough time to spare his face.
Shivers plucked at his spine. Theorin was instantly completely still behind
him, with each hand pressed white into the tile on each side of Azel’s head.
Something had shifted, some sort of dynamic between them, and Azel’s mind
scrambled to catch up.
Slowly, Azel turned his head. The steam had billowed behind Theorin as the
water continued to pound out from the shower. The vibrant, unusual colour of
the slave’s eyes cut through the haze to catch Azel’s, stealing his breath from
his chest. Theorin was nearly ethereal, his skin sparkling from the droplets of
water, and his hair falling out of it’s tie to rest, dark and saturated, on the
curve of his shoulders. Nearly expressionless, the intensity of his gaze
threatened to shatter, to destroy, any thought Azel had.
Slowly, hesitantly, and with courage he didn’t know he possessed, Azel reach
out and placed his hand on Theorin’s chest. The slave didn’t move, and Azel
marveled, in a ludicrous moment of lust, of how the curve of pec muscle felt
under his had as waves of fear hurdled to his throat. He knew Theorin would
never hurt him, but he’d been with Reginald for so long, what if he did? It
wasn’t unheard of for a slave to injure, even murder a master. They’re so
damaged sometimes that even the most stable ones can behave unpredictably. As
Azel’s thin frame started shaking from the damp cold, Theorin’s frame remained
solid, proof that the slave was more than capable of this feat.
“Tell me you’re mine,” Theorin whispered, only loud enough for Azel to barely
hear over the falling water and the rushing static of his thoughts.
Theorin’s arms remained tense as Azel’s eyes flickered over the reddened skin
of his shoulders, pelted by the scorching water, then back to his face. “I’m
yours, you know that.” He said, succeeding in keeping the desperation out and
his words gentle. They flowed out and struck something that lessened the
tension between them. Theorin’s eyes seemed to soften. Relief flooded to Azel’s
finger tips, and he continued. “It doesn’t matter where I am or where you are,
I will always belong to you. To no one else”
Theorin’s whole body shuddered. “Say it...” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Say it,
again.”
“Theorin, I’m yours.”
With his muscles twitching as his arms relaxed, Theorin lowered his head until
his and Azel’s foreheads touched, his eyes still closed. “You’re mine,” he
breathed, his lips shaping the words but not emitting any sound as if he didn’t
believe it.
Azel grazed his arms from Theorin’s chest to rest on his shoulders, letting one
drift over to the tap to turn it to a more bearable temperature. Theorin’s arms
had slipped limply from the wall and settled on Azel’s hips, his thumbs
following the groove of Azel’s hollow hip bone.
“Promise me something,” Theorin said, his voice gravely and tight.
Azel rubbed at the stiff shoulder muscle beneath his hands before he answered.
“What is it, Theorin?”
It had been obvious that Theorin had been battling something, probably over
thinking and brooding while Azel had been in the meeting with Reggie, and Azel
now felt guilty for thinking that Theorin would hurt him. However, the lack of
expressed emotion was still unnerving. Theorin had to let it out, somehow.
“Eat.” Theorin’s voice had found it’s odd borough again, his words spilling out
with passion. “No matter what’s going on, even if you feel like the world is
crushing you, like you can’t breath. I need you to promise me you’ll eat. Keep
your strength. Fight. I can’t lose you, you’re the only thing I’ve ever had.”
His hands squeezed Azel’s hips gently, “I won’t lose the most... precious piece
of my life. Not to the demons of this world that are out of my control.”
Azel’s body rattled at Theorin’s words, but not physically. It was the ghost of
himself, the part that didn’t care, that wanted to leave; the whisper that told
him he wasn’t hungry. It shattered, ripped and fell to dust as he wrapped his
arms around Theorin’s neck and landed the slave with a panicked kiss. Their
teeth clicked and Theorin’s tongue scorched Azel’s palette.
Theorin’s hands struggled to get a grip on Azel’s water slicked skin as he
backed them both into the spray where it was warm. The water forced Azel to
break his kiss with a gasp and choke as water found it’s way into his nose.
Theorin adjusted him so his face was out of the water, nearly slipping in the
process as he grabbed at a bottle of liquid soap and drizzled it all over
himself and Azel. There were hands everywhere then, from the both of them,
mixing with short gasps and white suds. Theorin wrapped his arms fully around
Azel’s stomach and pulled them back into the spray to rinse, taking extra care
to graze his soap slick nails over Azel’s nipples.
The sensation startled and aroused Azel, and he let Theorin tip his head back
and wet, then soap and rinse, his hair. He wasn’t surprised to feel Theorin’s
lips on his throat, licking the quickly cooling water and replace it with a
line of the heated remnant of his tongue.
 Azel’s dick was hard and aching by the time Theorin had decided that they were
both clean enough to get out of the shower. He turned the water off and grabbed
a couple towels, throwing one over Azel’s shoulders before drying himself. A
low hum sounding in his throat as the fabric grazed over his cock and Azel
couldn’t keep his eyes off the red, engorged flesh.
There was a pinch in his lower abdomen and he gasped as a wave of arousal hit
him, barely focusing enough to dry the water off his own skin. Theorin helped
him finish drying, then whisked him from the bathroom and guided him onto his
stomach on the bed. Long fingered hands lifted Azel’s hips and he buried his
face into the comforter, his skin prickling and flushing red as those fingers
opened the cheeks of his ass to expose his hole. Azel wasn’t prepared for
Theorin’s tongue on that part of his body, nor the reaction that it would
engender from him. His nerve endings were set on fire, lit by Theorin’s slick
prying and stroking tongue. There was a high pitched mewling that echoed
through the room, and he didn’t know it was coming from his slack jaw until
Theorin’s mouth had pulled away and he gained control of his own body again.
“I didn’t know you could make a noise like that Azel,” Theorin said
breathlessly from behind him.
Azel turned his head so his one eye could catch sight of the slave. Theorin’s
hair had dried somewhat, but it was a tangled mess to his shoulders, outlining
his face and doing nothing to hide that genuine smile that went to his eyes.
Despite the elation that Azel got when that expression was directed at him, he
frowned at Theorin. His body was on a thin line between release and
frustration, and it seemed as if Theorin intended for it to be that way.
“If you don’t hurry up--” but his voice was stopped as Theorin gently pushed
two of his fingers into Azel’s mouth.
“Suck.”
Azel shuddered as he obeyed without hesitation, rolling Theorin’s fingers with
his tongue.
The slave took his spit slicked fingers and lazily slipped them around and then
inside Azel’s clenching ring of muscle. Azel’s back tensed, and he moaned into
the blankets, moving his hips to push back against the fingers. The slow,
stretching sense of pain and the dragging pleasure caused sweat to prickle from
the red flush of his skin. He was a gasping, wriggling mess once Theorin was
done stroking.
“Please...” Azel gasped, his cock curved towards his concave stomach, weeping
and desperate.
Theorin’s hands massaged and spread Azel’s ass cheeks before the head of his
cock was placed against Azel’s hole. “I don’t need you to beg Azel,” he said
gently, before the pressure built and his cock slipped inside of Azel, at first
with a pop, and then inch by inch. Theorin laced his hands through Azel’s
blonde hair, gently stroking from his neck to hair line, as the boy squirmed
and panted his way through the uncomfortable sensation of being impaled.
Theorin used his own saliva for more lube, rocking in and out, tilting Azel’s
hips until he sunk to his balls inside of his heat.
Azel was still supporting himself up, but his arms were quivering as Theorin
kissed his boney shoulder blades, and drug his fingers across his lithe chest
and stomach. How Theorin wished that he felt the old layer of muscle that would
have rippled over the bones that were so easily felt now. There was barely any
substance to Azel, and the first thrust into him nearly lifted him off the bed.
Theorin ground his teeth, holding himself back from slamming in more sharply.
The heat where their flesh met had engulfed Azel’s whole body like an itch
under his skin. He panted and moaned Theorin’s name, every nudge inside of him
spiking pleasure. Theorin’s thrusts were slow and methodical, dragging out the
dull ache in his gut, the slightly painful stretch. Azel felt more kisses on
his back when his arms finally gave way, his chest falling to the mattress
beneath him. The new tilt of his pelvis pressed Theorin’s cock into his
prostate and he gulped air and cried out in such a high pitch he was
practically keening.
“Easy, Azel.” Theorin cooed, his wicked, long fingered hands grazing, then
grasping, the sensitive flesh of Azel’s cock and balls.
Azel could have cum right then, but Theorin pulled away completely. His cock
dragged out of Azel and his heated touch withdrew.
 Azel felt the cold and the emptiness like a sharp twinge in his gut. His skin
shivered and the ache turned to fury within seconds. He whipped around to face
Theorin, snarling in his frustration. “What...the... fuck!” His chest was
heaving so much, he spat the words out in separate huffs.
Theorin stood there, amethyst eyes polished with amusement, his cock dripping
pre-cum onto the floor. There it is, he thought, as he stared into Azel’s
smoldering obsidian eyes, “There’s your fire.” Relief washed through him.
“My what?” Azel groaned, as he rolled over on his back, sheer frustration
making him take his cock into his own hand.
Theorin slapped his hand away and snatched it by the wrist, then grabbed the
other one and put them together so he could hold Azel’s hands above his head
and pin him to the mattress. He settled between Azel’s legs, leaning down to
kiss Azel briefly on the lips.
“Your fire,” he kissed Azel again. “That blazing darkness you get in your eyes
sometimes. I was worried it was gone.” Another kiss. “But you’ve turned out to
be much stronger than I realized.”
Azel stared at Theorin’s face, studying the lines but not daring to look into
those hooded vibrant eyes. “I’m only strong when I’m with you.”
Theorin laughed, the vibrations of his chest reverberating through the skin on
skin contact, making it feel like Azel’s bones were humming.
“You have no idea, do you?”
Azel met Theorin’s eyes, confusion creasing the skin between his brow by the
sad tone of Theorin’s voice. “About what?”
Theorin sighed, and stroked the blonde hair off of Azel’s forehead with one
hand. “You don’t treat me like a slave. Ever.’
“So?”
“So...” Theorin ground his cock against Azel’s until those dark eyes nearly
rolled back in his head. “You think I just behave like this naturally? You turn
me on so much it melts away everything else. Everything that was ever done to
me. “
Azel gasped, shuddering underneath Theorin, barely able to form words. “I don’t
understand what you’re, ah, getting at.”
“You want to know why Reginald hit me?”
“Theorin--”
 “It was because I accidentally admitted that I didn’t see you as a master.”
Azel, couldn’t answer, he just lay on the bed, staring at Theorin. The slave
had stopped moving his hips, waiting for Azel’s reaction.
“You don’t see me as a master?” Azel repeated dumbly, his mind still foggy no
matter how still Theorin’s hips were.
“I don’t feel like a slave around you, and you don’t feel like my master. You
don’t order me around or threaten me, nor do you make me feel belittled. You’ve
tried your hardest to protect me and have suffered for it.”
Azel’s eyes softened, “I think all Master’s should protect their slaves. It’s
not like you get many choices to make on your own. The least I could do was
find you a nice place to live after all you’ve been through.”
Theorin gave Azel a light kiss on the lips in response, still trying to process
his emotions and figure out why he suddenly seemed to ache all over after
hearing Azel’s thoughts. “You still haven’t made that promise to me.”
Azel snorted in exasperation, making Theorin smile. “I promise that whatever
happens, I’ll eat and keep my strength.” Then he squirmed, taking extra care to
make sure his back arched enough that their cocks slipped together.
Done playing around, Theorin put Azel’s wrists into one hand and brought his
other one down to rub his remaining pre-cum over his cock and lined it up to
slip back inside of Azel as he lifted the boy’s leg to get the right angle.
The itching friction from no use of lubrication made Azel hiss, and to his
surprise, made Theorin tighten his hold on his wrists and continue shoving his
cock into the resisting ring of muscle. By the time he was back in all the way,
Azel was a squirming mess, his eyes tearing up from the burn and nearly
sobbing.
“Shit, Azel. If it hurts that much, I’ll stop.” Theorin said quickly as he
stilled, using almost all of his control not to move in Azel’s tight heat. He
should have known better than to take Azel nearly dry.
“No, I... I think I... like it.” Azel said so garbled through his erratic
breathing that it was barely audible.
Theorin couldn’t breath, not believing his ears. He studied Azel’s face, and
saw those determined eyes staring right back at him. “You like it?”
Azel could only nod as he shifted on Theorin’s cock, the sensation, flushing
his skin an attractive shade of pink. It was like he could feel every burning
inch of Theorin’s cock, lodged deeply in his sensitive flesh.
Theorin started moving slowly, in and out, fascinated by Azel’s reaction. The
boy gulped and gasped, his face clenching in pain and then slacking into
pleasure. The outer flesh of his anus dragged as Theorin pulled out a bit and
he growled trying to keep himself steady. If he let himself go he might make
Azel bleed, and he was pretty sure that would be one step too far.
Trying not to get himself too riled up, Theorin concentrated on kissing Azel,
dragging his lips across his throat and rubbing and pinching a nipple with his
free hand. Azel’s body quaked underneath him moments before he felt Azel’s rope
of hot cum splash his chest and his ass squeeze his cock. Theorin’s balls
tightened, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he rocked into Azel’s over
sensitive flesh, the boy’s body convulsing from where he was pinned by his
wrists and Theorin’s cock.
Azel felt Theorin’s cum like a balm. It filled him, slicking his insides and
soothing the friction irritated flesh. He was instantly limp underneath
Theorin, his eyes already hooded while the slave was still inside of him.
“Azel, are you okay?” whispered Theorin, his penis going soft as he gently
removed himself. He let go of Azel’s wrists, and winced at the angry red marks
that would be bruises tomorrow, but the boy didn’t moved. He looked sated, with
his hooded eyes and his body completely relaxed. He just stared up at Theorin
with his dark eyes.
“I’m fine Theorin, just tired.” His mouth curving into a soft smile while he
spoke.
When he went to move under the covers, he cried out in pain and curled in on
himself. A sharp ache had spiraled through his gut, no doubt a repercussion of
using no lube.
“Don’t curl, it will only make it worse,” Theorin was saying softly as he
untangled Azel’s limbs for him. “Lie on your stomach. That’s it.”
Theorin was right, the pain muted to an ache once he was on his stomach, and it
was practically gone once Theorin’s long fingered hands began to massage his
lower back. The hands explored his ass cheeks, gently massaging. “I’m just
going to check to make sure that you’re not bleeding.”
Azel muffled consent through the pillow he was resting his head on. Theorin
gently spread his cheeks, but didn’t explore and further, then returned to
massaging. Azel felt himself melt into the mattress and completely relax before
sleep took him.
***** XVIII *****
They woke before sunrise, limbs tangled together and bodies melded skin to
skin. Theorin moved first, half sitting up in bed, his fingers finding
themselves tangled through the long part of Azel’s hair as he waited for sleep
to clear from his mind.
 Azel’s face crunched up at being woken. The house was still dark and cold,
still very much asleep, and he did not want to get out of bed anytime soon.
“Why did you wake me up?” Azel groaned into his pillow, enjoying the little
scalp massage, but buried himself deeper under the covers.
“We’re going to the lake today, remember?”
Azel groaned again, but lifted himself up and out of bed. He winced and tried
not to limp on his way to the bathroom, hoping that Theorin wasn’t paying too
much attention and was still just as sleepy as he was. His luck ran short when
he came out of the bathroom.
“You’re really sore, aren’t you?” Theorin said from where he sat on the bed,
but Azel tried not to look at his face and instead concentrated on picking
something to wear.
“It’s not that bad.”
“You’re limping, Azel.”
Azel did look up then, expecting to see some disapproving expression on
Theorin’s face, and instead found worried violet eyes. His annoyance deflated,
“Theorin, I’m fine, really.” He said sincerely as he pulled on his jeans and a
sweater. “I’m a little sore, but we’re going to have a fun and relaxing day
today, okay?”
Theorin nodded but wasn’t put at ease with Azel’s words, guilt and worry
wrenching sideways in his body every time Azel flinched or took a misstep.
Theorin got dressed in some “public appropriate” clothes, which were a far cry
from his usual cotton lounge pants. The jeans were fitted and felt too
restricting and the shirt clung to his skin uncomfortably.
Azel’s dark eyes lit and smouldered as they studied him in the unfamiliar
clothing but he said nothing and opened the door to their room to go down for
breakfast. Theorin followed slowly behind him.
Reginald was the only one at the small table when they entered the kitchen. He
was swiping through documents on a tablet, a mug of coffee in his hand. He
didn’t look up from the screen when he heard the two walk in.
“Morning. There’s scrambled eggs and coffee if you’d like some,” he said,
motioning to a pan filled with eggs and the coffee maker, with his hand that
held the coffee mug.
“Thanks,” Azel said, taking the initiative to grab a plate for himself and
Theorin.
They sat down and ate in silence. Reginald got up before finishing his coffee,
“Remind one of the handlers to grab a collar for you, Theorin, before you
leave.”
Theorin dipped his head respectfully, “Yes, Master.”
A domestic came and retrieved them when the car was ready for them and they
piled into it. The handler who sat in the driver’s seat handed back a thin,
soft leather collar for Theorin.
Azel buckled it gently around Theorin’s neck, his fingers grazing at it’s edge,
feeling the difference between the warmth of Theorin’s skin and the buttery
texture of the leather. “I wish you didn’t have to wear this.”
Theorin brought his own hand up to touch the new collar. “It would be illegal
for me not to wear it on public property, although this one is very soft, I
don’t mind it.” He gave Azel a sincere smile. He was excited to see the lake
and study Azel outside of the breeding farm. It felt odd to Theorin, the
feeling of looking forward to doing something. He wasn’t bothered by the
collar, but the frown that remained on Azel’s face well into half the drive
said that the boy thought otherwise.
Azel hadn’t spoken another word until they reached the town and stepped out of
the vehicle. They thanked the handler who drove them, before Theorin stopped to
take everything in. Most of the buildings were covered in snow, much like the
barns and the house on the farm, but they were packed close together, like a
jumbled family under one blanket. People milled about, their coats done up and
their noses and cheeks rosy from the cold. A wave of nervous excitement blushed
through Theorin’s body. Everyone that milled around them looked content and
happy. Children in the distance were laughing, and fat snowflakes fell slowly
from a grey sky.
Azel’s hands were cold when they wrapped around the back of Theorin’s neck to
bring their faces closer together. “You spaced out a bit. You okay?”
Theorin smiled to reassure him, but couldn’t meet his worried gaze “I’m fine.
I’ve just never been in public very much, I guess I’m a little nervous.”
Azel nodded in understanding, his eyes wandering around them, like he was
looking for something, scanning the small crowd of people that surrounded them.
His nimble fingers unbuckled the collar from Theorin’s neck and as the leather
fell away, it was as if ice water dripped down Theorin’s spine. His posture
stiffened, his adrenaline spiked. The soft mellow tone that held the attention
of the public street now looked threatening and too quiet.
“Azel,” Theorin hissed in warning. An unmarked slave in a public place was
punishable as negligence and would have very serious consequences for both of
them.
“Theorin,” Azel countered in a playful tone, as he rolled the leather collar to
fit inside his fist. “No one saw, no one will know. Just relax with me, and be
yourself.” His last words were nearly pleading.
Theorin bristled, “You could get us in serious trouble. Master Reginald-”
“Haven’t you ever wanted to just be yourself, Theorin?”
Those words ricocheted through Theorin’s bones. He had no idea who he was, he
was just taught to be mindless and numb. Azel’s words ignited sparks of heat
and prickles of frozen terror that left him speechless.
Azel opened his palm and held out to collar to Theorin. “I’ve seen you be
yourself, and I like it, but if you don’t want to, just take the collar back.
We can spend the day as Master and slave, but I’d much rather spend my day with
you, the real you.”
Theorin’s eyes stared at the collar, his hands damp and clammy as he reached
for it. He had to take it, but he hesitated, his fingers halting in their
reach. His eyes searched the hopeful obsidian of Azel’s before he pulled his
hand back. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “Alright, I won’t wear it.”
Azel’s grin spread with glee, and he leapt at Theorin, closing his arms around
his neck and pulling his face down for a kiss.
 
*************
Azel was enamoured by the way Theorin was looking at the most mundane things
with interest. They held hands, and walked down the street stopping at shop
windows, Azel explaining anything that Theorin asked about and promising to
revisit some of the shops after their tour was over.
It was a short walk to the museum’s entrance, but their boots were already
covered in wet snow and Azel was holding onto Theorin’s arm to keep warm by the
time they made it to the entrance. Their cheeks and noses were rosy from the
cold and Azel had to pretend to find the glass door they were walking through
very interesting, to avoid staring at how the cold made Theorin’s purple eyes
blaze.
A women with a blonde bob and a dark blue museum uniform greeted them politely
at the desk, her eyes raking both of them up and down before stopping on
Theorin with a blush. It made Azel bristle.
“Two tickets for the underwater pod tour at nine, please.” Azel said a little
more sharply than he had intended.
The women gave him a bashful look, then proceeded to print their tickets with a
weak, “Alrighty”. When Azel had finished paying and they were instructed to go
to loading dock B-3, he made sure to weave his fingers with Theorin’s. Theorin
gave him a squeeze to draw Azel’s eyes to him as they reached the small line
that had already gathered on their assigned dock.
“There was no need to get jealous, Azel,” said Theorin, his voice lilting a bit
as he teased.
“I was not jealous,” Azel replied defensively, “I was just making it clear to
her that she was not allowed to ogle.”
Theorin raised his eyebrows, “She did ogled both of us, if I remember
correctly.”
Axel flushed and his mouth hardened into a thin line, but he chose not to
respond. Instead, he checked his watch and studied the crowd that had gathered
around them. They were mostly just families, from what he could tell, with a
few slaves mixed in. Most of the slaves looked like domestics, dressed in
plain, but fashionable clothing, with collars wrapped around their necks. Some
of them were holding hands with the children while others were holding their
master’s winter coats. Theorin’s hand tightened around Azel’s, drawing his
attention back to him. Theorin’s spine was rigid and he looked slightly
panicked, his other hand at his throat.
“What is it?” Azel said quietly, instantly worried but not about to cause a
scene.
Those violet eyes mets his after darting around the crowd, “I- I just feel very
uncomfortable without the collar.”
“It will be alright, just breathe. Remember how excited you were to see the
city today? You’re going to forget all about it once we’re in there, okay?”
Theorin nodded, taking a few deep breaths.
“Feel better yet?” Azel asked after Theorin’s posture relaxed.
“Yeah,” but his eyes started staring worriedly at the posters and pictures
surrounding them that advertised the underwater city. “But, I’m also terrified
that we’ll be going underwater.”
Azel squeezed his hand and softly laughed.
The doors finally opened and the crowd was ushered into the loading area. They
were separated into groups of eight, each group lining up at a corresponding
numbered railing. Azel lead Theorin to the railing numbered three, keeping his
toes behind the yellow line that was drawn on the floor six inches from a pool
of water. Theorin eyed the water suspiciously, his eyes widening as the pods
rose up from the depths of the lake. Water was pushed away to reveal a vehicle,
nearly completely made up of a slightly red tinted glass and round like a
sphere, with black metal attachments at the bottom that were installed onto a
sort of track. There were eight seats set towards the back of the pod, while
the front half had a transparent floor that rounded seamlessly into the glass
upper structure.
A buzzer when off and an attendant dressed in the same blue as the girl at the
front, walked over and punched in a code into the key pad that was flush with
the side of the pods. The doors opened with a pressurized hiss as the attendant
moved to each pod. “Please enter your designated pod, and have a wonderful
adventure.” Repeated a pleasant women’s voice over the intercom of the loading
dock.
Azel went to step into the pod, determined to get the front seat, when he was
held fast. Theorin hadn’t budged and they were still holding hands, preventing
Azel from entering the pod. Theorin looked pale, and his eyes were wide and
fearful when Azel turned around in confusion.
“It’s alright, Theorin. There’s nothing to be afraid of, it’s completely safe.”
Theorin didn’t look convinced. “It looks like a death trap”
“Is there a problem, sir?” asked the attendant politely.
Theorin blushed, embarrassed. Azel responded for him. “He’s just a little
scared.”
“First time diver.” The attendant assumed with a nod. “I’ll give you a few more
minutes to get loaded, I assure you the pod is completely safe. If at any point
you start to feel claustrophobic, just close your eyes and take deep breaths.
And please, enjoy the ride.”
Theorin’s eyes hadn’t gotten any smaller as the attendant walked away to help
the other passengers with their small children. Azel tugged gently on his hand
and gave him and encouraging smile.
“Come on, I know you can do it.”
Theorin hesitated, then took a step closer, his toes on the yellow line,
allowing Azel to step over the thin gap and enter the pod.
“You’re not going to make me spend the rest of the day by myself are you?”
“No…” Theorin managed to breath out as he took another step to the very edge of
the dock, then another. By the time he’d made it into the pod, his eyes were
closed and he was practically clinging to Azel. Azel guided him to his seat and
had him buckled in before he could open his eyes and bolt for the door. The
pod’s door shut with another hiss, and Theorin clamped both of his hands onto
Azel’s arm as the pod began to descend into the water. There were gurgling
noises, loud enough to be heard over the squeals of the children sitting behind
them. Then came the hissing of the pressurizing cabin, and Theorin’s grip had
not relented.
Azel reached over with his unoccupied arm and began massaging the base of
Theorin’s head, pulling him closer so his forehead was resting on Azel’s
shoulder and he was able to release all of the tension in his neck. His
breathing began to match Azel’s, and his grip loosened enough for Azel to feel
his fingers again, but he didn’t stop the rhythm of his stroking.
“Are you okay?”
Theorin nodded, his forehead still resting on Azel and his eyes still closed.
Azel chuckled softly, “If you don’t open your eyes you’re going to miss one of
the best parts.”
Theorin, despite how his hands were sweating and how the butterflies threatened
to burst from his stomach, opened his eyes just a sliver. Azel saw a small
flash of the brilliant purple, but then it was gone.
“All I saw was blue,” Theorin complained.
“You’re going to have to open your eyes for longer than that, Theorin.”
Theorin tried, staring at Azel’s coat before he could bring himself to look
back into the huge expanse of blue before him. He barely lifted his head, only
enough to turn it and rest it on its side supported by Azel’s shoulder. Azel’s
hand went from his neck, then grazed down his shoulder and arm, giving him a
rub for confidence against his forearm before pointing into the expanse of
blue.
“Don’t you see it?”
Theorin squinted, only able to make out rectangle shapes against the darker
blue backdrop. “What are those?”
“They’re called skyscrapers.” Piped a small voice from behind them. Both
Theorin and Azel turned in their seats to face a small child with blonde
ringlets framing her round face. “And my mum says that its okay to be scared
your first time underwater. I was scared too. I even cried, but you didn’t, so
you must be really brave.”
“That’s a very nice thing to say, Clara.” The blonde women beside her, who must
have been her mom judging by there likeness, told her before she turned her
gentle smile towards Azel and Theorin. “Sorry, about that. Her class just
started learning about the underwater ruins in school a couple of weeks ago,
and she’s a little obsessed with them at the moment.”
“That’s okay,” Azel responded with a smile. “What grade are you in, Clara?”
Clara smiled back at him, “Two— Oh, look! Look!” She squealed, jumping in her
seat.
Theorin and Azel turned back around. The structures before them were huge,
towering over their little pod as it sunk deeper and closer to the bottom of
the lake. The buildings were covered in a blue hue, the minimal sunlight that
streamed from above shining off of some of the remaining glass surfaces. Most
were half falling down, one of the larger ones leaning and swaybacked,
supported by a smaller building. The sheer magnitude of them was shocking to
both Azel and Theorin.
“It’s huge,” said Theorin, his mouth half open and eyes wide.
“I know.” replied Azel. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen these I forgot how
truly massive they are.”
The head lights on their pod flashed on, bathing the ruins in all directions
with an ethereal white light. They could see the two pods ahead of them land on
the bottom and proceed on tracks going into different directions into the
ruins. It only took a few minutes for their pod to hit the tracks with a harsh
click that made Theorin jump.
“Welcome to the Lost Lake City.” Projected a generic voice through the pod
through the unseen speakers. “You are now allowed to unbuckle your belts and
proceed to walk around the pod. Please remember, for your safety, no running or
jumping. Enjoy the tour!”
Theorin and Azel stayed sitting as the rest of the people in the pod unbuckled
and stood up to move around the pod.
“How are you now?” Azel asked Theorin.
“It’s not so bad now that we’re completely under the water.” He responded
without looking in Azel’s direction. His eyes were busy drinking in the sites
around him as the pod slowly moved into the city. He found it eery that the
road they were on and the design of the street lights and even some of the
buildings looked very similar to what they had on earth now, except everything
looked so old. The water had damaged a lot, most surfaces covered in rust and
grime, but Theorin could make out craters in the distance when the buildings
got smaller in some areas. Some of the ruins looked burned and demolished by
large unseen forces. “This looks like a war zone.” He said with a melancholy he
didn’t understand.
Azel couldn’t help but give Theorin and odd look after that comment, wondering
about what he had seen in his life to make him say something like that. He
filed a mental note to ask him about it on the way home. “They do have evidence
of earth being turned into a battlefield, but the reasons have been lost with
time. I’m going to go grab a closer look.” Azel, untangling himself from
Theorin’s hold, unbuckled himself and stood up taking a moment to stretch. He
bent down to unbuckle Theorin, but Theorin blocked him with his hand.
“I can do it myself.” He said. His hands proved him right as they unclipped the
buckle, though he made no move to stand.
Azel didn’t want to force him, knowing that getting him into the pod had been
enough of a challenge for Theorin and so many of his fears were still hidden to
Azel. He wondered if he would ever understand them all. “I’m just going to
check out the view from the transparent floor, you can join me if you wish.”
Theorin looked like he was considering, but when he eyed up the group of people
walking on it, the ancient asphalt under their feed moving slowly so it looked
like they were floating a couple feet above it, he gave a quick shake of his
head. “I’m alright sitting here.”
“Okay,” Azel said, giving Theorin’s shoulder a squeeze before he walked away.
Theorin’s apprehensions about the transparent floor were valid. He watched as
Azel’s first few steps were quite wobbly, and the blonde man had to look up
before he found his balance again. He watched Azel for a bit, studying him.
Long fingers, still resembling the near skeletal state he had been in, brushed
the wheat coloured hair out of his eyes so he could get a closer look at
something through the glass.
***** XIX *****
Azel was scanning the ruins. Some parts he remembered from taking the tour
years ago and other parts he had forgotten. Occasionally the pod would stop and
the generic voice would tell them about a certain part of the crumpled
buildings, but Azel really had no interest in Earth’s history. He glanced back
at Theorin every once in a while. The auburn haired man was still sitting in
the seat, entranced by what he saw in the three hundred and sixty degree view
around him, but made no move to be anymore involved.
Azel was about to make his was back to Theorin, when the bouncing locks of a
golden ringleted head approached Theorin. The little girl crawled up into the
seat next to him to whisper something in his ear. Azel watched as Theorin’s
reaction to her whispers was a slight blush and a shake of his head.
“How long has it been since you freed him?”
Azel breath froze in his lungs, as he spun around with wide eyes at the sound
of the voice.
“I’m sorry,” Clara’s mother said with an apologetic smile. “I didn’t mean to
startle you.”
“Oh, no, it’s quite alright,” Azel said, flustered and waiting for his heart to
stop hammering.
“I was just curious. He no longer wears a collar but he’s still quite attuned
to you. My guess is it’s only been a few months since you’ve been able to make
him a free citizen.”
“Ah…” Azel rubbed the back of his neck, stalling. He needed to lie, but what
was he supposed to say?
Clara’s mother saw his hesitancy, and she took a half a step back to give him
more breathing room, “You don’t have to tell me of course. For work, I deal
with many of the legal aspects of freeing slaves from their captivity, and I’m
always curious when I see a fresh one. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“No need to apologize,” said Azel, having recaptured his composer and trying to
find some way to change the subject without being too obvious. “I take it
you’re some sort of lawyer then?”
A wry smile grew on her face, “Of sorts. Look,” Her voice then lowered, her
hand placed a card discreetly into Azel’s. “If you ever need anything for him,
don’t hesitate to call this number.”
Azel caught on quick and slipped the card into his back pocket, raising his
eyebrow at the women but she had already turned her back with a small smile and
was walking across the pod to collect her daughter, who had somehow gotten
Theorin to stand up and line his toes up at the edge of the transparent floor.
“Clara! If he doesn’t want to go, it’s not nice to try to make him.” Her mother
scolded, in a gentle tone.
“But Ma! He’s so close!”
“I’m so sorry,” She said to Theorin as she signalled for her daughter to leave
him alone with a hand that said “shoo”. “Once she sets her mind on something,
she tries everything in her power to make it happen.”
Azel had had to weave around a couple people before he caught up with Clara’s
mother and when he got there the little girl pouted at him, “He just needs more
encouragement and I know he’ll be able to make it!”
“Clara.” her mother warned.
The child sighed, let go of Theorin’s hand and grabbed her mother’s.
Azel smiled back at her, “I’ll help him now don’t worry.”
Clara’s blonde eyebrows furrowed, as if she didn’t believe him. The little girl
even kept looking back at them with a worried expression as her mother walked
her to the other side of the pod, shooting them an apologetic look when she
noticed her daughter’s attention was still on them.
“If you stay there I think I’ll me able to make it.” said Theorin quietly to
Azel.
Azel stood only two steps from the edge of the solid floor. He gave Theorin an
encouraging nod, “Okay, take your time.”
Theorin eyed the floor with fear, but eventually took a step onto the clear
floor, his arms outstretched for Azel. Azel caught him and then held him until
he stopped trembling, which was a little awkward, Theorin being a little taller
and much more muscular than Azel. When his feet were finally steady underneath
him he looked down, watching the lines of and ancient paved road whip past with
large violet eyes. His hands gripping Azel’s shoulders until they hurt.
“Okay,” Azel said as he pushed him back towards the seats and the solid floor,
hoping Theorin would relinquish his hold on his shoulders. “I think that was
pretty good for today, don’t you?”
Theorin’s hands relaxed instantly when he reached the solid floor, and he
beamed at Azel, “It was.”
**************
They bid their goodbyes to Clara and her mother as they walked out into the
frigid afternoon huddling into their coats. The temperature had dropped and the
sky was a dreary blue; the sun setting early behind the empty mountains. Azel
picked a small little coffee shop for lunch, enjoying the way Theorin’s eyes
lit up at all of the little pastries lined up in rows behind the glass.
“Which one would you like?”
Theorin looked like he was struggling to choose, judging by the way he bit his
bottom lip and scanned the goods. Finally, he pointed at a blueberry scone,
“That one.”
They sat down with a sandwich and pastry each, a coffee for Azel, and
peppermint tea for Theorin. Theorin had tried Azel’s coffee, but after Azel was
done laughing at the face he made at the bitter taste, Theorin declared he
would never drink coffee again.
After they finished eating, they strolled down the snowy street with their
steaming drinks, arms linked and Azel stealing occasional kisses on Theorin’s
jaw line. They stopped in a few shops, but Azel got the sense that Theorin had
no idea what to do in them. He would follow Azel around, agitated and
uncomfortable, his face completely blank.
When they exited the second store, Azel gently grabbed Theorin by the arm of
his coat. “Are you okay? We don’t have to shop if you’re not into it, I can
call the driver to come get us early.”
Theorin had his brow furrowed, and he reached out and touched the buttons on
Azel’s coat while he searched for the right words. “I just… I think I’m a
little over whelmed, is all. It looked so interesting from outside, but inside
it feels very crowded with stuff…” Theorin’s eyes were down, and he shuffled
his feet in the snow.
“Do you want to try one more shop? I know how different this must be for you,
but I think you could enjoy it. Just give it another try.”
Theorin gave a small nod, still unsure, but the smile that grew on Azel’s face
as he grabbed Theorin’s hand and lead him into another store, was worth it.
This shop Theorin remembered passing on their walk to the museum. It had rich,
real life garlands that hung around the glass door, giving off the most amazing
smell. When they entered, a gentle bell rang, and a women’s voice from the back
told them to look around and she’d just be a minute.
Theorin went to follow Azel again as he moved through the store, but Azel gave
him a gentle push on his chest, surprising Theorin and making him come up
short.
“Go look by yourself, and if you see anything you like, let me know.”
Theorin gave a nervous, “O-okay,” and walked the opposite way that Azel went.
The feeling of not being close and attentive to anybody was so alien to Theorin
that he felt a little light headed. However, it soon passed as he took in the
store’s wares that were all around him. He recognized nothing. There were ton
of books where he read things like shaman, crystal bible, wiccan spells, but
nothing that he could vaguely understand. There were odd circles with a web on
the inside and tassels and faux feathers hanging from them, chimes with foreign
symbols and statues of intricate and frightening creatures. The desk was
cleared of any clutter and illuminated the sparkling trinkets that it held
inside the glass. Most of it looked like different coloured stones gently
inlaid with silver metal. Theorin’s eyes traveled over them, drawn in by how
natural they looked,despite being all polished and tucked inside their beds of
metal.
There was one that felt somehow comfortable to him, that whenever he tried to
look at the others, his eyes were drawn back to that one. The name was
unfamiliar to him, but it was written clearly on a small piece of paper next to
it.
“Obsidian?” he said to himself.
“Would you like to take a closer look at it?” said a voice from gently above
him.
Theorin jumped a bit, but the women’s question hadn’t really startled him, he
was just surprised that he hadn’t noticed her walk over.
“If I could , please,” he said so quietly he could barely hear himself and he
was glad that she understood so he wouldn’t have to say it again. She opened up
the back of the desk and pulled out the little box it was nestled in and placed
on the counter.
“It’s an obsidian pendant, known for it’s protection against negative energy,”
the old women told Theorin as he grazed his fingers over the shiny black
surface, “and for helping one find their true self.”
Theorin cocked his head a bit to the side. How was a black stone supposed to
help him do that? Before thinking too hard on it, he searched the store for
Azel. From behind a cluttered shelf he caught that dark gaze watching him,
their eyes locking. Azel’s eyes were truly obsidian, dark and bottomless, just
like the stone. He walked out from behind the shelves, sauntering over with a
cheshire grin growing as he neared.
“Found something you liked?” he said, a mischievous glint to his eye, identical
to the polished surface of the stone.
Theorin felt his lungs lose air, his stomach drop and his dick fill with blood.
He was only grateful now for his tight fitting jeans.
Azel wrapped his arms around Theorin’s waist as he looked around him to what
was sitting on the counter. “Oh, that’s pretty.” He studied the other stones
inside the case, then pointed to one, “May I see the small amethyst one there,
please?”
The lady bent down and pulled it out and set it next to the obsidian pendant.
The stone was more jagged than the other, and a bit rougher, but the deep
purple colour was unmistakable.
The old women smiled as the two studied the stones, “Amethyst is known to be
used as a calming and clarity stone. It helps with insomnia and anxiety, but I
personally love it because of the colour.” She said, her eyes flashing to
Theorin’s.
“We’ll take both please,” Azel said, removing his arms from around Theorin to
pay.
They walked out of the store, each with a box in hand.
“Our ride home is almost here, do you want to wear your pendant?” Azel asked as
he took his own out of the box and strung it around his throat, the purple and
silver glinting in the low winter light.
Theorin nodded and held out the box to Azel. Azel took the pendant out and
unclipped the back, pressing the front of his body flush with Theorin’s as he
wrapped his arms around the other man’s neck to attach the clasp. Theorin
enfolded his arms around Azel, not letting him pull away when he was done, and
buried his face into the side of his neck. He breathed in his smell, the scent
going straight to the heat in his lower belly, his arousal from earlier not
forgotten. Azel’s fingers twined through his hair making him groan, and Azel
placed a kiss on the crown of his head.
A vehicle pulled up beside them and parked, the tires creaking on the snow
packed street as it braked. Azel recognized the car as their ride home and open
the back door so they could both climb in.
They were hit with the warm air of the vehicle and Azel only had his coat off
his shoulders when Theorin’s lips crashed into his. Azel’s hand flailed against
the panel of the back of the center consul as he kissed Theorin back, finding
the switch to engage the privacy screen. It was a high quality one, black and
soundproof, and blocked the back seats from the front. Theorin was pretty sure
the driver was thankful it went up before he witnessed something he didn’t want
to.
Theorin’s fingers had already undone all of the buttons on Azel’s shirt and his
hands were all over Azel’s bare skin, kneading his stomach and back with his
long elegant fingers. Azel arched into his touch, gasping and shivering as
Theorin’s tongue and lips peppered a trail from Azel’s lips to his clavicle.
Azel grasped onto the back of Theorin’s shirt, his hands finding purchase in
the fabric as he shuddered. Theorin dragged his one hand lower as his lips
returned to Azel’s, skillfully undoing the button and zipper on the front of
Azel’s jeans, then dipping his hand lower to cup Azel’s cock and balls through
the thin fabric of his underwear.
“Whoa,” Azel said, but it came out garbled, muffled by the connection of their
lips. “Whoa,” Azel said again, pulling his face away from Theorin’s but not
stopping Theorin’s hand from stroking his engorged cock. “It’s only a twenty
minute car ride back to the farm.”
Theorin couldn’t help sprouting a wicked smile and gave Azel’s cock a little
squeeze, “I only need ten.”
Azel’s eye widened, his pupils dilated and his nostrils flared. Theorin put his
other hand on Azel’s chest and pushed so Azel’s back was leaning against the
inside of the door. He maneuvered Azel’s underwear around his cock, pulling out
his shaft and balls through the hole in the front, enjoying the weight of them
in his hand. He studied the veins that wrapped around Azel’s shaft under the
delicate skin and the curve of his flared head. He grazed his fingers along
it’s length, watching with delight as it twitched and stiffened.
Azel’s hands clutched at Theorin’s shoulders as Theorin lowered his himself
toward Azel’s crotch, his tongue teasingly lapping at the head of Azel’s cock.
He tasted like salt and skin.
“Fuck,” Azel gasped, his back arching.
Theorin smiled up at Azel, his fingers playing with he folds of his scrotum,
squeezing, pulling and cupping. Azel’s penis grew turgid and red, stiffening
enough that it curved towards his clenching stomach. His one arm was resting
across his eyes and Theorin’s stomach coiled in heat as he watched Azel’s mouth
form a silent “O”, when his fingers delved past his ballsack and gently
palpated his perineum. Both their breaths were fast, huffing.
Theorin’s eyes couldn’t look away from Azel’s face as he slipped his non-lubed
middle finger past Azel’s sphincter. He saw pain and pleasure battle Azel’s
features until his face went slack and his whole body shuddered at the
intrusion. Theorin didn’t let him recover, lowering himself to swallow Azel’s
cock, the flared head sliding easily down his trained throat until his lips
touched Azel’s pubes. Theorin strained to look back up at Azel’s face, his
throat relaxed so he could breath shallowly through his nose. Azel’s eyes were
hooded, his pupils blown so wide Theorin could barely see the difference
between the dark brown of his iris and the darker tint of his pupil. Theorin
swallowed, squeezing Azel’s cock with his throat muscles, then crooked his
finger right into Azel’s prostate.
The boy’s body shook an he came undone beneath Theorin with a cry, his body
spasming as his semen pumped down Theorin’s throat. Theorin met each spastic
thrust into his mouth with a jab at Azel’s gland, intensely satisfied by the
way Azel squirmed in his hold. When Azel’s body slumped, his muscles exhausted,
Theorin pulled his finger out of his ass and slurped as he let Azel’s soft cock
fall out of his mouth. He licked his finger clean, then lapped at any stray
saliva or cum on Azel’s skin before tucking him back into his underwear and
then doing his pants up for him.
Azel watched him silently, limp as a rag doll, his one eye closed and the other
only open a crack. “Shit, Theorin,” he whispered.
Theorin leaned over him and kissed him deeply, pushing his tongue past his lips
to stroke the planes of his mouth. Azel’s arms wrapped loosely around Theorin’s
neck as they kissed. Theorin quickly did up the buttons of Azel’s shirt for
him, knowing he wouldn’t have the dexterity to do them himself for a bit,
before he pulled Azel up onto his lap so he could still kiss him while sitting
normally in the car. Azel hummed a thank you into Theorin’s mouth, making him
smile and pull their lips apart.
“Did you just try to talk while I kissed you?” Theorin asked, his hands on
Azel’s hips, massaging under his shirt, needing to still touch a little bit of
skin.
Azel flushed, embarrassed. “Maybe,” he mumbled, his one hand resting on
Theorin’s shoulder while his other played with the chain of the obsidian
pendent. “But I didn’t want you to stop kissing me,” his voice was quiet and
then his face flushed an even deeper red.
Theorin kissed him on the nose, “You’re adorable, when your bashful.”
“I am not bashful,” he said louder with his eyes narrowed, but Theorin couldn’t
get past the blotchy red that still lined his cheek bones. Azel looked like a
spitting kitten, and Theorin laughed. And god, he hadn’t laughed like that in a
very long time.
***** XX *****
Their laughter filled the empty halls as they handed their coats to a domestic
that opened the door for them. She smiled at them warmly as they stomped the
snow off their boots, and told them that Reginald was away at a business
meeting for the evening and that he had left no instructions for supper, but
she would cook them up something later if they liked.
“No, it’s alright, I can make us something if we get hungry,” Azel said. They
were still full from their snacks at the coffee shop, and he was planning on
repaying Theorin for the fun they had on the ride home.
With a wicked grin that he couldn’t keep off his face, Azel grabbed Theorin’s
hand, their fingers lacing together, and gently pulled him down the hall
towards the guest bedroom where he slept. Theorin’s smile was still there, and
his violet eyes sparkled with curiosity.
He knows I’m up to something, Azel thought, as he led Theorin into the bedroom.
Azel pushed Theorin at the bed while he swung the door closed with his foot.
Theorin sat himself down on the bed, facing Azel. They smiled at each other
like idiots for a few seconds, before Azel decided to pounce. He landed on the
bed with his knees on either side of Theorin’s hips, his hands pushing on
Theorin’s shoulders so the taller man fell back onto the comforter with a
woomph.
Azel settled his weight onto of Theorin, touching from crotch to nose.
Theorin’s hands grabbed the back of Azel’s thighs, pulling him farther up his
body so so he could press their lips together without having to strain to
reach. Their lips brushed, and the occasional tongued peaked out and grazed
teeth.
Theorin’s hands rubbed lazy circles from Azel’s thighs to his buttocks,
squeezing occasionally. Azel squirmed on top of him, the feeling of their
bulges in their jeans rubbing together engendering a soft moan from the smaller
male. Theorin’s kisses strayed from lips, to jaw, to neck, his teeth teasing
and pinching at the sensitive skin.
Azel sat up, pulling away from Theorin’s attentive mouth. Theorin growled, his
hands clasped hard on Azel’s hips so he couldn’t move any farther away. Azel
remained sitting on Theorin, his lips forming a pout.
“You ruined my plan.”
Theorin’s eyebrow arched, “And how exactly did I manage that?”
Azel grabbed the hem of Theorin’s shirt and pushed it up so his hands could
teasingly drag across Theorin’s scar ridden skin. “I was planning on coming in
here and having my way with you,” he bent back down so his lips could brush
against the shell of Theorin’s ear, “But your smell, the heat of your body…” He
pressed a kiss just in front of Theorin’s ear. “All I want is for you to fuck
me.”
Azel was quite perturbed when this made Theorin laugh, and he rolled off of
Theorin, flopping onto his back and sinking into the plush comforter. “Why is
that so funny?”
“It’s not funny,” Theorin said as he sat up and turned to hover over Azel, his
body blocking the light as he took his shirt off the rest of the way. “I just
can’t help but laugh. Us, right now, is the exact opposite of how I’ve lived. I
never dreamed I would ever be this happy.”
“Oh,” Azel breathed out. It was the only thing he could get passed his lips and
his ribcage fluttered waiting for Theorin to continue.
Theorin took off the jeans, pulling comically at the stuck fabric around his
calves, before kicking them across the bed and onto the floor. He looked at
Azel with a wild expression and an open mouth grin before grabbing him by the
waistband of his pants, engendering a squeal from the smaller man, and dragging
him close enough that their lips could meet.
It was a brief kiss, barely a touch, and Azel felt it all the way down to his
toes and back up to his groin.
“You’re my favourite,” Azel said, surprised at how normal his voice sounded
when his lungs and heart were flapping like caged birds
“I know.”
The breath from Theorin’s responding words brushed over Azel’s face, a
penultimate moment of intimacy without touching. Azel basked as he lay there,
content to close his eyes and feel Theorin’s presence beside him.
“Are you tired?” Theorin asked softly as his arms wrapped around Azel’s torso,
hands slipping under his shirt to find smooth skin.
“No,” Azel opened his eyes, “But I could lay here forever with you.”
Theorin snorted, his smile turning his violet eyes into glimmering half moons,
and he moulded his lips with Azel’s.
Their kiss was slow, and their breaths mingled as they wrapped each other in
their corresponding arms and legs. Eventually they lay in a heap on the bed, a
tangle of limbs and the comforter, both completely naked. Their erections
caught teasing friction against bare skin.
Theorin’s hands had palpated their way down to Azel’s ass, and he teased Azel’s
puckering hole with the soft pad of his middle finger. Azel hissed at the
contact and Theorin’s body instantly went rigid.
“What? Don’t stop,” mewled Azel as he rubbed the head of his glistening cock
against Theorin’s rippled stomach.
Theorin pulled completely away from him, sat up and looked down at him with
guilt in his eyes, “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. Azel barely caught the words
through his lust filled haze.
Azel was momentarily put out. He was riled up and wanted to be filled, feel
that burning, pleasurable stretch in his ass. However; he slowly sat up taking
in Theorin’s expression.
“You don’t have to apologize. I’m fine—“
“You have no idea what it will feel like,” Theorin interrupted, his voice
pleading. “It still stings a bit when you walk, I know because I’ve watched you
all day, and because I’ve had my hole fucked raw before. If I penetrated you,
you wouldn’t just feel it tonight, but probably for weeks. You’d bleed, on and
off, depending on what you ate. You’d get gut aches so horrible, you have to
lie down and curl into a ball so you won’t cry—“
“Holy shit, Theorin, stop!” Azel sputtered, his hands coming to Theorin’s face
to pull his head to his chest. He held him there, Theorin’s head next to his
heart, for a few silent seconds. “Please never talk about that ever again…”
Azel said, his voice a whisper. The images that had flashed through his mind
were horrible, putting Theorin in place as himself, and he tried desperately
not to think of them again. What Theorin must have gone through in his life
would have killed anybody else.
Theorin played with the chain at Azel’s collarbone, “I think you should fuck
me.”
Azel held his breath. Did he just here Theorin correctly? He gently pushed him
an arms length distance away so he could look at his face. “You want me to top
you?”
Theorin gave a nonchalant shrug, “Only if you want to,” then a sly grin whipped
across his face. “I have a feeling you might enjoy yourself.”
Azel was speechless and didn’t say a word as Theorin got up from the bed and
headed into the bathroom, coming back with a bottle of lubricant. He tossed it
gently so it landed nicely in the comforter right in front of Azel.
“Do you want to learn how to stretch someone or do you want to watch me play
with myself?”
Theorin crawled back onto the bed, as Azel slowly sat up, his pupils blown
wide.
“C-can I prepare you?”
Theorin gave a deep chuckle and settled on his stomach, grabbing a pillow to
put under his hips. “Go ahead.”
Azel moved himself in between Theorin’s legs, his hands roaming the soft skin
of Theorin’s bare ass. He placed a kiss in the hollow of Theorin’s back, his
groin heating as Theorin groaned and wriggled under his touch.
“You can start when your ready, I’ll let you know if you’re moving too fast.”
“Okay,” Azel responded breathlessly, gently pulling Theorin’s butt cheeks
apart, exposing his rosy coloured hole. It clenched at the chill of being
exposed, Theorin’s hips grinding a little into the pillow beneath him. Azel
closed his eyes and took a deep breath, equally nervous and excited. His cock
was standing up at attention, small beads of pre-cum weeping from the tip.
The bottle lid cracked open with a little pressure from Azel’s fingers, and he
squeezed some into his hand, taking care to coat his index and middle finger.
He tentatively touched Theorin’s tight ring of muscle with a lubed finger, and
Theorin moaned and wiggled his hips back, clenching and relaxing. Encouraged by
Theorin’s eagerness, Azel gently nudge his index finger inside to the first
knuckle.
“More,” Theorin said, lifting his hips so Azel finger was practically sucked
into Theorin’s body to the second knuckle. Theorin’s flesh was like a hot vice
around Azel’s finger, and it went straight to his cock, making it twitch in the
open air.
He slid his finger in and out, pressing into Theorin’s inner walls, gently
stretching, exploring, his other hand stroking Theorin’s thigh. He was amazed
at the feeling, how Theorin’s insides gripped and slid against his finger as it
went in and out. Azel felt hyperaware of Theorin’s breathing, every hitch and
gasp he wanted to catch and commit to memory. He added a bit more lube, then
pressed a second finger into him and pushed in as far as he could.
Theorin was practically purring beneath him, rubbing against the pillows and
the comforter like a cat in heat, and every once in a while his hips jerked.
Azel continued playing, scissoring his two fingers open like he had felt
Theorin do to him. He felt Theorin’s body relax against him and he pushed his
two fingers up into the top of Theorin’s insides. His fingers hooked on
something solid inside and Theorin lifted his hips with Azel’s movement.
“That would be my tail bone,” Theorin said, his voice a paradox of gravely and
breathy.
“Oh.”
Azel was fascinated. Theorin’s flesh stretched and clenched against his
movements, the pucker of his anus having loosened enough that he could insert a
third finger. Still curious, Azel palpated Theorin’s inner flesh, then pushed
down on the opposite wall from where he’d felt his tailbone.
It was like a lighting bolt had hit Theorin. His whole body twitched and seized
with a grunt, and Azel immediately released the pressure and withdrew his
fingers from Theorin’s body, horrified.
“Theorin?! I am so sorry, are you okay?” He fluttered his hands around
Theorin’s twitching , groaning, form, afraid to touch him. “I should have been
more gentle…I-I…”
Theorin, still panting, twisted around and touched Azel’s knee with his hand,
calming him. “It’s okay, Azel. You just hit my prostate and took me by
surprise.”
Azel flushed, embarrassed. “I-I’m sorry.”
Theorin flashed him a smile as he got his breath back. “It’s okay, you can
continue if you want, but I’m plenty stretched now.”
Azel’s face flushed and he couldn’t meet Theorin’s eyes.
“What is it?” Theorin asked sitting up. “Hitting my prostate like that didn’t
scare you that much, did it?”
“N-no… I-I…” Azel’s face flushed darker, his cheeks a flaming red.
Theorin just raised his eyebrow and watched, amused, as Azel internally
searched for the right words.
Finally, Azel took a breath, still unable to look at Theorin. “Have you ever
been fisted?” His voice quiet and soft.
“Yes,” breathed Theorin, curious as to where this was going, but he now had a
suspicion.
“Did you like it?” This question was just as quiet as Azel’s last.
Theorin smiled again, he couldn’t help it. “Yes.”
He watched as Azel’s eyes traveled to his face and then away again; nervous.
Theorin waited, but Azel never asked, just sat there, his cock hard and his
body a quivering mess, as if he was the one who just got thoroughly fingered.
“Would you like to fist me, Azel?”
Azel’s eyes shot to Theorin’s, pupil’s blown wide, then away again, back to
anything else in the room but Theorin.
“…Will it hurt you?”
Theorin leaned in and kissed Azel. “It’s been awhile since the last time, but
it wont hurt if you go slow,” he said against Azel’s lips.
The blonde boy shuddered then surged forward to kiss Theorin fiercely back.
When they pulled apart, Theorin stroked his hand down Azel’s chest, then turned
to get comfortable on his stomach.
“Lot’s of lube, yah.” Theorin reminded, the odd borough returning to the rhythm
of his voice. He didn’t know why he talked like that sometimes, but so far it
was only in Azel’s presence.
Azel moaned his ‘yes’ as he coated his entire hands in lube. He started again
by dragging his fingers through the hot cleft of Theorin’s ass, feeling how his
ring of muscled puckered slightly outwards from the earlier stretching.
“You can go ahead and start with three fingers, just a bit more stretching and
then add the fourth,” Theorin instructed.
Azel easily pushed three fingers into Theorin, tugging gently on his anus a few
times before adding a fourth.Theorin bucked, but made no sound, so Azel
continued the in and out motion with his right hand, his left hand rubbing
soothing circle’s into Theorin’s lower back, like had done for him the night
before.
“Start pushing your knuckles into me until you meet resistance, then just go in
and out gently with your hand like this,” Theorin, said, holding his hand up
with his thumb pressed to the pads of his other four fingers in a cone shape.
“Eventually, my muscle will give, and you’ll just slip right in.”
Azel’s hips twitched just thinking about it, and he did as Theorin said,
pushing a little farther in with each gentle thrust. Theorin’s face was buried
in the comforter, panting as Azel slowly worked him open.
It took a little longer than Theorin thought it would, but Azel had been gentle
and slow. As his knuckles breached his flesh and his whole fist slid inside, a
guttural moan released itself from Theorin’s throat, while Azel’s eloquent
“Fuck,” sounded behind him simultaneously. The stretch Theorin felt from Azel’s
hand rolled waves of heat up his body, and he could feel his heartbeat in his
rectum as the irritated flesh was stretched. His cock leaked pre-cum from the
pressure on his prostate, but he staved off ejaculation, tilting his head back
to take a look at Azel.
The boy knelt behind him, one hand inside Theorin’s ass, the other supporting
his weight on the mattress. He looked fevered, his black eyes glassy and his
skin flushed. His cock twitched, his balls drawn up tight.
Theorin gasped back into the blankets as he clenched his pelvic muscles and
rolled his hips on Azel’s hand drawing him deeper inside. He needed him to move
his hand, push it or pull it out. Anything to relieve the pressure.
Unpredicted ropes of cum hit the back of Theorin’s thighs, and he turned his
head again and watched as Azel lost it with a strangled cry, the arm that
supported him on the mattress shaking, his skin quivering.
Theorin’s tight hot flesh incasing his right hand made Azel completely lose it.
He could feel against his fingers the flutter of flesh and the slick movement
of Theorin’s insides. The auburn hair man’s tight anal sphincter clutching at
the skin around his wrist had driven him completely off the edge. Everything
was so tight inside and so hot, almost burning, Azel couldn’t hold it at bay.
He panted harder than Theorin.
“Move in… and out,” breathed Theorin in a raspy voice, tilting his hips again.
Azel barely heard him but pulled out until his knuckles stretched his tight
ring then pushed back in.
Theorin grunted and groaned, his hips shuddering in a series of shallow thrusts
as his balls tightened and his body cut loose, cumming at the movement. It
surprised him, to say the least. Normally he could have taken much more before
he reached his peak but his body wasn’t having any of it. His breath was ragged
and short, trying desperately to draw in more oxygen after his vision had
blackened at the edges. His skin felt lit, with energy or fire it was hard to
tell, but Azel’s kisses on his lower back were like molten metal, burning him
to the bone.
He turned his head back to Azel, resting it at and angle and lowering his chest
to the bed, “…Azel,” he cried in a weak whimper as the kid completely withdrew
his hand from his body. The cool air slipped into his open body cavity and an
empty ache spread through his lower abdomen as his muscles cramped, trying to
return to their original form.
“Are you okay, Theorin?” Azel’s words came through, his warm hand rubbing those
hypnotic circles on Theorin’s lower back..
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, surprised at his breathlessness.
Azel’s face was close, lips touching Theorin’s shoulder tenderly. Theorin
shifted so their lips would touch, and drew Azel in for a kiss.
The boy pulled away after a minute, “I think we should head into the shower.”
Theorin wanted to laugh at him but he didn’t have the energy. They hadn’t
properly prepared for any sort of extra anal play and it didn’t look like Azel
was really all that thrilled by the streaks on his one hand.
The two managed to hold each other up, Theorin cranking the water to hot as
they stepped inside the shower and under the spray. Azel immediately went for
the soap, cleaning his hand thoroughly before helping Theorin with his hair and
back.
Once they were dressed, Azel in a warm sweater and Theorin in his familiar
cottons, they scampered down to the kitchen, flirting and stealing kisses.
Theorin’s whole body felt light, and Azel felt truly hungry.
End Notes
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