A runaway slave finds roadside inns and taverns perfect places to hide from his old master. That is, until the next stop has already heard of him.
Hoarding Behavior Masterpost
Ongoing
A village in the mountains risks angering its neighbor, a dragon. Unfortunately for a certain human, he's been chosen to be the peace offering. Hopefully the beast isn't hungry.
Juno Collection Masterpost
Ongoing
An ongoing collection of one shots featuring Juno, a shameless self insert (because cringe is dead and I have killed it).
Note: These one shots are not connected unless stated otherwise
Moonflower Masterpost
Ongoing
A stolen fae is forced into slavery. Tortured into giving up his true name, he doesn't feel much of anything anymore. Until he's given to Queen Iris, who wants to make a deal.
Old Friends Masterpost (FINISHED)
Finished, five parts
While captured by a notorious supervillain, Theo meets an old friend; one he thought was in prison.
Note: This was supposed to be a oneshot, but has expanded.
Second-Hand Goods Masterpost (FINISHED)
Finished, seven parts
Emmett is the newest victim of a local serial killer. Or at least, he would be if the murderer hadn't gotten bored halfway through. But apparently someone is still interested in him.
Silas and Wren Masterpost
First version discontinued, Rewrite Ongoing
A lonely vampire decides to venture into the mortal markets to purchase a slave. He's sick of having no one to talk to, and maybe some company will make him feel better. It's just a bonus if they taste good, too.
Warnings: death mentions, human trafficking, creepy whumper
Allen flipped the business card over and over in his hands. He watched his latest victim drip blood on the floor from the chair he was taped to.
“If you ever get bored of your playthings,” his mentor had said, “give this guy a call. He’ll buy them off you. They better be alive, though.”
Allen had been torturing his latest catch for a month, but he was getting tired of this one. There were only so many ways to scream, and his shrill voice was grating on his nerves. His begging was getting repetitive too.
Ordinarily he would just kill him and bury the body, but he was running out of space and disposing of evidence still made him nervous.
His catch whined behind the gag, his fingers twitching. He pulled against the duct tape, as if rubbing his wrists raw would have a different result than the last hundred times.
He sighed and stood up from his makeshift chair.
“Calm down,” he muttered. His catch flinched. He probably hadn’t realized Allen was still there.
He looked down at the card.
It was blank, except for a phone number scrawled in an elegant hand and a code word on the other side.
Allen left the warehouse and bought a burner from the nearest store in cash. He dialed the number.
“Hello?”
“Hi, I uh, got this number from a friend of mine. I think I have something you might be interested in?”
The voice sighed. “Passcode?”
“Um. Kerosene?”
“Alright. Text me the address and I’ll see you there in a few hours.”
Well, that was easy.
He parked the car in his usual spot, and headed back to the warehouse. His victim was still there, of course.
“Today’s your lucky day,” he said. “I’ve got someone to take you off my hands.” The man whimpered, and Allen was pretty sure he was crying under the blindfold.
“Don’t worry,” he told him, “He wants you alive for some reason, so I doubt he’ll kill you right away.” The man began to sob, and Allen grinned.
He sat back down on his orange crate and waited for his contact to arrive.
___________________
Emmett twisted in his restraints but it was no good. The tape wasn’t going to give, and the sticky chemicals burned and stung.
Everything hurt so much. The burns had long since cooled, but they itched and tingled. His jaw ached from the knot of cloth in his mouth and the tape over his lips was infuriating. It was hard to breathe through his tears, but it seemed that was how his kidnapper wanted him.
Blood still dripped from his nose and from the slashes across his chest. No matter how much he begged and pleaded, his captor stopped on pure whims. He spent hours on the cattle prod, and Emmett was pretty sure his brain was fried by now.
“Calm down,” said a voice in his ear, and he jumped. Emmett thought he had left.
Footsteps echoed away from him, and Emmett slumped in relief. Finally, a break.
He hung his head and tried to doze. He hadn’t slept in so long, and he knew in his heart he would never see his bed again.
Rest didn’t come to him, because not long after he left, his captor had returned.
“Today’s your lucky day,” he said. “I’ve got someone to take you off my hands.”
Oh god, what did that mean?
“Don’t worry,” he went on, “He wants you alive for some reason, so I doubt he’ll kill you right away.”
Emmett couldn’t help but cry. He was so tired, part of him wanted to die just so it would be all over.
It must have been about an hour before he heard another person’s steps on the concrete.
“So how does this work?” asked his captor.
“I will inspect your product and offer a price, obviously,” said a second voice.
“And if I don’t like your offer?”
“Then I’ll go, and you’ll call again in a couple days and accept it because I’m the only one who does this sort of thing. Unless you really want to dispose of your toys yourself.” Emmett shivered.
“Okay, okay. Get it over with, then.”
Footsteps came closer to him. A finger brushed over his chest, light enough it almost tickled.
“Well?”
“Be patient,” said the stranger. He hummed in consideration. He suddenly grabbed Emmett’s chin, forcing his head up.
“Eye color?”
“Brown, but why does it matter?”
“It usually doesn’t,” said the man, tilting his head back and forth. “If the product has many small flaws, that can affect price. Eye color trends come and go, you know.”
“I don’t,” said his kidnapper. “I’m not exactly ‘plugged in’ to whatever your business is.”
The second man sighed. “If you want to get paid well, you should be.” He let his head fall.
Emmett’s heart leaped into his throat. What business?
The man tapped his temple. “Are you awake in there, my dear?” Emmett nodded.
“Excellent.” The hand ruffled his hair. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” Emmett nodded, but he wasn’t sure what he was agreeing to. Obeying for more pain, or obeying to avoid it?
The stranger’s second hand suddenly rubbed at his crotch, and Emmett jumped. The stranger chuckled. Thank god his captor had left his jeans on.
“I’ll give you fifteen hundred.”
“That’s it?”
“Well, you did use duct tape. It leaves a residue, and it’s incredibly annoying to scrub off. I knocked off two fifty for that.”
“Ya know what? Fine. Fifteen it is.”
There was some shuffling, and then Emmett felt a firm hand on his arm.
“Don’t move, my dear. I’m going to cut you free from this wretched tape. But you’re going to be good for me, and not fight. Understand?”
Emmett nodded, because what choice did he have?
He heard a serrated knife work its way through the tape under the arms of the chair. The pressure lessened, and he flexed his fingers for the blood flow. The man, his new captor, picked up his wrist and plopped it down into his lap before working on the other one. Finally, both wrists were free, but the man wrapped rope around them instead.
Emmett sat still and let the man do what he wanted. At least the rope was soft. The stranger tugged on the knot and seemed satisfied with it.
“Good boy,” he cooed, “Let’s get that gag off of you. I bet that tape feels awful. No screaming, now.”
Emmett tilted his head up to show how cooperative he was.
I can be good, he thought. Just don’t hurt me.
The stranger ripped the tape off in one go, and the pain was practically nothing compared to everything else. The man pulled the cloth slowly out of his mouth.
“Could you hurry up?” asked his would-be-killer, “What do you even want with him, anyway?”
“You can leave if you want,” said the man, his sweet voice cold again. “I’ve already paid you. And it’s none of your business anymore.”
There was a huff, and footsteps echoed away.
“Looks like Mr. Grumpy left us alone,” said his new kidnapper, in his nicer voice. He finished working the knot of fabric out of his mouth. “I bet that feels better.” He reached to Emmett’s jaw, firmly rubbing the soreness out of his muscles.
“You’ve been good so far, so I'll use a much nicer gag for you.”
“I’ll be quiet, Sir,” gambled Emmett, voice hoarse. “Please.”
The man hummed. “So polite,” he praised, “but no. Now close your mouth.” There was a clink of metal, and a soft panel of leather was pushed to his lips. A strap split around his ear, around the back of his head, and clipped to the other side. A second strap clipped at the back of his head and came over, branching around his nose and clipped to the panel. It wasn’t terribly uncomfortable, and at least his jaw wouldn’t be forced open. But the panel was snug and secured in a way he didn’t like. He felt more like a muzzled animal than before.
“See? Much better.” He hauled Emmett to his feet, and pushed him along the floor. Soon they made it outside, and Emmett relished the feeling of sun on him. He heard a click of a remote, and the signature sound of a car trunk unlatching.
The man slowly pushed him forward, and his knees hit the bumper of a car.
“Watch your head,” he said, guiding him to crawl into the trunk.
The basement didn’t have a clock, but Emmett knew it was early when he woke to the sounds of Master on the stairs.
The basement was still chilly, even with the space heater and bedding Master had given him. Emmett distantly wished Master had given him bedtime medicine, because he hadn’t slept well at all.
“Good morning, sweetie.” Emmett stopped himself from wrinkling his nose at the pet name. It wouldn't be received well.
Master was carrying something rolled up, a paper bag with the PetSmart logo, and a bowl with a spoon.
“Aren’t you going to say good morning?” Oops.
“Sorry Master. Good morning.” Master smiled at him, and put the bowl in front of him. Oatmeal; maple and brown sugar flavor. Emmett savored the hot food as he watched Master unroll the whatever-it-was onto the floor of one of the kennels.
A hint of discomfort tickled the back of his mind, but he dismissed it in favor of breakfast.
“I’m going to pick up a guest tomorrow,” said Master, “So we’ll need to get your uniform on.”
“Uniform?” He didn’t like the sound of that.
Master picked up the PetSmart bag. “It’s nothing to worry about. I had it custom made so it’ll be comfortable.”
Oh. Master hadn’t lied to him so far, how bad could it be?
Master pulled out a muzzle.
“Wha- why-”
“I was thinking,” Master interrupted. He crouched, patting Emmett on the cheek. The muzzle clanked in his hand. “You’re so sweet, and our guests can be so feisty. And you really want to come upstairs, right?”
“Uh huh.” He really didn’t see where Master was going with this.
“Well, they won’t be so troublesome if it looks like I’m making you help me out. So this handy little accessory will show them you’re friendly.”
That… made a little sense. He didn’t want to have to wrestle with a ‘guest’. He’d never been much of an athlete.
Master loosened the strap, pulling the wire frame over his head and onto his face. There was a padded barrier between the metal and his cheeks, and the actual shape and size still allowed him to open his mouth. It wasn’t so bad.
Master grinned at him, and Emmett didn’t like the look of it. But what choice did he have? He couldn’t stay in the cold basement forever.
Master reached into the bag again, and Emmett’s heart dropped. There was more? It was only a red collar with an engraved name tag, but still. He didn’t like all these surprises.
Once the collar was fastened, Master grabbed his chin and tilted his head this way and that. A tiny voice in his mind wondered if this was really to help with the guests, or if Master was just pleased to see him looking like a pathetic dog.
It didn’t matter what the tiny voice said. Emmett didn’t want to die. He’d take a thousand days in a muzzle over an hour with his torturer. And he’d wear a collar forever if he didn’t have to work two jobs just for rent.
There was one more thing in the bag. A leash.
Master clipped it to the ring on his collar, the metal jingling. The tips of his ears burned as Master unlocked the shackle around his ankle.
“It’s a little chilly down here, isn’t it?”
Emmett opened his mouth to respond, but Master put a finger to his lips. “Ah, ah, ah! No talking when you’re in your uniform. Understand?”
Emmett nodded.
“Since you’re doing so well, I think we can have an hour upstairs.” He tugged on the leash, and Emmett followed for half a moment before Master laughed and stopped.
“You can stand up, silly thing. I didn’t tell you to crawl.”
His face burned as he got to his feet.
Upstairs was much warmer, and Master had Netflix already running with the next episode of the nature documentary.
“Want a coke?”
Emmett nodded. He hadn’t had a soda in… how long had he been missing?
The coke was a fancy one, the glass bottle and made with real sugar. Master stuck a straw into it so he could drink through the muzzle.
One hour, and he’d be back downstairs.
He couldn’t wait for tomorrow.
___________________
Maybe he was overdoing it with the drugs. Emmett didn’t protest when he put his arm around his shoulder. Didn’t react when Ander put a hand on his thigh.
He’d slipped part of a dose into the oatmeal and the second half into the soda, but it was clearly too much for him. He was half asleep. Damn.
Ander didn’t feel like fucking him when he was so out of it. No fun at all.
He took Emmett downstairs, keeping an eye out for stumbling.
He ordered him to sit down, and even that seemed like a lot for him.
Ander snatched Emmett’s allotted pillow and blanket, tossing them into the kennel.
There, a cozy little cage for his favorite dog.
He grabbed Emmett by the back of the hair, like scruffing a cat. Emmett whimpered, and shit if that didn’t make him a little hard.
“C’mon sweetheart. In you go.”
Emmett crawled in with little resistance. Ander locked the door, and Emmett was already clutching his pillow, eyes unfocused and drowsy. Cute.
Warnings: drugging, human trafficking, manipulation, dehumanization, conditioning
Emmett woke up bleary-eyed with cotton in his head. The lackluster feeling must be the sedative that Master had given him.
But he didn’t care about the side effects. Sleep was sleep. Emmett uncurled himself. He shivered despite the space heater Master had flipped on last night. Maybe he could beg a shirt out of him. Rewards for good behavior, right?
He heard Master’s steps thud down the stairs. Emmett sat up, looking around.
The man in the cage was gone.
“Good morning,” said Master. He was carrying a bag and something small in his hand. He unlocked the door, and then locked it behind him. He came over to the prisoner closest to the stairs, a young woman about his age.
“Open,” he commanded and she obediently opened her mouth. Master put the end of the small thing in her mouth. After a second, it beeped, and Emmett realized it was a thermometer.
Master glanced at the result and pulled a sanitizer cloth and wiped it down. From the bag, he pulled out an apple, a granola bar, and a bottle of water. Emmett’s mouth watered.
He’d been fed the night before (plain chicken with mixed up rice and veggies), but his stomach had forgotten.
Master came to the second in line, and part of Emmett was furiously jealous he was last.
He was a little horrified at his gut reaction, but he soothed himself. It was only natural to be a bit out of his mind considering everything. It wasn’t his fault.
His neighbor spat out a ‘fuck you’, and Master sighed.
“I suppose you aren’t hungry then,” he said, moving along.
“Open.” Emmett let Master take his temperature, the taste of sanitizer bitter under his tongue.
“Good,” he said, putting down breakfast. Emmett lunged for it, but Master put down one more item. Chocolate: a Hershey’s kiss. Emmett looked up at him, and Master gave him a sly wink. A treat for good behavior. Emmett reached for the granola bar. He’d save the candy for last.
Master wiped down the thermometer again, and put the bag of food on top of a cage on the opposite side of the room.
He turned back to the middle of the line, and Emmett watched him approach.
But his neighbor still refused. Master’s hand was quick as a whip, and yanked him by the hair. He wrestled him for a moment, pulling him onto the floor and flipping him onto his stomach.
Emmett watched them struggle as he munched on his apple. Master jabbed the thermometer under the prisoner’s arm, holding him still enough to take the reading.
“All that,” huffed Master, “for a normal result. Was it worth it?” The man muttered something Emmett couldn’t hear.
Master rolled his eyes and got up off the man.
He only got the water bottle for causing so much trouble.
___________________
Emmett got the shirt he wanted the next morning with breakfast.
The man in the middle was gone.
___________________
Morning went differently the third day. Master stuck around after he parceled out the meal, watching him eat.
After he was done, Master took the waste as usual, but uncuffed him from the pole.
He took out a bag of Hershey kisses.
“Emmet,” he said. “Up.”
He stood up, and Master gave him a candy.
“Kneel.” He knelt, and earned another.
“Down,” he gestured, and he hesitated before guessing that Master meant on all fours. But instead of giving him the chocolate right away, Master unwrapped it and held it out in his hand.
Emmett flushed, but did as Master wanted. He ate it out of his palm.
Master was so pleased that he cuffed him by the ankle only with three whole feet of chain. He even brought down a pillow and blanket for him.
“You’re disgusting,” said the woman, the last of their little group left.
Emmett didn’t agree. “I’m just doing what I have to.”
“Are you? He doesn’t actually hurt any of us. You could refuse.”
Emmett opened his mouth to explain. Master wouldn’t hurt her, but that’s because she was going to be sold. It was different- Master was intent on keeping him. Emmett could be put into the line of fire at any moment.
But Master had said not to tell the others. So he kept quiet, and ran his tongue over the ridges of his teeth.
It still tasted like chocolate.
___________________
Ander smiled to himself as he listened in on the security monitors. Emmett was doing so well.
He hadn’t let anything slip, even when pushed. And he accepted Ander’s little lie about the police report with no issue.
So far, Emmett was polite and obedient just as he wanted.
But Ander needed to mold him further to make sure Emmett could be a more permanent acquisition. The whole ‘only doing it to survive’ wouldn’t be enough. If Emmett was to be an assistant, Ander needed the reassurance that he wouldn’t run the moment he was let upstairs.
He needed to reach into that little brain of his and cross a few wires.
___________________
The woman was gone when he woke up, but he wasn’t surprised. He was a bit nervous to be left alone with Master, though.
Instead of the usual routine, Master came down empty handed. The smell of bacon wafted down the steps.
“Would you like to come upstairs?”
“Really?” Master raised a brow.
“I mean, yes please, Master.” Master smiled at him. He cuffed Emmett’s ankles together with a foot of chain inbetween before uncuffing him from the pole.
He scooped Emmett up into his arms. He squeaked in surprise, and Master laughed, but it was good-natured.
Master carried him up the stairs and plopped him down on the couch. He handed him some silverware and a plate of bacon and pancakes with syrup and butter.
“I wasn't sure what you put on your pancakes,” said Master. “So I went classic.”
Master sat in an armchair across from him with his own pile of food.
“Thank you, Master.”
“Eh, you’re welcome,” he said with a shrug. “It’s pretty nice having you around.”
Master turned on the TV, flipping to Netflix. “Anything you want to see?”
Emmett thought it over. Best to play it safe. “Um, anything you want, Master.”
Master tutted. “I’m really asking,” he said. “Go ahead.”
“Oh. Um, Our Planet? It's got David Attenborough in it.”
___________________
It was a good day, if odd. It was the most relaxed he’d been in… years. Halfway through the first season, he’d realized that Master was kind of right.
Sure, he was heartbroken that no one had noticed he had gone missing, but it was… easier this way.
No roommates smoking up the apartment, no jobs to juggle, no bills.
Even if he somehow escaped, he’d be in mountains of debt by now.
___________________
Ander brought Emmett back downstairs that evening. He could sense his disappointment. Perfect.
The tiny amount of Valium he’d crushed up in Emmett’s pancakes worked like a charm, and he was sure Emmett was rationalizing his relaxation. Soon he’d associate Ander with calm and pleasantness.
“I’m sorry,” he told him. “I would let you have the spare bedroom, but…” he trailed off while securing him back in place. “I’m sure you understand.”
Emmett nodded, looking like a kicked puppy. Ander picked up the blanket and draped it over him, ruffling his hair. He headed back towards the stairs.
“Wait-”
He turned.
“Yes?”
“If- I mean- Could I earn it, Master? I promise I won’t run.”
“Oh Emmett,” he said. “That won’t work on me. I know what you’re doing,” he said. He crossed his arms in faux disappointment.
“No! I swear! I just… you’re right. About my old life,” he said. Ander had to keep himself from grinning.
“There’s nothing for me out there,” he continued. “I was so stressed. I don’t… I don’t want to go back.” He got a little weepy, and Ander was ecstatic. He must have been right on the money, this was great.
“Well,” he sighed, “I suppose I did say I’d reward you for good behavior. You do make a good case. We’ll see.”
Emmett sniffed. “Yeah?”
“Mhm. How about you help me out with the next few guests, and then we’ll talk about upstairs. Sounds good?”
“Yes, Master.”
Ander left, locking the gate behind him. He poured himself a celebratory drink.
Wires crossed indeed. Soon enough Emmett would do more than just eat out of the palm of his hand.
Ander pictured him nude, bent over his bed, adorable face screwed up in pleasure.
He raised his glass in a silent toast to his client from a few days ago.
Warnings: referring to someone as “broken”, dehumanization, conditioning, implied dub/non-con, “stockholm syndrome”
Ander was pleasantly surprised that Emmett had broken so easily. Was it the withdrawal that finally did him in, or the isolation? Or maybe the client he bought his pet from had done more damage than he thought and jumpstarted the process?
Ultimately, it didn’t matter. Emmett was cute and compliant, and that was all Ander needed.
He moved Emmett's kennel to his room, just in case he needed to punish him a bit, but it only collected dust.
He even acquiesced on some privileges; Emmett had a hoodie to go along with his boxers (adorable), and had full range of the house. Of course, he’d be locked in his room when Ander went to pick up some product, but Emmett didn’t seem to mind.
He didn’t seem to mind much of anything anymore, too eager to please to object.
Just how Ander wanted him.
___________________
Emmett was on the couch, engrossed in his book, when he heard the back door open and close. Odd. Master would have told him if he was going out; he needed to be locked in his room. Master wouldn’t just leave.
What if someone had broken in?
He got up to go look for him.
The basement door was locked, so he wasn’t downstairs. He dared to peek into Master’s bedroom, but it was empty. So was the kitchen, the bathrooms, and of course he wasn’t in the living room.
Emmett was home alone.
He bit his lip. What to do? Master had even forgotten to lock the front door. It was a nice day out, and the door was ajar to let the light through the glass of the storm door.
Hesitantly, he closed the door and slid the deadbolt into place. He drew the blinds closed, and curled back up on the couch. He went back to his book, and waited for Master to come home.
___________________
Ander was on his way home when he realized he’d forgotten to secure Emmett. Panic slammed into him like a train; he was two hours away with no idea what he was up to.
His house was pretty distant from the rest of town, but there was ample time for Emmett to slip out, alert the police, and have the whole state looking for his car.
Shit. Shit shit shit.
He eyed the speedometer. He was already seven over the speed limit, and there was no way he could risk getting pulled over with a bag of sedatives in the passenger seat and a product in his trunk.
He turned the radio to the news and clutched the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. He flipped on cruise control and waited to hear his name on the broadcast.
___________________
Ander pulled into the driveway, vibrating with anxiety. He glanced around, but could see no hastily hidden cops.
He sprinted up to the house, fumbling his keys and cursing. He finally got the lock, slamming the door open.
“Emmett!? Emmett!?” He ran through the house, nearly colliding with him. Emmett flinched away, dropping to his knees and looking up at him.
“Master, what’s wrong?”
Ander was still shaking, and he took in deep breaths trying to calm down. His heart was beating so fast.
He pulled himself together. “Nothing, I just.. It’s nothing.” He ran his hand through his hair.
Calm down, he told himself. Nothing happened. Everything’s fine.
Emmett was still waiting on the floor, and he looked shaken. Ander glanced down at him.
“Go wait for me in your room.”
“Yes, Master.” Emmett got up and obeyed, and Ander watched him disappear down the hall.
He turned to go back to the car and unload.
As he hefted the new stock downstairs, Ander thanked himself and god (in that order) that Emmett didn’t try to escape. But then a thought struck him.
He hastily cuffed the woman to a pole and pulled out his phone. He checked the security alerts. There was one notification.
Had Emmett left and come back?
He chewed the inside of his cheek as he rewound the footage. The cameras caught Emmett wandering, checking the house. Making sure he was gone. Dammit.
But then Emmett paused at the front door, fiddling with the hem of his gray hoodie.
Don’t do it, he thought, Please tell me you didn’t.
Footage-Emmett closed the front door, locked it, and picked up his book again.
Ander felt the weight on his shoulders disappear. Escape was right in front of him, and Emmett hadn’t taken it.
Such a good boy deserved a reward, and Ander needed some stress relief.
___________________
Emmett snuggled into Master’s chest, his arms wrapped around his waist and back. He wasn’t in trouble after all; he’d done well to wait for Master right where he left him.
His reward was some sex (this time he got a blowjob before getting fucked) and takeout that he got to pick (!).
As he dozed off, his only thought was that he’d made the right choice.
He belonged here. He was better than all those guests, all those things that came and went from the house. He was special and good, and Master loved him.
Warnings: human trafficking, oral dub/non-con, manipulation
Emmett woke up with a headache. He yawned, but didn’t get very far.
Right, the muzzle.
The first thing he noticed was how hungry he was. Did he even eat last night?
Last night… last night was fuzzy. He must have fallen asleep.
He stretched, but again didn’t get very far. He shivered; he was cold again.
Emmett opened his eyes to see metal bars. He rolled over.
He was in one of the kennels, and lying on the floor across the room was a ‘guest’, still asleep. Master must have given him medicine.
“Good morning, my dear.”
Emmett whipped his head around to see Master leaning against the wall. He came over and crouched in front of him.
“Here’s how this is gonna go.” His voice was firm, and Emmett knew there was no room to fuck up.
“In about an hour, our friend over there will wake up.” He nodded towards the man on the floor.
“I’ll give you the usual routine, and then you’ll take care of our guest. No talking. Got it?”
Emmett nodded. It seemed easy enough.
Upstairs was in his future, he could feel it. Maybe Master would even let him decorate the spare bedroom.
___________________
Sure enough, after an hour the man was stirring. Emmett watched through the bars as he twitched and shifted.
Abruptly, the man sat up. His wild eyes fixed in on him. Emmett shrank away, even though the bars protected him.
“Where the fuck am I?” he said, his voice shaking. “Who are you?”
Emmett shook his head. Even if was allowed to speak, he didn’t know where Master lived. Not even the state.
The man tried to get up, but he was tethered to the floor with a handcuff around one of his wrists.
“Oh my god,” he sniffed, “I’m going to die here.”
Emmett couldn’t speak, but he could at least answer that. He rapped on the bars with a fist. The man looked up. Emmett shook his head.
“I… I’m not?”
Emmett nodded. The man sagged in relief.
“Thanks.”
He heard the door at the top of the stairs open. He turned towards the door. It was a pretty roomy cage, all things considered, but he wasn’t exactly happy staying in it.
Master’s keys rattled as he opened the big gate. He slammed it behind him, locking it again. Was he angry, or just putting on a show?
“Please let me go,” begged the man, “I’ll do whatever you want!”
Master unfastened the muzzle, and let him stretch out his jaw before taking his temperature.
Breakfast was once again an apple, granola bar, and a bottle of water. Emmett thought of the pancakes as he ate. He was so close, he could nearly taste them. Maybe he’d be allowed to make french toast once this was over.
Master slipped on his muzzle when he was finished.
“Be. Good,” he muttered into his ear.
Master wiped off the thermometer and handed it and the bag of food to him. Emmett stood, walking over to the man.
He showed the man the thermometer, and he accepted it easily. It beeped, and his temperature was normal.
Emmett handed out the food, and turned to see if Master was pleased.
But Master wasn’t watching, typing furiously on his phone. It rang, and he cursed.
Master stalked towards him, grabbing his arm and dragging him back to the kennel. He shoved Emmett in, and the doorbell sounded upstairs.
“Not a word,” he hissed, “Either of you.” He shot a glare towards the newcomer, who nodded.
Master ran upstairs, two at a time.
After a moment of distant talking, he heard two sets of footsteps on the stairs.
“So what have you got for me?” said a new voice, a man.
“I only have the one,” said Master, irritated. “Just got it in this morning.”
They came into view, and Emmett immediately hated the man. His smile made his teeth chatter.
“Just one? You told me to come today.”
“I said call next week, idiot.” Master rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe you got my address. It’s unprofessional, Jake.”
Jake examined the new guest, his eyes roaming over him. The man whimpered.
“I don’t like it,” whined Jake.
Master shrugged, checking his phone. “Take him or wait a week. I have a pick up scheduled that you’ll love.”
“What about the one in the cage?” Emmett’s blood ran cold.
“Not for sale.”
“Five thousand.”
“No.”
“Seven thousand.”
“No.”
“Ten thousand.” Master looked up from his phone. He looked at Emmett, like he was considering it.
“Don’t!” he blurted. “Please don’t, Master, I-”
“Shut the fuck up!” snarled Master, his face suddenly twisting.
Oh god, he had disobeyed. He curled into the corner of his kennel. It was game over, he was going to be punished or killed.
“Like I said,” Master turned to Jake, “he’s not for sale. Now forget my address before you cause even more problems.”
“Jesus, fine! You’re a pain in the ass, Ander.” Jake threw up his hands.
Master escorted him upstairs, and Emmett began to tremble. He pulled the blanket around him, as if that would save him from Master’s wrath.
Ander. His name was Ander. Useless information. It wasn’t like he could ever tell anyone.
He locked eyes with the man across the room, and he looked almost as terrified as Emmett felt.
___________________
Master had been gone for several minutes, and with each passing second the lead ball of dread in his gut got heavier.
What if Master left him in the cage forever? If he just let him starve? Threw away the key and let him rot?
Or worse? Sell him off to suffer and die?
He shivered under the blanket.
Please don’t make me go back. Please.
He heard Master’s footfalls on the steps. They were quiet, and that was somehow scarier than if he stomped.
Master didn’t even look at him when he got downstairs. Instead, he went to the supply locker. He pulled out a foldable step stool and a long length of chain.
Emmett burrowed further into the covers. His heart was beating rabbit-fast.
Master got on the stool, looping the chain over a hook and pulley embedded in the steel beams of the ceiling. He grabbed a pair of shackles from the locker, securing them to the end of the chain.
He was in deep shit.
Finally, Master turned to him. His face was stern and cold, and Emmett wished he could turn back time and just keep his mouth shut.
Master unlocked the kennel, and Emmett resolved not to resist. If he was good, really good, maybe it would all go away.
Master hauled him out by the arm. His grip was bruisingly tight. He locked the cuffs around his wrists, weighing them down with cold steel.
Master started to pull the chain, forcing his arms up and up and up, until he was nearly on the tip of his toes. A deep ache settled into his shoulders.
Master took off the muzzle. He tossed it aside, and the sound of the metal on the concrete was shockingly loud compared to the held breath of silence earlier.
He was shorter than Master, and he felt every single inch of difference.
“I’m sor-” His head was suddenly in the other direction, his face stinging. Master gripped him by the chin, yanking him back.
“What the fuck was that?” Master hissed. “Are you stupid?” Emmett shook his head.
“N-”
“Shut up.” Master stepped away, rummaging through the supply locker.
“When I tell you something, I expect you to follow it.” His voice was cold, nothing like the sweetness he used yesterday morning. The anger in it was gone too, and the calm frightened him.
Master found what he was looking for, and Emmett had to bite his lip to keep silent when he saw it.
Seeing the crop in his hand, long and imposing, he hoped that Master wouldn't punish him for screaming. It would be a losing game.
“I’ve been really kind, Emmett. Haven’t I? Don’t speak.”
Emmett nodded. His shoulders protested.
“I could make a lot of money off of you,” he said, circling around to his back. “I still have texts from Jake, telling me to call if I ever change my mind.”
Emmett squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the blow. But instead a cool metal slipped under his shirt. The dull side of a blade ran up his spine, the fabric tearing.
“Thousands of dollars. An amount that could change some people’s lives. Do you understand that?”
He nodded. He knew, better than a lot of people. Ten thousand dollars would have changed his life.
The shirt fell away. Master’s hand ran up his back. Goosebumps broke out under his touch.
To his horror, Master reached around and undid the button of his pants, pulled the zipper, and tugged his pants clear off of him. He saw them get tossed to the side from the corner of his eye.
He didn’t get to keep his boxers either.
The first strike made him yelp, the fiery mark burning into the small of his back.
“I’m disappointed, my dear.”
The second was just as bad. And the third. And the fourth.
“I asked you for one simple thing.” The fifth lash crossed over another, and he shrieked.
“And you couldn’t do it. But I’m giving you a second chance.” Master came back around. “I don’t think you really deserve one, but I’m feeling generous. Don’t you think that’s generous? Speak.”
“Yes! So generous! Thank you, Master,” he sobbed, “thank you, thank-”
“Enough. Start counting.”
___________________
“Five!” he cried. His head swam, his vision sparking at six, seven, eight-
How many would there be?
___________________
Emmett sobbed, his back raw and burning. His ears rang with his own screams- another blow-
“Tw- twenty!”
___________________
“Please…” he begged, “no- no more. Please.” His knees shook, and each shifting stumble yanked more on his screaming shoulders. But it was nothing compared to everything else.
He could feel the beads of blood forming from the back of his thighs, up his ass, to the top of his shoulder blades. That, and the searing pain, was the only warmth he had.
Master hummed. The tip of the crop grazed over his welts, and he didn’t have the energy to flinch away. He panted through the feeling. It was like sandpaper over his raw skin.
“Have you learned a lesson?”
“Y- yes, Master.”
“I suppose we could put this away.” He tapped the crop on his ass, and that time he jumped. Master chuckled.
The locker slammed shut. He heard the sound of plastic, and something cool touched his back. He whimpered.
“Hush.”
It took a minute before he realized it was some sort of cream, and the relief was the most intense joy he’d ever experienced.
He bit his lip to keep quiet as Master spread the cream over each mark.
It could be so much worse. Master really was lenient. He only hurt him once he’d messed up, and rightfully so. How hard was it to keep his mouth shut?
He should have known Master wasn’t going to sell him off when Jake had offered.
Master decided he was worth more than money, and had given him a second chance.
It wouldn’t go to waste.
“You know,” murmured Master into his ear. “I only punished you to be sure you understand my requirements. You still have to make it up to me, Emmett.”
He nodded. That made sense, what was the point of rules with no consequences? He’d been warned after all. And he had upset Master so much…
Master lowered him down slowly. His muscles screamed from the effort, and he shook from exhaustion.
Master uncapped a bottle of water and pressed it to his lips. Emmett drank greedily, the cool water a balm to his sore throat. Once it was gone, Master tossed it in the trash can at the end of the basement.
Even when he was angry, he was kind enough to take care of him.
Emmett didn’t move, waiting on his knees for Master’s next instructions.
Master stood in front of him, and Emmett could barely look him in the eye. But Master had that smile on him again, and that was good.
Master cupped the back of his head, bringing him straight to his crotch, and Emmett knew what was expected.
“Go on,” said Master, “Make it up to me.”
He kissed the front of Master’s trousers as thanks. Hands shaking, he undid the button, and slowly pulled the zipper. He mouthed at the bulge in Master’s underwear, and Master sighed, pleased.
He carefully took out Master’s cock, stroking it the best he knew how. He’d never given a blowjob before, but he knew what he personally liked.
He licked up the underside of Master’s dick, and Master’s fingers began to stroke his hair.
He took the tip into his mouth, and tried to think about what would feel good. He took in more and more of Master’s cock, doing his best to breathe.
He had only Master’s breathy moans to rely on, but it seemed to be working. Master hit the back of his throat, and his eyes began to water. He bobbed his head, and Master began to thrust. He cursed and gripped his hair, and Emmett did his best not to gag.
“Fuck, Emmett,” he groaned. He was close, he could see it in Master’s face. And sure enough, moments later his mouth was full of cum. He tried to swallow it all, but he choked as Master pulled out, coughing onto the floor.
“There’s a good boy,” said Master. He wiped off the lingering cum from Emmett’s chin, pushing it back into his mouth. It was bitter on his tongue, but he licked it clean. He was a good boy, and that was what mattered.
Master tucked himself back into his pants. He ran a hand through his hair.
“Right, then. Back in the kennel, my dear.”
His face fell. After all that, after everything, he was supposed to go back in there?
“Don’t look at me like that, sweetheart. I still can’t trust you, now can I?” He couldn’t afford to hesitate; he crawled back inside the kennel. Master was right, but it still stung.
But as he curled up inside, head on pillow (he couldn’t stand the idea of a blanket on his torn-up back), he only felt relief. The kennel was safe; he wouldn’t be hurt here. The bars were a barrier between him and the world. Even more than Master’s house.
The guest was staring at him with red rimmed eyes, tear tracks down his face. What was he crying about?
Emmett didn’t get much sleep. It was still the middle of the day, but he desperately wanted to rest. He burrowed his head into the pillow, trying to drown out the harsh fluorescent lights and the babble of his roommate.
The man kept talking about escape, or fighting back; stupid shit that he didn’t want to hear. Why the fuck should he leave, anyway? The world was full of monsters like serial killers and landlords, and if he hadn’t messed up his life would be perfect by now.
Emmett ignored him.
The door at the top of the steps clicked open. He was so attuned to the doors now, he could hear it through the chatter of the guest.
The scent of something delicious wafted down the stairs. His stomach rumbled.
Emmett was stripped naked, cold, and his back and ass burned. And the man would not shut up.
God, he was going to lose his mind down here. Tears formed at the corners of his eyes.
Don’t cry, he told himself. Don’t you dare cry.
He heard Master on the steps, and his mouth began to water. Finally, some food.
Master unlocked the kennel, and Emmett crawled out. He didn’t like being so exposed, completely nude and vulnerable, but he made no move to cover up. It could be disobedient.
“Thank you, Master,” he said as he set the plate in front of him. Master liked good manners.
Lunch was plain chicken and rice with peas, and it was a far cry from whatever Master was cooking upstairs. Emmett didn’t care. Food was food.
Master fed the guest, and watched them eat.
Emmett thought as he ate his rice. Obviously the best course of action was to be absolutely obedient from now on, and hope that would be enough.
___________________
It wasn’t enough.
He’d been silent, only speaking to thank Master, and perfectly good. It didn’t seem to work. He was still ‘grounded’, but at least he had boxers now.
He was doing the work, taking care of the morning routine. Master even trusted him enough to leave after refastening his muzzle.
But Master no longer ruffled his hair or smiled at him. Not even a ‘good job’, and the silence was crushing. He was forbidden from speaking with guests, and the lack of interaction, any at all, was maddening.
What else could he do?
___________________
The opportunity came soon enough. They were alone again, just him and Master in the house.
“I think we can leave this off, hm?” Master dangled the muzzle in his fingers. Emmett nodded. “Good.”
Master turned to go hang the muzzle on its hook and Emmett had to act fast.
He lowered himself onto his hands and bowed his head to the cold floor. Maybe Master would take pity and pay attention to him.
“Emmett,” said Master, and he couldn’t read his tone. “What are you doing?”
“Please,” he whimpered. “I’m sorry. Please let me fix it. I want to be good for you.” He tried his hardest not to cry, but his voice cracked and tears slipped down his face. “I just want to fix it.”
Master said nothing, and he started to sob. His hands came to tug at his hair and he rocked a little trying to calm down.
“I can’t do this! Please, talk to me! I can’t-”
“Emmett, be quiet.” He shut his mouth hard enough to clack his teeth. Master crouched down in front of him, and took his chin in hand. Through his blurry tears he could hardly see Master’s expression.
“You want to be good for me?” Emmett nodded the best he could, still whimpering.
Master stood. “Come on then.” Master turned to the stairs, and Emmett’s heart soared. He followed him up the staircase, and deeper into the house. Was he finally good enough for a room?
Master opened the door to reveal a plain bedroom with a queen sized bed, a dresser, and a nightstand. It was perfect.
“Get on the bed, my dear.” Emmett scrambled for the bed, kneeling in the center.
“Lie down. On your stomach.” He got down immediately, but his excitement faded when he realized. He tensed at the sound of Master’s belt.
“Relax, darling,” cooed Master behind him.
“I- I’ve never-” he stammered, turning his head to the side to see him.
“I’ll be ever so gentle. Nothing to fear.” Master came to the nightstand, pulling open a drawer to reveal lube.
“Have I ever lied to you, Emmett?”
“No, Master,” he whispered, eyeing the bottle. He clutched the bedsheets.
Master disappeared behind him, and he felt the bed dip. A warm hand guided him, tilting his ass upward to reveal more of his most sensitive areas. He flushed.
Master would not lie to him. He would be gentle.
Fingers dipped underneath the waistband of his boxers, slowly pulling them down. He heard a plastic sound, and a wet squelch as Master emptied some lube into his palm.
Emmett took a deep breath in and out.
“Good boy.”
A cool wetness circled around his hole before slowly pushing in.
Just one finger, and it already felt a bit much.
“Just breathe. It will feel good soon.” Master would not lie to him, Master does not lie-
He gasped as the finger brushed that spot inside; one he’d heard of but never tried himself.
Master hummed, pleased, and Emmett could finally relax a bit. Master was happy, and that eased his worries.
A second finger, just as slick, entered him and it wasn’t… so bad. This was a test, he was sure of it, and he was determined to pass.
The second finger turned into three, and Master seemed keen on pressing against that spot every other thrust. By the time he deemed him open enough, he was panting and rock hard. Precum dripped onto the sheets, but he was too distracted to remember this was supposed to be his new bed, and too out of it to be upset it was already ruined.
Master shifted behind him, and his only thought was to breathe.
He pressed into Emmett, slow and careful. Master grunted, and he tried hard to relax and not feel like he was being torn apart.
He was so big.
But Master was a gentle, patient man, and he waited for Emmett to adjust before fully fucking him.
It felt strange, but a part of him enjoyed the attention. Master brushed against that spot, and stars burst in his vision.
He cried out on a particularly nice thrust, and Master reached around to stroke him. Emmett was torn between pushing back and pressing forward into Master’s hand.
It was good, hard but not demanding, firm but not bruising, and Emmett was so so close.
But Master finished hot inside him, and pulled out. Emmett whined at the loss, sinking into the bed. Disappointment coursed through him, but Master grabbed him by the waist and flipped him over. He grasped Emmett in hand, and stroked him hard and fast. Emmett panted and rolled his hips until finally, finally, he came.
There was a tiny part of him that screamed in horror at what he’d become, but the respite that came with pleasing Master drowned it out.
He had passed. Master hadn’t lied, and he had won the attention he was craving. It was everything he wanted.
“Such a good boy,” murmured Master as he cleaned him up with a warm washcloth. He got Emmett a new pair of boxers from the dresser. “I think you’ve earned this room. What do you think?”
