Wasteland
by Becca Abbott
Part 3
They found the missing boy three days later, wandering near Dana Bahn of all places, dazed and with no memory of the past three days. The police called Katze, who came to get him. The pet was frightened and confused. Seeing the eunuch, his wine-colored eyes lit up in relief.
"Was he injured?" Katze asked the officer in charge.
"He doesn't seem to be. We found him walking up the street near the old computer complex. He's a bit banged up and hungry."
It was a piece of good fortune Katze did not trust. The other boys had been found in a cheap Ceres brothel and had been well-used by the time they'd been retrieved. That this one, the cream of the crop, should have somehow escaped seemed – unlikely. He signed the papers to take custody of the boy. Then, with the Pet's slender hand trustingly in his, he took the boy straight to his own small, but well equipped infirmary for a complete examination.
The door to Guy's tiny room creaked open. He felt the inevitable knotting of his gut. Hurting everywhere, he forced himself to rise to his knees from the cold concrete, gathering his chains close. There was no telling what fresh horrors awaited him tonight, no way of telling whether it was night. Time seemed to have no meaning in this dark, dank hell.
"Mongrel."
He lifted his head reluctantly and, through the tangled mop of hair that fell into his eyes, saw the Blondie. "You." The word was little more than a rasp. His throat was ravaged from accepting more cocks than he could count. At the end of most nights lately he could not even scream.
"Stand up."
So he rose on unsteady limbs, praying that he wouldn't collapse again and invite more punishment.
"I am Raoul," said the Blondie in a cold voice. "Iason has given you to me."
Guy said nothing. There was, after all, nothing to say. If Iason gave him to someone, then that was who Guy would serve. Behind the Blondie appeared a Furniture. Guy recognized him vaguely as being employed by the whorehouse. The man removed Guy's chains, replacing them with a leather manacles and a leash.
He was leaving?
Raoul gave the leash a sharp tug and Guy stumbled after him, out of the cell and down the familiar corridor. He passed doors to rooms he knew very well, each room set up to accommodate the specific interests of the clients. Half expecting to be shown to one of them again, he was dimly surprised when they took an elevator up into more spacious and well-appointed rooms. Surrounded by pets and masters, he stood numbly while Raoul talked to a man, took several large envelopes, then pulled Guy away, out of the building and into a dark street.
There was a car. Raoul opened the door and pushed Guy into it. The mongrel sprawled across the seat and remained there, bewildered and apprehensive. He felt a hand on his lacerated shoulders.
"It's not necessary to remind you that pleasing me is the only way you will live?"
Guy closed his eyes, lips moving, but nothing came out.
"Sit up!"
Guy sat. It hurt, but then, everything did.
The car pulled away from the curb and raced through the dark, half-empty streets of Midas. Guy stared blindly at the towering skyscrapers that passed. Once upon a time, he thought distantly, he had been free. He had laughed at the Blondies and defied the powers of Tanagura, thinking himself tough enough to best them at their own games. What an idiot he'd been.
"Raoul," he said, tasting the name.
The Blondie scowled. "Speak when spoken to," he snapped.
Guy bowed his head in silent acquiescence, too tired, too dispirited to defy his new master. He didn't remember reaching Raoul's condo. He thought Raoul might have cursed him, but Guy could make little sense of anything. Something stung his shoulder and awareness crept back.
He knelt in the middle of luxury, still naked, leather manacles still tight around his wrists. Tall windows looked out over glittering Midas. The carpet under his knees was soft and deep. It smelled good, too, this place. He didn't once forget, however, that this luxury was just hell in disguise. Was Riki somewhere like this waiting for Iason's pleasure?
There was movement from the corner of his eye. His heart almost stopped and he lowered his head again. Pet. Fingers clenched.
"Come to me."
Guy swallowed hard and started to get to his feet.
"Crawl."
He couldn't. Part of him shrieked to obey, to do anything that might keep him out of the whorehouse. The other part, the streetwise, feisty mongrel, snarled at the thought.
"You disobey?" Raoul's voice was a breath, but Guy heard him clearly enough.
"Whatever you want from me," Guy whispered, "you'll have to take by force."
"I was hoping you'd have that attitude," purred the Blondie, rising with the disconcerting grace of his kind.
Around his cock, Guy's pet ring suddenly constricted and the pain was unbelievable. He could not even scream, reality breaking apart in a thousand glittering shards. When his head cleared, he was lying face down in the carpet, covered with sweat, body twitching in autonomic response. Horror filled him. He tried to move and could not.
Footsteps approached. He found the strength to lift his head and saw the Blondie's boots. They stopped inches from his face. Guy wondered dimly if Raoul was going to kick him, but the Blondie bent and, without any apparent effort, dragged Guy by the wrists across the room and into the next.
This room was not carpeted. Guy saw in a minute that it was a bath. Raoul hauled him to the edge of a big tub filled with steaming water and shoved him in. Guy sank to the bottom at once. Gasping, he burst back up and sat, trying to wipe long strands of wet hair from his face with his shackled hands.
"Clean yourself," came the Blondie's cold command, "and remember what that thing around your sex can do."
Guy dropped his eyes, trembling with humiliation, and felt himself nod.
"Say it. Say, yes, master."
"Yes, master."
"Louder."
"Yes, master!"
The Blondie left the chamber. Guy sat in the warm water, head spinning. It felt good, he admitted after a moment. All his bruises and cuts, his aching muscles, seemed to ease. He'd never had a bath. In Ceres there were usually showers. Guy swept his hand across the water's surface. On the end of the tub was a shelf covered in bottles. Curiosity made him lean forward to look closer.
Oils, soaps and lotions of all sorts awaited him. He stared at them. Almost certainly he would be expected to use some of these, to make certain that he was clean and his smell pleased his master. Resentment tightened his throat even as he reached for one. Unscrewing the cap, he gave the shampoo an experimental sniff. It had a nice, subtle, spicy fragrance.
In Ceres, the gang had talked about what it must be like to be a pet, to live in luxury. Even as they had belittled the hapless boys whose lot it was, they had been envious, too.
Guy poured a little of the shampoo onto his palm and began to wash his hair, awkward in the shackles. The scent of the stuff filled his nostrils. He washed his body gingerly, wincing when the soap stung the open sores. Finally he was certain he could get no cleaner. Could he get out now or must he wait for Raoul's permission? He was still sitting, frozen with indecision, when the door opened and the Blondie returned.
Their gazes locked across the side of the tub. Guy felt an unaccountable twinge of admiration. Raoul had changed. His ornate business garb was gone. He wore only a pair of loose, full trousers. Smooth chest, broad shoulders and that relentless Blondie beauty made Guy shiver.
"You may get out."
Guy obeyed. He stood a moment, swaying. Then his knees gave out and he went to the floor. Barefoot, the Blondie came forward. A soft towel descended on Guy's bent head.
"Be still," came the command when he tried to flinch away.
Guy knelt on the tiles, head bowed, as Raoul dried him. To his surprise, the Blondie was careful of his hurts. It felt good, and in spite of himself, Guy's body relaxed under the gentle massage. The towel was finally taken away.
"Can you stand?"
Slowly, Guy rose and faced Raoul. The Blondie jerked his chin to the door and Guy went. Through the sprawling condo he walked, conscious of the other man at his back, until he reached the bedroom. His stomach tightened and he started to turn. Hands on his shoulders propelled him forward to the bed.
"Turn around."
Guy straightened and did so, facing the Blondie, chin lifting. He saw amusement flash in those blue eyes. Then Raoul gave him a hard push and sent Guy sprawling backward across the mattress. Strong hands seized his shackled wrists, pulling them up and fastening them to a short length of chain attached to the headboard. Fear roared through Guy in a storm of hideous memories. He made a small sound of pure terror, scrabbling desperately to sit up, backing across the bed until he was pressed against the head of it.
"Please," he whispered. "Please don't."
But he knew, of course, that the Blondie would do precisely as the Blondie wished.
Raoul looked down at the mongrel. Guy was pale and desperately frightened. It was understandable, given his recent past, but Raoul had no intention of allowing the Pet to indulge in his emotions.
"Lie down," he ordered. "On your belly."
A quick, jerky shake of the dark head. Raoul reached into the pocket of his trousers and touched the ring control Iason had given him. Guy screamed, body arching. Seizing an ankle, Raoul pulled him back, turning him over and stretching him out. The brief resistance vanished. Long fingers wrapped convulsively around the chain and the man was still. His breath came in quick, terrified gasps. Every muscle was strung tight as wire.
Raoul looked down at the lean, supple form. Guy's face was pressed against his arm. He shivered constantly. Running an assessing hand down that straining body, Raoul again noted the bruises and welts.
"Open your legs," he commanded quietly.
Another despairing sound and Guy obeyed. Raoul pulled apart his buttocks and in spite of himself, winced. The man's perineum was bruised and raw. His anus was purple and badly swollen, the edges torn. Guy whimpered when Raoul thrust his finger through. When he took it out, it was streaked with blood.
"When you killed Iason, you lost any hope of kindness from me," Raoul said.
"But he's alive!"
Angrily, Raoul pushed his finger back in, then another. He pulled another sob from his new pet. In a minute Guy would be lubricated enough with blood.
Raoul had considered purchasing another pet, someone big and strong who could use Guy unmercifully. But instead, he found himself infected by the same damn madness that had almost ruined Iason. His groin ached and not for his own touch. Why was he even hesitating? This wasn't the same. Like Iason had said, the rules didn't apply to mongrels. He undid his trousers and let them fall.
Guy shuddered when Raoul climbed up onto the bed and knelt between his spread legs. Raoul lifted Guy's hips, positioning his cock against the man's bleeding hole. With rough strength, he pulled the pet onto him and nearly died at the sensation.
Jupiter, he thought dimly, overcome at the storm of pleasure that consumed him. The friction was eased just enough by the blood and he felt himself move harder and faster, driving deep into the helpless mongrel who sobbed at each savage thrust.
Orgasm came with unbelievable intensity. Raoul collapsed on top of Guy's sweat-soaked body and lay still while his breathing steadied and his heartbeat returned to normal. He could feel the other man's pulse, fast and erratic, under him.
Drawing away finally, he rose to his knees. Blood smeared Guy's buttocks and thighs. Raoul turned him over. The long, dark lashes were wet, brushing tear-soaked cheeks. His lip was bitten through. Between his legs, his cock was semi-stiff. Raoul took it in hand and heard a whisper of protest.
Curious, the Blondie began to stroke it. It hardened. Those battered lips parted slightly. Raoul's eyes were drawn to Guy's nipples. They had received their share of abuse in the whorehouse judging from the scabs. He released the mongrel's cock to touch them. A tear leaked from the corner of Guy's eye, but still he made no sound.
An ordinary pet would be dead or screaming, thought Raoul. Mongrels were hardier stuff. He let his hand smooth over the man's ribs. They were blotched with bruises. Guy's hips and groin were nearly black with them. Abruptly, Raoul had enough. He got off the bed. "Come with me."
Guy fell as soon as his feet hit the floor. He huddled on hands and knees, panting, clearly in pain. Dark hair fell in a cloud around his shoulders and hid his face. Raoul reached down and lifted the man into his arms. Guy made no sound, but he was shivering and his skin was hot.
The pet room was an oasis of luxury. The beds were soft, the fabrics sumptuous. Everything for the comfort and pleasure of the master was present – including the occupant.
Raoul lay Guy onto the enormous round bed. The mongrel rolled onto his side and watched him. Raoul found himself unable to meet that distant, clouded gaze. The creature was ill and badly damaged. Standing up, he took his phone from his pocket and entered the number.
"I'll need a pet doctor. Yes. As soon as possible. Thank you."
Raoul bent and swept a blanket over the young man. Guy's eyes drifted shut. Turning, the Blondie left the room and went to wait for the doctor.
The message came from Jupiter while Iason was negotiating an energy contract with an official from the neighboring city of Dalmei. On his computer screen, Jupiter's form took ethereal shape. Selig Horn is dead.
For just a moment, Iason had no idea what the AI was talking about. Then he remembered. Horn – an Elite from a small city that lay to the east of Tanagura. He'd had some business dealings with the man lately. Iason waited, knowing there must be more.
"He was murdered. Blown up by a bomb hidden in a gift. A gift you gave him."
"What are you talking about? Gift?" And then he remembered. Pale eyebrows drew together sharply. "I gave him a Pet."
"Yes," agreed Jupiter. "So it would seem."