FicWad

“Get moving, you scum!” Frank grunted when he felt his knees collide with the sickly green-brown mud on the ground, and he silently cursed himself for pausing. He struggled to his feet and he stepped forward, following the burly ogre of a man in front of him.

This was the life he had been forced into. His wrists were bound, and he wore a pair of faded slacks. No shirt, no shoes, he did not have the opportunity to embrace such luxuries. The man before him stopped, and as a result Frank almost collided with him. He did not dare lift his eyes to look around. He could hear the moans of agony through the rain, and the whip cracks hitting both air and flesh. The Slave Market was a horrible place; one Frank loathed with ever fiber of his being.

The slaver who had brought him in dragged him to a wooden post suspended several feet in the air, and he tied Frank’s wrists securely in place. Frank groaned, but he did not protest. He was too short, and his feet barely touched the ground, and the result was his arms aching from the strain.

Hours passed, and the rain came down harder. Frank’s head was slumped forward against his chest, and he was violently shaking with cold. He had not eaten in several days and he was sure he was going to get sick, given that the rain felt like ice against his skin. Frank moaned in agony, but he soon regretted it when he felt the Slaver’s whip graze his side—bruising, but not cutting the flesh it came into contact with. “Quiet, you.” He growled, “You’re scaring off the customers.”

Frank fell silent, though once in a while he would try to stand properly, only to have his bare feet slip and slide in the mud. He sighed and closed his eyes, though only for a moment. That was all he had before he heard the sloshing of one’s footfalls approaching him. The footfalls ceased and a mid-range, gravelly voice spoke. “Aren’t you over-taxing him, just a bit? Surely this rain isn’t good for his health.”

“He hasn’t been out here that long,” his slaver replied, “You interested?” The man did not speak; instead he approached Frank, who tensed when he felt a strong hand grasp his jaw, and lift his head, forcing Frank to look this man in the eyes.

Frank squirmed, but he hadn’t the strength to resist him. He stared up into the hazel eyes so like his own and shivered, knowing his future was set before this man had even said a word. The man released Frank’s jaw, ands his head fell forward limply. “How much?” he asked, and Frank’s hands clenched into fists.

Frank’s slaver and this man haggled for a few minutes, finally coming to an agreement on price. The Slaver walked over to Frank and released him from the post, and he crumpled to a heap in the mud. He made no noise, and he struggled to stand before his new master. His wrists were still bound by leather cord, and he fell once more, splattering his side with mud before he managed to stand on shaky legs before the man.

The man in question made Frank’s insides squirm. He was tall and muscular with short, bristly hair and he wore a leather jacket and snakeskin pants. He looked Frank over with a look of revulsion, before he turned and twitched his hand, “Come.” He walked off, clearly intending for Frank to follow.

With a grimace, Frank limped behind the man, and he groaned, finding out quickly that they were walking. The rain was beginning to let up, but the wind was getting worse, biting at his wet skin fiercely.

They walked for what felt like an eternity, and Frank was aching all over. He was following the man through a forest path, all the while doing his best to keep quiet. He had sliced the bottom of his foot open on a rock, causing him to leave bloody footprints in his wake. With every gasp of pain he froze momentarily, praying the man did not notice. He never did, but this did not quell Frank’s fear.

As the trees thinned around them, they came upon a large, elegant manor. Frank swallowed a gasp at the beauty of it, but he admired it only for a moment, before he stumbled to follow the man up to the front doors. In his haste, he gasped and fell, grimacing as a few stray rocks on the grassy lawn dug into his skin. He quickly forced himself up, the man turning back once to look at him with a cocked eyebrow.

“Hurry up. I don’t have all day.” He then turned and headed to the doors with Frank at his heel. Frank stopped, and he was trembling with exhaustion. He opened the doors, and led Frank inside. He closed and locked the doors and turned to Frank briefly to cut the bonds from his wrists, “I need to clean you up and make you presentable for your new master.” He said, then turned and led Frank up an elegant Oak staircase.

Without daring to question the man, Frank followed him up to a large, beautiful bathroom on the second landing, easily twice the size of any normal bathroom. The man stepped over to the tub and ran the water, and Frank leaned back against the closed door, watching him silently. “Come here, remove your clothing and get in.” Being perfectly used to being naked in front of others, he removed his only garment, and he limped to the bath and slipped into the warm, perfumed water.

Frank savored the next half hour, where this man cleaned him as if he were a helpless infant, dressed the wound on his foot, and gave him clean, warm clothes.

Warm, dry, and smelling faintly of vanilla, Frank was returned to reality as the man led him from the bathroom, up another flight of stairs, and into a large sitting room.

A roaring fire was alit in the stone fireplace, several large couches were placed around it, and the floor was carpeted. Frank quickly lowered his gaze to hide his fear. A man, presumably his new master was sitting comfortably in one of the armchairs, watching them both with a neutral expression.

“He’s ready,” the man next to Frank said, to which Frank instinctively moved closer to him, longing for any sort of reassurance. If anything, the man lurched away from him.

“Shadows,” the low, quivering voice said, “out.” The man Frank now knew as Shadows spun on his heel and left, almost frightfully fast. The man then turned to Frank, who was trembling with fright. “Come here, boy.” He said extending an arm, and twitching a finger towards himself in a ‘come’ movement.

Frank walked forward quickly, and he kneeled before him with his eyes focused on the floor. He tensed when he felt a warm hand comb through his hair. He trembled, but forced himself to stay in his place. The man moved his hand to tightly grasp his hair, and he lifted Frank up and halfway into his lap. Frank swallowed nervously, with his feet still resting on the ground; his upper body was splayed across his master’s lap.

He looked down at Frank and smiled, his fingers brushing over his cheek, then his lips, every touch feather-light. “What is your name?”

“F-Frank,” he replied softly, and he could not help the smallest of whimpers from passing his lips when he felt his master’s fingers brush across his cheek once more.

“Frank, lovely,” he purred the words, as if Frank’s intense fear was somehow pleasing to him. His finger slid down his cheek, then up and across the shell of his ear. “To you, I have no name. I am your Master. Remember that.” Frank closed his eyes and suppressed another shiver, while the man’s hand moved to the buttons of the silk shirt he had been wearing, and unbuttoned it slowly, slow enough to cause Frank’s heart rate to almost double. He knew what would be asked of him in this household, but that did not in any way prepare him for it.

His shirt was half open, and he stopped. Frank dared to look up at him, but he quickly glanced away when he saw his master staring intensely down at him. “Stand,” he said the order firmly, and Frank stood up quickly. His master followed in one fluid motion, and he approached Frank in two swift strides.

He roughly grabbed Frank’s hair, and Frank yelped in pain. His master groaned and kissed him hard, invading his mouth with his tongue and shocking Frank. The kiss was so powerful…so demanding, Frank could not help but shiver with fright.

He released Frank abruptly, and began to walk towards the doors. “Follow,” he said simply, to which Frank obeyed, fearing the consequences of not doing so.

He led Frank down the hall and into a large, extravagant bedroom. The bed itself was large enough to fit four people comfortably, and the room was warm, absent of any drafts. The walls were a dark, forest green, and it too had a warm carpet covering the floor.

Once the two of them were inside, his master shut the door and strode towards Frank, and he hastily unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way, then forced it off. Like before, he roughly grabbed at Frank’s hair and kissed him. Frank moaned in pain, it felt like his master was bruising his lips in the process. Breathing hard, he pulled back and stared down at Frank with an animalistic hunger in his eyes. He pushed Frank back onto the bed, and he kissed him again, while holding onto the back of his neck in an almost bruising grip.

Soon, he pulled back gasping for air and he rolled over, allowing Frank to be on top—for the moment. “Undress me,” he murmured while lifting up his arms, looking at Frank expectantly.

With trembling hands, Frank’s hands moved to the hem of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head. He moved to the leather belt, unbuckling it and pulling it off. At that same moment, he noticed something large and heavy tumble onto the bed. How he had noticed it earlier, Frank did not know, but at that moment he was frozen with terror. It was a thick whip, the end decorated with an assortment of iron hooks. His breathing too had stilled and he just barely restrained himself from crying out when he felt his master’s hand brush across the back of his neck. “Be a good boy and do what I ask, and you will never feel those hooks on your back.” Frank looked up, and his master was looking down at him with a look that could almost have been compassion.

“Get moving, that was not an empty threat.” Frank swallowed and nodded, and returned to the task at hand. He pushed the already discarded clothing and whip onto the floor, then unbuttoned his master’s pants, but he wasn’t surprised when he found there was a lack of underwear.

“Come here,” his master murmured when he had finished, and Frank moved to his master’s side, still shaking a little, though now more from nervousness than actual fright. He kissed Frank tenderly, and he slid one hand down to the button of his pants, and undid and pulled them off one-handed.

“Shadows chose you well,” he murmured when he pulled back from the kiss, while his right hand brushed across Frank’s chest, causing him to shiver. “Physical beauty,” he kissed the hollow of Frank’s throat, “docile natured,” he kissed across his clavicle, “Weak.” He breathed the word against Frank’s skin, and he suppressed a shudder. He kissed down to Frank’s belly button, then slid his tongue down Frank’s happy trail, then stopped when he heard Frank’s strangled moan.

With a grin, he moved back up and kissed Frank lightly, “Who is the master here?”

“Y-you,” Frank stuttered, while averting his eyes shamefully.

“And who do you serve?”

“You.” Frank was trembling a little—it had been too long since he desired another like this.

“On your knees.” Frank hid his shock behind an unresponsive mask, and he slid off the warm bed to rest between his master’s spread legs. He sat up and looked down at Frank, “You know what to do.”

Frank took a deep breath to steady himself, then he grasped the base of his master’s hardened member, and slid the head into his mouth. He groaned, and combed one hand through Frank’s hair. “G-good boy, keep going…” Frank slowly bobbed his head, with shameful tears streaking his cheeks. After a few moments, he deep-throated him, and his master thrust into his mouth in response. Frank hummed, creating a very pleasant vibration, and he gasped. Frank gripped his master’s hips to keep himself steady, alternating between deep-throating him and bobbing his head tantalizingly slowly.

Above him, his master moaned, his hand tightening on Frank’s hair. “That’s it,” he breathed the words, and took another shuddering breath, “Just…just a little bit more…” He gasped sharply and bucked into Frank’s mouth, groaning as his release came in one fell swoop.

Trembling, Frank pulled back and forced himself to swallow, while struggling against a strong urge to gag. Against his better judgment, Frank looked up at his master, who was all but hyperventilating, a thin sheen of sweat causing his skin to almost glow in the dim light of the room. He looked down at Frank, and smiled. “Come,” he purred softly, to which Frank mutely climbed up alongside his master.

Frank looked at him silently, much like a shy child to a new face. He tensed a little when he felt the other man’s hand gently brush along his cheek and rest there. He pulled Frank in for a deep and passionate kiss, one which Frank returned almost too eagerly.

Frank’s hands linked behind his master’s neck, and he pressed himself up against him. “So eager,” he breathed as he pulled back from Frank, “You forget who the master is here!” Frank cried out, and tumbled down to the ground, for his master had backhanded him so hard that he was surprised that the bone had not snapped under the pressure. He now understood why Shadows had acted as if he feared this man.

He stood over the frightened slave with a fire burning in his eyes. “You do nothing without my permission, nothing!” He grabbed Frank’s wrist in a painfully tight hold, and tossed him onto the bed. He was trembling, watching his master with wide eyes, though this innocent fear seemed not enough to spare him from his master’s scorn.

All but seething, he flipped Frank onto his stomach and grabbed both of his wrists in one hand. He tightly tied them to the headboard of the bed, to which Frank began to cry. “M-master, please—don’t do this—“ he yelped, feeling the cutting of a ring in his shoulder when he punched him. “Silence.” At that same moment, he heard the distinct rushing noise of his master brandishing his whip. Frank clenched his eyes shut…

Crack.

Frank shrieked in pain—it hurt more than he could have even imagined. He squirmed and wept, barely able to get a handle on the burning, fiery pain before it came down again.

Crack.

Frank buried his face in the soft blankets and moaned in pain. His movements slowed a little, in hoped that if his body relaxed, it would hurt less.

Crack.

Blood splattered the sheets, and Frank shuddered.

Crack.

Frank whimpered, but he did not scream. This time, instead of another whipping, he heard the weapon tumble to the floor. Whimpering in pain, he felt his master lie beside him and pull the slave close in what was supposed to be a comforting embrace. He felt the bonds on his wrists loosen and fall, and he pressed himself against his master. “Never anger me, Frank. It will only be your end.”

Frank had stopped moving, assuming that his torment was over for the night. It only took a backhand to the side of his face to realize that he was mistaken. “Don’t fall asleep, I’m not finished with you.” His words were spoken in a cool monotone, while he rolled Frank back onto his stomach.

Weak from blood loss, Frank could not have protested even if he tried. He felt his master force him into a half-kneeling, doggy style position, and his hand brushed across Frank’s back, causing his multiple wounds to sting. He clenched his eyes shut, feeling his master position himself behind Frank.

He groaned and eased himself into Frank. Frank trembled, but it did not hurt half as much as he expected. For a brief moment this confused him, then he felt the bile rise in his throat. ‘He used my blood as lubrication…’ Frank closed his eyes and swallowed thickly, trying to block out the guttural moans his master was emitting.

Frank closed his eyes, and he imagined himself somewhere else, anywhere else but here. His master’s moans grew louder, and Frank let out the smallest of cries when he felt his master’s release.

He collapsed forward on the bed, dragging Frank with him.

~

Shadows looked up at the ceiling with a small frown. “Hey!” His comrade, a young man with shoulder-length dark hair and a black fedora shoved his shoulder. “It’s your move, don’t space on me now.” Gates glared at him past a hand of cards, and Shadows looked at him after rolling his eyes.

“The screams stopped,” Shadows said simply. “I’ll be right back.”

“Bad idea, dude! I wouldn’t, if I were you. You know how Gerard gets if you interrupt his playtime with his toys.” Shadows had already stood up, and he was heading for the door. “Well, it’s your funeral.” Gates mumbled, while reshuffling the deck and mumbling obscenities under his breath.

Shadows ignored him and headed up to the main floor, and he listened hard. In spite of Gates being the world’s biggest wuss, he did have a point—if Gerard wasn’t finished, he wouldn’t want to be the one to interrupt. Hearing nothing, he silently ascended the next flight of stairs, and headed to the door of the master bedroom.

He pressed his ear to the door and listened hard—silence. He carefully turned the knob on the door and opened it just enough to peer in.

They were both asleep. Gerard was snuggled under the bed sheets like an overgrown child. Frank was lying on top of the bedcovers, the welts on his back still bleeding slightly, and Gerard was clutching him like a human teddy bear. Bruises were blossoming on his cheek, along his arms and across his chest.

Smiling with relief, Shadows closed the door silently and he headed back down to where Gates was waiting. He looked up when he saw Shadows enter, and he raised an eyebrow questioningly. “How’s the kid?”

“He’ll live,” Shadows replied as he sat down, “But if Gerard keeps this up, I’ll need to get him a new slave—again. He’s too rough, He’s already bloodied up his new bed sheets.”

“Dumbass.” Gates muttered as he dealt the cards. Shadows nodded in agreement, but he didn’t speak. He knew better that to feel sympathy for the slaves, compassion would lose him his job.

“Agreed.”

-Fin.