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It’s then between two men, one sounding high pitched and angry, the other alarmingly low and calm. Carter’s not sure who sounds like they’d be a better owner.
850
900
A long, stretched out silence. Then a meek, “950.”
And a low, soft, angry chuckle. “You know what? 2 mill.”
The gavel falls before the other person gets time to respond. There’s clapping. Laughter. Carter hears the auctioneer speak off mic. “That was entertaining.”
The same calm, low voice that had been bidding on him says, “No.Thiswill be.”
Then a hand is on Carter’s left ass cheek, a warm, heavy presence settling behind him, and Carter is panicking again.
“Please don’t,” he whispers, praying the man will be kinder if it’s just the two of them speaking. Maybe if the crowd can’t hear them, he can convince this man to show mercy. To not rape him. Not yet. Not here. Not like this.
Carter gasps as fingers run from his ass cheeks up his back and down his arms, not stopping until two hands are settled over his own. The man leans forward, his body covering Carter’s. His clothing feels scratchy on Carter’s sore skin, but he’s warm, and Carter has to say it feels very nice to be warm.
Lips brush the shell of Carter’s ear as the man speaks to him, his voice surprisingly soft and kind. “Just breathe, sweetheart.”
Keep calm.
Breathe.
Pay attention.
Wait.
Keep calm.
Breathe.
Pay attention.
Wait.
Just wait.
Carter whimpers when the anal plug they had put in his ass is tugged on. He starts to tremble, curling his hands into fists to try and gain some control back. The man told him to breathe, but hecan’t. He can’t fucking breathe.Oh god, he can’t breathe.
“Shhh.” The man nuzzles behind Carter’s ear, making him whimper again. This time it’s for an embarrassing reason. That’s one of the most sensitive spots on Carter’s entire body. He hates himself for the way he shivers. For the way his cock twitches in the tight plastic cage they’ve locked it in. Bile burns his throat.
His plug is gently pulled from his hole before cool lube is drizzled over his opening. Carter jerks in his restraints, earning a round of cruel laughter from the crowd. He goes perfectly still as a finger is pushed into him.
“Come on! Fuck him hard!”
“Make him scream!”
“Ruin that ass!”
“Don’t listen to them,” the man orders in that same soft voice as before, his lips finding Carter’s ear again as his finger stroke Carter’s prostate. “Just focus on me, sweetheart. You’reminenow. All mine. I’m going to take care of you. Breathe for me. Relax for me. Forget about them. Focus onme.”
Not sure if he should trust this man – but also not sure if there’s much of a choice – Carter listens. He takes a deep breath and forces his muscles to relax. The action earns him a low, rumbling, “Good boy.”
It does things to Carter’s mind, fucking him up. The man isn’t supposed to be kind. He isn’t supposed to care about Carter breathing and relaxing. He isn’t supposed to care about Carter at all. Carter is supposed to just be an object. A possession.
What game is this man playing?
