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Carter nods, moving off the bed cautiously in case it’s the wrong thing to do. When he isn’t stopped, he picks up the pace and hurries to the bathroom. Sir stops him before he can shut the door, his hand grasping the edge of it in a tight grip like he had with Carter’s throat.
“You don’t get privacy in this house. Leave this open. And hurry. You don’t want to make me miss breakfast, trust me.”
“Yes, sir,” Carter whispers, letting go of the door and hurrying to the toilet. He glances over to find sir standing there watching him, and he’s thankful all he has to do is pee. It’s awkward and humiliating to be watched as it is. He can’t imagine if he had to poop in front of the man. Hopefully whenever that time comes, sir will be distracted.
Once he’s relieved himself, Carter gets in the shower. He’s unable to see if sir is still in the doorway or not, but it doesn’t matter. He needs to focus on cleaning himself –thoroughly– and hurrying to get to the foot of the bed.
Carter soaps up his hair with one hand while running his other over his chest, shoulders, and arms. Then he tries to do his back the best he can. As the water does its job rinsing his hair out, Carter gets more soap on his hands and begins cleaning his bottom half. He’s hairless now, they had waxed him at the auction house, and it feels strange to soap up smooth legs and a smooth crotch. He doesn’t let himself dwell on it, though. He just hurries along, making sure to get every crease and hidden place he can find.
After putting it off until the very last moment, Carter forces himself to clean the place he’s sure sir was referring to when speaking about being thorough. With one shaking hand on the wall to brace himself, Carter reaches back. Tears spring to his eyes as he slips a soapy finger into his hole. He’s not hurt from last night, he was lucky sir prepared him so well, but he’s still sore. It doesn’t help that the finger reminds him of what it felt like to be raped, and he hates the way his stomach hurts with the memory. Carter needs to pull his hand away immediately, hoping the area is clean enough for sir because he can’t touch himself there anymore. It feels too… he doesn’t even know. It just feelstoo.
When Carter shuts the water off and slides the fogged glass shower door open, he jumps, nearly slipping, as he comes face to face with sir. Sir just lifts an eyebrow at him, lips twitching in amusement. Carter notices he’s holding a fluffy white towel. He reaches for it, athank youon his lips, but stops when sir pulls the towel out of reach. “Step out on the mat here. Legs parted.”
Carter does as told, his heart racing. It’s impossible to miss the way sir looks at him. There’s a heat in his gaze. A possessiveness. Carter holds perfectly still as the man uses the towel to dry him off. It’s not long before he’s relaxing, though. It’s impossible not to as he watches sir methodically dry him. Every touch is so… gentle. It’s that same possessiveness he felt in his gaze before, but softer now. The first type of possessiveness was ayou’re mine and I’m going to take youpossessiveness. The second type is ayou’re mine and I’m going to take care of youpossessiveness. It’s such a subtle shift, but it feels like everything.
Then sir is drying him off by wrapping his cock in the towel’s fabric, stroking it until Carter is growing hard for him, and Carter remembers that the first possessiveness is the real one. The other was an illusion. Wishful thinking. This man bought him for the purpose of fucking him. Any care he shows is just sir providing maintenance on his possession.
It hurts, but it shouldn’t hurt, so Carter stuffs the pain down as low as possible. Until it’s almost non-existent.
Sir finishes drying him off, stepping back and tossing the damp towel into a hamper. Carter reaches up self-consciously to run his fingers through his hair. He knows it’s a mess. It’s always such a mess. Especially now that it’s gotten so much longer than normal, the locks falling on his forehead and curling around his ears.
Before Carter even gets a chance to tame his hair, sir is wrapping a hand around Carter’s bicep and pulling him out of the bathroom. Carter forgets all about his hair and focuses instead on the rest of his orders, remembering to kneel the moment sir releases his arm.
Once he’s settled at sir’s feet, the man does nothing but stare at him. Even without looking up to see sir’s gaze, Carter can feel the weight of it. The heat. The possessiveness from before. He realizes sir is probably going to fuck him again. Maybe not this exact moment, but soon. Very soon. The thought causes Carter to sink into himself, but sir scolds him for it. “Straighten your back and look up at me. Don’t be disrespectful.”
Carter wants to tell him that he was only told to kneel, there weren’t any other stipulations, but he bites his tongue. Sir is in a bad mood today. Worse than last night. Carter knows he shouldn’t test him. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“Good.” Sir sighs, the sound surprisingly shaky, and reaches his hand out to run his fingers through Carter’s hair, taming the mess a bit like Carter had been trying to do earlier. Then he reaches down and unclasps the collar around Carter’s neck.
The world goes still, Carter’s breath catching.
Then he sees the new collar in sir’s hand, and he understands. He nearly laughs at himself for being ridiculous enough to think he wouldn’t be collared like an animal. This man has purchased him to be a sex slave. Of course, he’s going to collar him. Sir probably just wants his own collar on Carter instead of someone else’s.
In case Carter has any doubts, sir makes the situation clear. “You’re mine, now. You should wear my collar. This will never come off of you, understood? It’s waterproof. Once this is locked, I’m throwing away the key. Do you understand what that means, sweetheart?”
Carter nods. “Yes, sir.”
“Tell me.”
Forcing himself to look up at his sir, Carter states, “It means I belong to you, sir. For – forever.”
The man towering over him hums his approval but says nothing as he reaches down to wrap the collar around his neck. It’s softer than the one before. Carter thinks it might even be padded. He supposes if he has to be collared for the rest of his life, it’s a decent collar to be stuck with.
Once sir has the collar clasped at the back of Carter’s neck, he tugs at it once, then slips a finger beneath it almost like he’s testing the fit. Seeming to like where it’s at, sir locks the tiny padlock at the back of Carter’s neck and tilts his chin with one hand, putting the collar on display for sir to look at. All Carter can focus on as he stares up at his new owner is the echo of that padlock clicking.
Forever.
It’s locked thereforever.
Oblivious to the overwhelming moment Carter has found himself trapped in, sir moves on to his next order of business. “Now, tell me the 3 rules from last night.”
Shit. Carter hurries through the scrambled thoughts in his brain, desperate to please this man. He doesn’t want to be bad. He doesn’t want a punishment.
“I will always call you sir. I – uh – I will always kneel unless told otherwise. And my body belongs to you. Only you. Only you can give me orders, and I have to – to obey without hesitation.” Carter bites his bottom lip before quickly adding, “But I have to be respectful to everyone, sir.”
“And the new rule regarding the bed?”
“I’m not allowed to leave it without permission, sir. Unless it’s to use the bathroom.”
