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He waits to be told this is good, but all he gets is a curt nod. It hurts in a way Carter didn’t expect.
“Lean over. Forehead on the floor. Ass in the air.”
Ice runs through Carter’s veins as he forces his body into the position. This is it. Sir is going to fuck him now. Carter squeezes his eyes shut, clamping down on his bottom lip as he waits with his ass humiliatingly on display. He startles when a hand touches his hip.
Carter parts his lips, intending to apologize, but he quickly closes his mouth when he realizes he’s going to cry. Instead, he curls his finger until his nails dig into his palms and keeps himself in place. Every second afterward is torture as he waits to be yelled at.
But it never happens.
The familiar sound of a lube bottle being opened makes Carter’s stomach twist, but he manages to keep his body still.
Then, just like the night before, sir suddenly…softens. “Breathe for me, sweetheart.”
Carter squeezes his eyes shut even tighter, trying to force his muscles to relax. It doesn’t work so well if sir’s sigh is any indication. Surprisingly, though, the sound isn’t angry or frustrated. It’s almost…sad.
Or maybe that’s just Carter.
A finger rubs against Carter’s hole for a few seconds before sliding into him. Carter gasps, mostly out of surprise since he’s slightly open already from cleaning himself in the shower. Unfortunately, sir notices this as well and adds a second finger. Carter whimpers. If sir notices, he doesn’t say anything. He just continues opening Carter, his touch cold and clinical. When sir hooks his two fingers inside Carter’s rim and gently runs them along the edges to stretch him, Carter grits his teeth to stay silent.
“Relax,” sir reminds him, rubbing Carter’s left ass cheek with his free hand. Carter feels unshed tears soaking his lashes. He’s holding his breath, which he knows is why he’s so tense, but he can’t change it. He’s pretty sure the next breath he takes will be a sob. Sir won’t like that.
Sir’s two fingers slide out of Carter’s hole, but Carter doesn’t feel any sort of relief from it. He knows something more is coming. The man wouldn’t just finger him open for no reason. Carter still flinches when something impossibly big and heavy pushes at his hole. Sir doesn’t yell at him or spank him. He just runs a soothing hand along Carter’s spine. “Relax, remember? Relax for me, sweetheart. It’s just a plug. Slaves are meant to be plugged.”
More lube is drizzled over Carter’s hole. Then the plug starts pushing in. “Accept your plug, sweetheart. Be good for me.”
Breathing out through his nose, Carter forces himself to obey. He at least manages to relax enough to take the plug in. But the breath required to do so comes in the form of a choked sob, just as he had worried it would. He feels the man behind him go tense. Fear spikes in Carter’s chest as he tries to swallow any other sobs. He tries to ground himself by focusing on the plug in his ass instead. The burning. The aching. The pain is fading as it settles inside of him, making it uncomfortable, but no longer painful. It surprisingly helps to focus on that feeling. Particularly focusing on the weight of the plug. There’s something about its presence that’s almost…calming.
As calming as something can be in this fucked up situation.
“Sit up.”
Carter listens, quickly wiping his cheeks before sir can see. He was lucky not to be scolded for crying just now. He doesn’t want to push that luck. If sir is anything like the guards, he won’t want to deal with Carter’s emotions. He certainly hadn’t liked them last night when he caught Carter crying in the bathroom.
Sir reaches over to the dresser and grabs a leash. It’s new, like the collar. They match, both the same smooth black leather. Carter can’t help but flinch when he hears the click of the golden metal hook when it latches onto the ring at the front of his collar.
“Come.” Sir turns his back to Carter, taking a step toward the door. “Keep up.”
Carter starts to stand, only for sir to stop him with a hand on his shoulder that presses him down. Carter looks up to find the man scowling at him. “Did I say you could walk?”
“N-no, sir.”
“What’s rule number 2?”
“Kneel unless told otherwise, sir.”
“Thenlisten. That’s your one and only warning. Don’t fuck up in front of my men today.” Sir pauses, his eyes darting away. “They won’t be as forgiving.”
Swallowing a whimper, Carter forces himself to nod.
Sir tugs again. This time, Carter remains on the floor. He hurries along on his hands and knees, trying to keep up like he was told. He can feel the plug shifting inside of him with every movement. He can feel lube dripping down his left thigh.
It’s awful.
Humiliating.
Things only get worse when they leave the seemingly private hallway with sir’s suite and turn down a hall with an audience. The first man Carter is led past grins down at him. Carter immediately drops his head, realizing it’s safer if he just watches the floor instead of looking around. He’ll take the time to soak in the details of his new prison some other time. Not right now, as he’s busy trying to work his way through his suffocating emotions. One thing at a time.
The longer they move, the more Carter’s hands and knees ache. It’s harder than he thought to crawl. Especially on hardwood flooring, at the quick pace sir is keeping. Carter tries to focus on the pain like he had in the bedroom. It works for a little while.
