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Carter shakes his head. “No. He knocked me out. I never would have called Maison, even if I had been…raped.” Carter’s tongue twists at the end of his sentence, findingrapesuch an inadequate word for what it really is.
Then again, there really is no word that could possibly encompass what the act itself does to a person.
“I knew that number was for life-or-death emergencies. But I woke up in the hospital, and they had already called him.” Carter shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have kept it in my wallet.”
Sir sits with the information for a long time.
Feeling uneasy, Carter adds, “He begged me to come stay with him for a while. He threatened to drag me with him, but I told him it was fine. There was no way that bastard was going to come after me again, and I still had finals to take. I told him I’d be more careful. No more staying out late and drinking. No more shortcuts through alleys.”
It’s not until that moment, when the words are dissipating in the muggy air around them, that Carter realizes it.
His eyes fall closed, his heart sinking. “That’s how you found me, isn’t it?”
The tension that ripples through sir’s body is answer enough. “I’m not who found you, Scott Quinton did. But yes, he used that initial call as his starter point.”
“Guess I can’t be mad at Maison after all.”
Sir dips his hands in the water, cupping the warm liquid palm. He raises them over Carter’s chest and gently pours until the bubbles on Carter’s skin are washed away. “It wasn’t your fault, sweetheart.”
“Yes, it was.”
“With the resources your brother has at his disposal, he could have forced you against your will to leave campus. He knew he had been compromised with that phone call. There’s no way he didn’t know. He took a calculated risk and let you stay where you were. You didn’t get to take a calculated risk, because you weren’t given the information to calculate. That’s not on you.”
Carter stares down at the water. With the bubbles fading, he can see their legs wound together beneath the surface. He can see his soft cock. His bruised knees.
“I’m glad the man didn’t rape you,” sir says softly.
A sudden flash of anger pushes Carter to snap, “Why? Because you wouldn’t have been able to take my virginity in front of a cheering crowd otherwise?”
Sir’s fingers dig into Carter’s skin for just a second before relaxing. He clears his throat twice. When he speaks, his voice is husky and low. “You were a virgin? Before I – before the auction, you were a virgin?”
Suddenly feeling vulnerable and exposed, Carter shrugs. Then he nods.
“Christ,” sir rasps, the words so soft Carter’s not entirely sure if he didn’t imagine them entirely.
Carter gasps when sir turns him without warning, easily manhandling Carter until he’s straddling sir’s lap. Carter tries to hold completely still, waiting for the pain to come. He pissed sir off.Of coursehe did. He didn’t address him properly. He wasn’t respectful. He snapped at him. Carter deserves to be punished.
Except… sir doesn’t hurt him. He doesn’t yell at him. He doesn’t even glare at him. No, all sir does is lift Carter’s chin with his fingers, forcing Carter to look into his warm brown eyes. “I’m sorry this happened to you. I’m sorry thatIhappened to you. None of this was fair. It wasn’t right. I am so sorry, sweetheart.”
“Then why?” Carter chokes, desperate to understand. “If you feel that way, then why would you do it? Why buy me? Rape me? Keep me?”
“Because if not me, someone else would.” Sir strokes Carter’s cheek, almost looking…sad.
In case Carter was still doubting himself, he’s sure now. He’s absolutely going crazy.
“You could let me go,” Carter suggests, knowing it’s no use.
Sir smiles, chuckling softly. It’s not a mean response. It’s not even angry. It’s just a fact. A sad acceptance. Defeat. “As much as I’m willing to admit here, with you, in private, that this situation sucks for you and I wish your life could be different, I would never risk my status in this world for you. I’m not a good man, sweetheart. You’re valuable to me. A symbol of power. A fuck you to your brother. A gift to offer when I need the upper hand. A thing to use for my own pleasure. Nothing more.”
The words do something awful to Carter, each syllable digging and digging until they reach his bare soul. Everything twists and darkens.
Nothing more.
He knew that. Of course he knew that. He’s a fucking sex slave to this man.
But hearing him say it so casually… ithurts.
It hurts really fucking bad.
