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Chapter One
Casey
I made a mistake.
I hadn’t meant to make it. Truly. I’m a good slave. I’ve learned how to behave, how to be damn near perfect, and how to take beatings even when I don’t deserve them. I’ve mastered the art of giving pleasure while receiving pain. I’ve learned not to make eye contact, not to speak unless spoken to, and not to think thoughts that my master wouldn’t approve of. Master told me I was not human anymore, just a slave, his slave, and I learned to believe that. To embrace it. To be the best possible slave I could be for him.
And then I saw Carter. Saw the face of a man I hadn’t seen since I was living in a cell waiting to be sold to the highest bidder. A face that made me feel human again. Feel like Casey again. Casey, son of the town sheriff. All-star swimmer. Life of the party. Loyal friend. Strong, brave, and caring. Casey, the guy who gave up his slice of bread to others despite his stomach caving in on itself from hunger. The guy who held sobbing boys and men close, comforting them as they waited to be sold even when no one was comforting him. The guy who was following his dad’s advice - keeping calm, breathing, paying attention, and waiting for his moment. The guy who believed that the bad guys would lose in the end.
Casey, the guy who told Carter and a little boy named Elliot that we would win.
I forgot.
For just a minute, I forgot that I was a slave. That I wasn’t a person. Wasn’t Casey.
I broke every rule. Defied my master. Wrapped my arms around Carter and held on like we could save each other if we just stayed there long enough.
I made a mistake.
And now I think I’m going to die because of it.
Man after man rapes and beats me at the party after I dared to hug Carter. 5. 10. 15. More, more, more. Master’s friends. Perfect strangers. Even a few slaves are forced by their masters to hurt or fuck me. Every time I manage to pass out, someone dumps melting ice over my face from one of the champagne buckets.
There’s no reprieve when the party ends. I’m not even given the kindness of getting a break while being transported, something impossibly big - a champagne bottle, I think - stuffed in my aching hole as a guard carries me to Master’s private jet. There, I’m immediately strapped down to the cabin bed so a rookie can clean me up with some wipes. Then the guards all take turns with me, the pain nearly blinding as they go two at a time since I’m too loose to enjoy individually. Even the pilot comes, the co-pilot taking over. Then the co-pilot takes a turn.
Master never comes to see me. Of course, he doesn’t. I don’t deserve his attention after what I did.
He doesn’t appear once we’re at his estate either. A guard drapes me over one shoulder, carrying my near-lifeless body off the plane and into the house. Cum and who knows what else drips out of my hole and down my legs. It feels like someone else’s body. Like I’m aware of the sensation, but I can’t feel it.
I’m brought straight to the dungeon. Just as I’m being strapped down to the leather spanking bench in the far corner, Master’s right-hand man, Raph, comes in. “The boss wants him kept awake and in pain. No rest. Not for a fucking second.”
“Easy enough,” the guard strapping me in says with a chuckle. They’re speaking in English, which means they want me to hear them. Want me to know what I’m in for.
And of course it’ll be easy. With over a dozen guards always working on the estate at any given time, master’s friends, and the toys they have in this place, there’s no way I’ll rest until they allow it.
I blink at the wall I’m facing, trying to feel panicked or sad or… anything. It’s strange that I’m so numb. So disconnected. Even when Master taught me my lessons on being a slave instead of human, I never felt like this. I was still in my body, still in my mind, just as a slave instead of as Casey.
But now? Now is… different.
I think that should scare me, but if it does, I can’t feel that either.
I blink again.
Something is attached to my balls, making me jerk in surprise. Then electricity is buzzing through them and I’m feeling everything all at once.
I scream.
The door of the dungeon creeks open, then slams shut. I roll my head to the side, cheek resting on the table I’ve been strapped to for what feels like a very long time now. The fucking machine continues working inside me, slow and steady. I learned quickly that it’s been programmed to change pace every 10 minutes to keep me from getting used to it. To keep me awake.
Raph hovers over me, his fingers starting to work the strap of the gag that’s been in my mouth since they left me here. I don’t let myself hope that he’ll remove the nipple clamps or the clothespins along my ribs or the electrodes on my balls. Someone else must be here with him because the fucking machine is turned off and the dildo is slowly removed. Someone pushes into my burning hole me as Raph tosses the gag to the side and starts undoing his pants.
“Please,” I whisper, my voice scratchy and thin. My mouth is so dry that my tongue sticks to the roof of it. I have to force it back down to continue talking. “Just kill me.”
Whoever is using my ass laughs cruelly. Raph presses his cock to my lips and smirks. “That would count as rest, wouldn’t it?”
The man in my ass flicks the clothespins along my side, making them jump and shake, but not break free. I scream into the cock in my mouth. They both laugh.
They switch to French, talking about who the fuck knows what. My one year of French in high school didn’t prepare me well for the kind of conversations they probably have. I can ask about the bathroom - which doesn’t matter, since I’m not allowed to use it without permission anyway - or say the colors of the rainbow - Master’s house isn’t very colorful, unless you count the brilliant red of my fresh blood - or ask for common things like water or bread or cheese - things I’d kill for, but know I won’t get no matter how I beg.
