Note: For complete heading info, please refer to Chapter 01.
When Neal swam to consciousness, he was confused. He remembered being at June's in the studio, but he couldn't remember what had happened. His head was throbbing with what reminded him of the sedative drugs he'd been given years ago, before he belonged to Peter and Elizabeth. When he tried to move, he panicked because his arms were strapped to his bare chest. The panic brought everything crashing back to him and he snapped his eyes open, looking around wildly.
"Ah, you're finally awake, boy," a voice came from his left and he twisted to see who was talking. "It's a pity that we don't get to keep you at the facility longer. You're a pretty one despite your age. But your new owner already had things arranged and I've been given a significant bonus to ensure everything is handled properly in your transfer."
Neal tried to talk, but the man curtailed any sound he could make by pressing a button on a controller in his hand. A second later, Neal felt electrical current pass through his body, centered on his throat. He screamed, unable to hold back his pain.
"How do you like your new collar? It's the latest edition for challenging slaves. Mainly used on the manual laborers, but certain clientele with sex slaves have a use for it too. Your new owner wanted it installed as soon as you were delivered to us."
Neal wanted to ask what was happened. He wanted to know where Peter and Elizabeth were. He wanted to know why a man with an FBI badge had been the one to take him away from everything he had known. But the lingering feeling of the electricity kept his mouth shut.
"Let's get started, shall we," the man said as he moved toward Neal's naked body. Neal flinched when the hands touched his skin. "Shy," the man commented with a chuckle. "You've been spoiled for too long, boy. Slaves aren't supposed to flinch, especially sex slaves like you."
Neal fought his urge to struggle as the man pulled him sideways and then delivered a slap to his ass. He took pride that he didn't let out a sound at the unwanted smack.
"You deserve more than that, but I'm supposed to deliver you mark free. At least the FBI agent promised to clear me of any wrongdoing for the bruise you're getting on your arm. He said you didn't want to go peacefully. I say it's a good thing those former owners of yours were arrested. Too bad they can't be charged with improper handling and training of their slave."
Neal's heart stopped. He ignored the way the man was maneuvering him into a packing crate. Instead, he focused the words the man had just said. Peter and Elizabeth had been arrested. They were the most law-abiding people that Neal had ever met. They didn't even hurt slaves, which was practically unheard of. But their arrest would explain why he was at a slave facility. All slaves were subject to confiscation and resell if their owners were incarcerated.
If the man was to be believed, legally he was no longer Peter and Elizabeth's. Their joint arrests would have terminated their ownership of him. He was part of the system again and apparently already sold without ever being put on the floor showroom. It was a nightmare and he had no way to fight it.
Neal focused back on the shipping crate when the man instructed him to take the deep breath for the additional packing foam. Apparently, ten years hadn't changed the shipping process at all. The dildo was firmly in his ass and there was a breathing tube in his mouth. Neal could feel tears gathering in his eyes and he fought to not let them fall underneath the hood that was pressing against his face from the final foam being poured around him.
He'd had ten perfect years and now it was over. His new owner had already revealed his preferences with the shock collar and Neal was afraid that his life would end in pain and misery and that he would never see Peter and Elizabeth again.
Neal lost track of time as the shipping crate was transported to his new owner. He tried to focus on breathing and not panicking at every bump that the vehicle hit in the road. What didn't help his peace of mind was his body's natural reaction to the stimulation from the dildo. He wanted to believe that after years of only being with Peter and Elizabeth that he had lost the training that had been forced on him at an early age. But time hadn't allowed his body to forget.
The cock cage was pressing firmly against the erection that he was trying to sport without his consent. That fact alone had him longing for a way out. It felt as if he was betraying Peter and Elizabeth by reacting to something other than them. However, he would have to learn to live with it since he was going to a new owner.
Sometime later, he felt the tilt of being loaded onto a dolly. Then he could feel a sinking feeling from what had to be a fast moving elevator. When all motions stopped, he waited, unsure of what to expect once his crate was opened. When he had arrived at Peter and Elizabeth's house, he'd been let out of the crate almost immediately, but this time, it was like he'd been delivered and forgotten.
Being locked inside the crate left Neal unable to tell the real passing of time, but he could judge by his body's needs. First was the parched throat. He remembered having a drink of water at June's, but that had been hours before the FBI agent had arrived. The facility had not given him anything beyond the liquid they shot up his ass to flush him out.
Next came the pressing need of his bladder. The last time he had wet himself had been during training. There had been a session where he'd been locked inside a cage until he had urinated; leaving him crouched in his own piss. His trainer had said he needed to be prepared for anything. It was beginning to look as if that anything had finally arrived.
Just as he was about to lose control of his bladder, Neal heard the latches being released on his crate. The moment he had been dreading was upon him and he tried not to panic. Part of him hoped that it was one long nightmare and that he would wake up with Peter and Elizabeth wrapped around him and Satchmo scratching at the door. But it wasn't to be.
Neal felt the foam being removed and the sides were lowered, freeing the encasement around his body. However, the hood was not removed and he jerked when he felt a hand trail up his back and linger over the tattoo that marked him as property. Then his head whipped to the side as a hand struck his face.
"Lesson one, boy," a man's sophisticated voice broke through the ringing in his ears. "You're mine and I'll do whatever I like with you."
Neal's hood was then ripped off of his head and the sudden burst of light left him disoriented. Soon, lean fingers were grasping his chin and tilting his head upward. He focused on the dark haired man above him. He was roughly Peter's age and though he looked handsome enough, his eyes had a glint in them that left Neal reeling at the reality of belonging to this man.
"I'll admit that I wasn't planning to keep you after you serve your purpose given your age, but seeing you outside of the photos I received, I may change my mind."
Neal had no idea what the man was talking about. But his new Master's intentions were terrifyingly clear.
"Kate! Take my new toy and get it cleaned up, inside and out. I want to have a little fun with it before we throw the party for Mr. Phelps at the end of the week."
Neal received another slap to his face, lighter this time, and then the man was gone. He was replaced by a dark haired slave girl, wearing nothing but heels, who prompted him to stand from the dildo still in his ass.
"Don't attempt anything, toy," she said softly as Neal darted his eyes around the empty room. "The Master is watching and he has the control for your collar."
Neal shuddered, remembering the course of electricity that had shot through his body. He did not want to repeat that if he could help it.
"I'm Neal," he said softly, planting a fake smile on his face. It wouldn't hurt to have someone on his side in the mess that had become his life.
"You're the Master's new toy, nothing more, nothing less. And toys do not talk without permission."
Neal bit back a sigh. He kept quiet as she attached a chain to his collar and led him from the room, her high heels clicking on the tiled floor. She took him into a small room that served as a slave washroom. Neal had learned of the rooms in his training, but his owners before Peter and Elizabeth hadn't required him to use one.
Neal allowed Kate to direct him from station to station in the room as she did the work her Master had ordered. First was the enema, a process that Neal had never enjoyed. Then he was shaved. Neal had never received full body hair removal treatment and while he liked to stay trimmed, his new Master wanted him smooth. Kate wielded a straight edged razor expertly over his genitals, but Neal still cringed at the thought of one slip of the blade.
Following a twenty-minute soak, Kate applied oil over his body, telling him that their Master liked to see a healthy shine. Once he was deemed presentable, Kate reattached the leash and led him to a new room. Judging by the implements hanging on the wall and the restraint horses and crosses around the room, Neal was going to hate his new home.
Instead of taking him to the cross like Neal had suspected, Kate had him stand in the center of the room. Then she pressed a button on the wall that lowered a set of cuffs from the ceiling. Neal didn't fight her as she placed his wrists in the restraints. When the button was pressed again, his arms were stretched above his head and pulled out to the side. Kate stopped the chains just short of pulling his feet from the floor. Then she cuffed a spreader bar to his ankles and left him spread-eagled in the room, awaiting his fate.
He didn't have to wait long. His Master strode into the room and began circling Neal. Occasionally, he would reach out to run his hand over Neal's body or pinch his nipples. Neal did his best not to flinch and to remember his training from long ago. It was a constant struggle, but the man didn't slap him again, for which Neal was grateful.
"I didn't expect much when I learned how old you were. Most slaves your age are ready to be put down instead of serving a man like me."
Neal's heart fluttered at the mention of death. His time with Peter and Elizabeth had softened him from the harsh realities of his slave status.
"But given how much work it took to secure you, putting you down after the show this weekend would have been a waste. Any other owner and I just would have tossed a handful of cash their way and I would have had you years ago like I originally planned. But for some reason those working class owners of yours turned down my offer. That left me little choice but to take an alternative route and ruin them in the process."
Neal couldn't believe what he was hearing. This man had arranged for something to happen to Peter and Elizabeth in order to gain ownership of him. Neal didn't even know that Peter and Elizabeth had received offers to buy him. The way the man was talking, Neal was suddenly more worried for Peter and Elizabeth than he was for himself.
"I did find it sweet that they called you by your real name instead of your proper designation DC80-456. And since they know your real name, you must have been the one to tell them. I don't see Peter Burke as the kind of agent that would have dug around in the slave database to dig up your history."
Neal wasn't sure what his history had to do with this man. Neal had been a slave since he was three years old and the man in front of him would have only been a teenager at the time.
"I love the confusion on your face, Neal George Bennett," the use of his full name, which he had forgotten over time caused him to gasp. Then he reeled from the hard slap that followed. His face was going to be bruised spectacularly.
"Being a slave as long as you've been means you should have better manners when around your superiors. But we'll have time to work on your behavior adjustments. Tonight, I want to tell you a little story about a man named Sam Phelps and how he didn't have the manners to know not to steal from me nine years ago. Then, you'll help me get revenge, because what man doesn't suffer when he sees his only son being tortured and fucked. You see, I did some research on Sam Phelps and it turns out he was a former cop named James Bennett. The man who killed a cop and then ran out on his wife and son, sentencing his son to a life in slavery when the Marshals told his wife they didn't allow kids under twelve in witness protection."
"No, no, no…" Neal had started chanting as the man laid the history he didn't remember out bare before him. Then he screamed as the electricity jolted his body from the collar.
"I'll have to pace myself over the next few days. I don't want you too tired for the big show on Saturday. You don't want to disappoint your dad after all."
Neal continued to scream; both from the pain and the realization that he was trapped in a nightmare he couldn't escape. He couldn't even count on Peter and Elizabeth to save him.