He might have to repeat that a few times, since it seemed it was a foreign concept to Jathan. He reached out a hand, but the boy stepped back. Shock passed over his face, and then his jaw hardened as if he was bracing himself for the consequences. Ford dropped his hand and smiled at him. Poor boy, so scared. He’d have to remember not to touch him if he hated it so much.

  “I’ll be back in about an hour and a half, okay? Grab whatever you need from the kitchen. I’ll make you dinner when I get back. Something light,” he said with a nod to Thierry.

  He got the barest of nods in response, and as he got into his car and backed out of the garage, his heart was heavy. How long would it take before these two would trust him?

  7

  Thierry kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. It had been four days, and Master Ford had been nothing but nice. He hadn’t gotten upset when he’d puked all over his bathroom floor. He hadn’t gotten upset when he’d heard how many medical issues Thierry and Jathan had between the two of them. He hadn’t gotten upset when they did little more than sleep, eat, relax, and then sleep, eat, and relax some more. But at some point, the Dom would have to show his real colors, right?

  They’d talked to the cop who had shown up the day before and had sat down with them for an hour, getting the first details. Well, Jathan had talked, and Thierry had nodded whenever the cop had asked him to confirm because his voice still wouldn’t work. Jathan had shared facts without any emotion, as if it had happened to someone else. Sometimes, it felt like it had, like it wasn’t real.

  The cop had asked more questions, but Jathan had shut down, claiming he was too tired to talk any longer, and the cop had accepted it. He’d be back for more details once they had recovered a bit, he’d said. As soon as he’d left, Jathan had sent Thierry a look of disgust and had retreated to his room.

  But other than that, they hadn’t done a single thing—not for themselves nor for Master Ford. Nothing. Aside from that first day, when Thierry had waited for him in the kitchen, naked and kneeling, he hadn’t served Master Ford in any way, and neither had Jathan.

  That couldn’t be enough for Master Ford. The man had taken them in because he thought he’d get two submissives. He wouldn’t be content with two lazy, broken ones who only cost him money and gave him nothing in return.

  Also—and Thierry had never expected to feel this way—he missed it. He missed serving. Wasn’t that the most fucked-up thing ever? How could he miss anything about Master Guido after what the man had done to them? And yet as he got up on the fourth day, showered and dressed, then headed down, he felt lost. Without a purpose.

  Recovering was all well and good, but he wasn’t doing anything. He felt like a leech, like a parasite, sucking Master Ford dry. It didn’t make sense because Master Ford hadn’t asked anything of him, kept telling them to relax, to sleep and rest. Why wasn’t he demanding them to serve him? What good were they to him if he didn’t use them? Something was wrong here, but Thierry couldn’t figure out what.

  Jathan sat in the kitchen, eating an orange, an empty bowl in front of him. He’d had yogurt again. He was so much smarter than Thierry, always choosing the healthy stuff, the foods that would help his body heal rather than what tasted good. Or maybe that stuff did taste good to him. It wasn’t like Thierry was gonna ask that. He wasn’t asking anything these days. Hadn’t in months.

  He made a sound in lieu of a greeting, and Jathan looked up from the comic book he’d been reading. He didn’t say anything, but his expression spoke volumes, and Thierry cringed. When had his mere existence become a source of anger for Jathan? His shoulders hung low as he opened the fridge and, after a brief hesitation, took out the Greek yogurt. If he wanted to get stronger, he’d have to make good choices.

  But when he started cutting some strawberries into little pieces, Jathan made a sound of annoyance. “Why do you always have to copy everything I do? Are you gonna be the little kiss ass here as well? The one who brownnoses Master so he treats you better?”

  Thierry’s eyes brimmed with tears. Why did Jathan always have to be so mean to him? They’d been so close at first, and Jathan had been his sun, his only hope. He’d loved him, and he still did, but everything had changed, and he’d lost him. Would Jathan ever forgive him? He sniffed, then wiped away a tear.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, quit crying. Master Guido may have liked it when you cried, but I don’t. ‘You’re so beautiful when you cry,’” Jathan said, mocking Master Guido’s tone.

  “Jathan!”

  Master Ford’s voice held shock but also rich authority, and Thierry sunk to his knees at the same time as Jathan slid off his chair and hit the floor. Thierry clasped his hands behind his back, his head bowed. This was it. This was when Master Ford would show them what he was capable of. His heart raced, his palms growing slick with sweat. What would he do to them?

  Master Guido had often punished them for talking to each other. He wanted them to be silent unless he gave permission to speak. They had only talked when he’d been at work, those glorious hours of reprieve, even when they’d had to work hard to finish all their chores on time. That was back when Thierry had still talked, when his voice had still been connected to his brain. Before Master Guido had… Before that.

  Master Ford’s footsteps came closer, and Thierry held his breath, pinching his eyes shut. He couldn’t flinch. Flinching made the punishment ten times worse. He’d learned to sit immobile, like a statue, no matter what Master Guido did to him.

  So when Master Ford’s big hand landed on his head, he sat motionless, not reacting in any way. “Good boy,” Master Ford spoke, his voice warm and kind. “You’re beautiful when you kneel, boy.”

  Had he deliberately used the same phrasing as Jathan had? Was he taunting him? It didn’t feel like it, but Thierry knew better than to trust his feelings. Master Ford caressed Thierry’s head, gentle and careful, as if testing the waters. Thierry held posture, even though his mind was racing. What the hell was Master Ford up to? Paying him compliments? No way that was real. He couldn’t mean that. Could he? It had to be to make him relax, to get him to lower his guard so he could strike.

  But he didn’t. Thierry sat as still as he could as that big, strong hand rubbed his head, letting his hair slide through his fingers, scratching his neck. Thierry’s eyes filled with tears all over again. When was the last time someone had touched him like this? So sweet and kind, so gentle. Master Guido, probably, in the first two days Thierry had been with him. That had been the only time too. Two years. That was how long it had been since someone had touched him in any other way than to hurt. Two years.

  Master Ford stepped in front of Thierry now. He was wearing those weird socks again, the fluffy ones with the white sheep and one black sheep in between. “Do you think you could look at me, Thierry?” Master Ford asked.

  Thierry hesitated. Was that a trick question? Master Ford slid his hand from Thierry’s head to his chin, and Thierry forced himself to stay still. Was he gonna choke him? Instead, Master Ford placed his index finger under Thierry’s chin and put slight pressure on it to tilt it upward. It was so gentle that if Thierry had wanted to, he could’ve resisted it. Instead, he gave in and allowed Master Ford to raise his chin until their eyes met.

  His green eyes were pools of kindness, friendlier than Thierry could’ve ever imagined, and something warm took root deep inside him. Thierry kept his gaze fixed on Master Ford as he let go of Thierry’s chin and brought his thumb to Thierry’s cheek, then brushed away a tear.

  “There are different kinds of tears, and a good Dom would know the difference. Tears of release, of letting go, tears of endorphin-rich pain or of surrender—those are beautiful tears. Tears of emotional suffering, of pain for the sake of pain. Those are tears a Dom should never want to see, let alone desire or reward.”

  His words were like honey, so sweet and rich Thierry could taste them on his tongue. “Yes, Sir,” he said.

  Master Ford’s hand stilled for a moment before it resumed, and now it was Thierry who froze. He’d spoken again. Two words, words so deeply ingrained they came automatically, but he’d said them. Those last months, he hadn’t managed even that for Master Guido.

  “Such a good boy, Thierry. I love hearing your voice.”

  Happiness and fear welled up inside him at the same time. The words were like the sun to him, drawing him in like nectar would a bee. But could he trust it? Could he trust him? He shouldn’t. Trust was dangerous. Potentially deadly. But god, how he wanted to.

  He couldn’t say a word now, couldn’t voice any of the confusing thoughts in his head. Instead, he smiled. Wasn’t it amazing he still knew how to do that too? He hadn’t smiled in months, maybe longer, but his muscles remembered.

  Master Ford smiled back. “What a beautiful smile. Thank you for that gift. Tell me, Thierry, do you like being on your knees?”

  Thierry blinked. What kind of question was that? This man was so confusing with his questions, with his kindness and considerate acts. Nothing about him made sense. Did he like being on his knees? How the fuck could he answer that? His smile faltered. Did he? Aside from Master Guido and how nothing had ever been good enough to please him, good enough to avoid punishment, had he liked being on his knees? Serving him?

  He had. He’d come to that exact same conclusion not a half hour ago, that he missed serving, missed feeling useful, missed…being on his knees. Yes, he did like that. He loved it. He always had, way before he’d met Master Guido.

  This time, it wasn’t a reflexive answer. This time, he spoke deliberately. “Yes, Sir.”

  Master Ford leaned in, moving slowly and giving Thierry every opportunity to pull away. When Thierry didn’t, Master Ford’s smile widened, and he kissed him on his head. “Well done. I’m proud of you, boy. Can you stay in position for me a little longer?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  One last rub over his head and then Master Ford stepped back. Thierry dropped his head, looking at the floor, but his heart was as warm as his body. Never had the simple act of kneeling brought him this much pleasure. Master Ford had said he was proud of him. For once in his life, Thierry had gotten it right.

  But what would Master Ford do to Jathan? Thierry couldn’t stand by if he beat him. He’d have to say something, do something. If he stayed silent again, any hope of Jathan ever forgiving him would be gone. And that thought wiped out all happiness and warmth from his heart.

  8

  Jathan had always hated kneeling. It was uncomfortable at first and outright painful if he had to do it for an extended period of time. But he’d gotten used to it with the monster, and his knees had developed thick skin, maybe literally. He could kneel for hours before it became too painful. Even when he’d become so skinny every touch had hurt his fragile skin, he’d still kneeled with little discomfort.

  But now, his body hurt. He’d kneeled for, what, maybe five minutes while Ford was rewarding Thierry for being a total kiss ass, and his knees ached. His entire body did. How was that even possible after four days? And of course, he couldn’t clasp his hands behind his back since it put way too much strain on his shoulder. So he held that arm low behind his back, hoping against all hope it would satisfy Ford.

  Once again, Thierry had fucked him over. A devious shit, that was what Thierry was. He used that innocent look he had to get their Master's attention, to make him like him, milking it for all it was worth. And Ford seemed as susceptible to it as the monster had been. How could Jathan have ever thought he loved Thierry? He fucking hated him. Both of them. He hated everyone.

  “Please rise,” Ford said, and Jathan blinked a few times, his eyes trained on the floor. He’d misheard, right? Or had Ford misspoken? No way had he asked Jathan to get off his knees. That made zero sense.

  “Jathan, get up. I won’t have a conversation with you while you’re on your knees. We need to have this one while we’re on equal footing.”

  He swallowed. “I don’t understand. Why is Thierry still kneeling, then?”

  Insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. Which meant he was insane because he should know by now that talking back to a Dom after he’d given him an order meant punishment. He’d just all but invited Ford to discipline him, so what the fuck was wrong with him? Why could he never keep his mouth shut? At least he hadn’t been stupid enough to look him in the eyes while doing it.

  “Because unlike you, Thierry derives pleasure from kneeling for me. You hate it.”

  Jathan opened his mouth, then closed it again. He frowned. Why would Ford say that? How would he possibly know what Jathan did or didn’t like? “I don’t hate it.”

  “I disagree, but that’s another discussion. For now, can you do as I asked you?”

  Jathan’s head was full of words, of questions, but he forced himself to stay quiet as he rose to his feet, keeping his gaze downcast.

  “Thank you.”

  No “good boy” for him, then. See, that was why he hated Thierry so much. He always got the praise and the compliments, and when Jathan did exactly the same, he got nothing. Well, he’d gotten a “thank you,” technically, but it didn’t feel the same. Not that it should matter what Ford said to him or how he thought of him. He shouldn’t want those words in the first place, since they were meaningless and empty.

  “Grab a seat, Jathan. This may take a while.”

  Jathan stole a glance at Thierry, still on his knees. Would Ford keep him on his knees the whole time? That would hurt. Thierry didn’t have his stamina, his endurance. He’d never had to. Should Jathan say something? He had already talked back to Ford and gotten away with it. Chances were that wouldn’t happen a second time, but he couldn’t let Thierry kneel for that long. He’d have to keep an eye on him and speak up if he saw that Thierry got tired.

  He didn’t say a word as he sat down. His orange was still on the plate, the knife carelessly thrown down when he’d hit the floor.

  “Finish your food,” Ford said.

  Jathan had expected him to sit down as well, but he didn’t. Instead, he walked over to the kitchen counter, where Thierry sat kneeling, and grabbed the strawberries, yogurt, and granola Thierry had put out for himself. After taking a knife from the kitchen drawer and putting a small plate on the table, Ford found a chair.

  He didn’t speak, but took the knife and chopped the top off a strawberry, then deftly cut it into smaller pieces and put it in the bowl. Jathan cut a section of the orange off and took a bite. God, these were so good. So juicy and flavorful, the perfect balance between sweet and acidic. It helped him wake up because he was tired, so tired. How much had he slept in the last two nights, maybe five, six hours? He’d tossed and turned, too scared to surrender to the pull of sleep.

  He’d catch a nap later if possible. For some reason, he had no trouble sleeping on the couch or in one of the chairs where it was light and warm. And where Thierry was, though why his presence made him feel safer, Jathan had no clue. Probably a weird leftover from before Thierry had stabbed him in the back. That was when they had been close. Inseparable, leaning on each other. Hell, they’d loved each other, but in hindsight, that had all been a lie. Stockholm syndrome or some shit.

  Ford cut up another strawberry. “Care to tell me what just happened?”

  Jathan took his time chewing. Ford and his infernal questions. The man rarely assumed something. He always asked. Checked. Wanted them to explain. But how did he talk his way out of this one? “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Ford merely lifted an eyebrow. “Nice try, boy, but you know that won’t fly. You'll need to explain what happened.”

  How did he do that? With the monster, Jathan had learned to respond and obey out of fear. Disobedience came at a steep price, so he’d do as told out of sheer self-preservation. But Ford made him want to answer. He made him yearn to obey, just because…because why?

  That was the part Jathan couldn’t figure out. Was it guilt for everything the man had done for them? A sense of gratitude? A weird need to repay him? It had to be something like that, but it annoyed the fuck out of him. He didn’t want to obey any Master this effortlessly. Obedience was dangerous.

  “Thierry annoyed me,” Jathan said.

  Ford finished cutting the last few strawberries, then added yogurt and a bit of granola to the bowl. “Come here, sweetheart,” he said over his shoulder, and Thierry came crawling over.

  Ford pushed his chair back a little, then pointed at a spot between his legs. Thierry came closer and kneeled between Ford’s legs. The look he gave him as he dragged his gaze off the floor was pure devotion. Thierry was such an idiot. He always believed the best of people. It would get him hurt, if not killed one day. Hadn’t he learned anything from their experience with that monster?

  Ford scratched Thierry’s neck, then rubbed his head. “Such a good boy. Stay here for a moment, okay? I forgot something.”

  As soon as he’d gotten up and walked into the room, Jathan shot a sneering glance in Thierry’s direction. But the boy seemed completely peaceful and calm, a sense of wonder on his face that made Jathan forget about the angry words on his tongue. What was happening here? Was Thierry really naïve enough to believe this was real, that how Ford showed himself now was the real him? Fucking moron.

  Ford came back, carrying a big pillow, which he dropped on the floor. “Kneel on that, sweetheart.”

  Thierry obeyed, and the gratitude on his face only intensified. A few kind words, a gentle touch, and a pillow to kneel on, that was all it had taken to get Thierry’s devotion and affection. Jathan wouldn’t fall for it. This wasn’t real, and it would never last.

  Ford scooped up a spoonful of yogurt and held it out to Thierry. “Open up.”

  Thierry did, and Jathan’s insides clenched as he watched Thierry getting fed. Not only was Ford giving them all the food they wanted, but he was feeding them? Yeah, no shit this was a ruse. They were supposed to serve him, to cater to his every need, not the other way around.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34