HOME | DD

Description
Warning: Story contains kidnapping, bondage, and themes of slavery.

"I honestly wonder sometimes how someone as idiotic as you survived to adulthood. I really, honestly do. You are either the single stupidest human being to ever walk the earth, or you simply go out of your way to do the exact opposite of what you're told."

Brandon whimpered, very softly, though he knew he wasn't the one being yelled at.

"You're just lucky your toy happens to be stronger than most, or you'd be up on murder charges by now," Sir continued, every word dripping acid and disdain.

"But he-"

"It is not to blame for the fact that you have the self-control of a bitch in heat!" Sir interrupted. "Now sit down and shut up- I need to figure out how to solve this without killing you."

Through his lashes, Brandon saw movement, as Jack sat heavily in one of the metal folding chairs. He glanced up, then immediately back down when the basement's third occupant turned toward him. As terrified as he was of Jack, Brandon was even more scared of Sir, and he'd rather die than give the man any reason to 'discipline' him.

Footsteps moved toward him, and Brandon flinched, closing his eyes tightly.

Sir touched his chin, pushing it gently upward. "Open your eyes."

Brandon obeyed instantly.

"Good boy." Sir had a habit of treating him like a dog. A particularly stupid one. He seemed to have a low opinion of anyone who wasn't him, especially those he considered 'toys'. "Did your idiot master hurt you, poor boy? Don't worry- I'll be certain he takes me lessons to heart from now on."

To be honest, Brandon would rather Jack stay impulsive and physically violent. It was easier to hold onto himself. He'd seen what Sir could do to a person, how completely he could break them without laying a finger on them; at least with Jack's constant abuse, he was able to stay himself.

"This will require some fairly intense training," Sir continued, turning and pacing away. "And definitely separation. If I leave you alone with your toy much longer, you'll probably kill it."

Jack made a noise of protest, but didn't actually say anything. Even he was afraid of Sir.

"I'll find someone to take care of it," Sir said, hauling Jack to his feet and pushing him toward the stairs. "You and I are going to go on a trip. Go pack yourself a bag. Clothing and toiletries only. Ash."

Ash stepped away from the wall, standing almost at attention. Brandon had met him before, at least twice, but never heard him speak or seen any expression other than passive adoration on his face. He was Sir's personal toy, and the very sight of him sent shivers of fear down Brandon's spine.

"Go with him and make sure he does as he's told, dear."

Ash nodded, wordlessly following Jack up the basement steps and back onto the main floor, leaving Brandon alone with Sir.

"I have good news for you," Sir said, walking back to Brandon and kneeling in front of him. "You're going to get out of this basement for a while. And with even the most basic luck, those who borrow you won't be nearly as cruel to you as that moron. I'm sure the change will be welcome. Stand up."

For reasons Brandon had never been able to fathom, Sir always insisted that Brandon's restraints be minimal whenever he came to visit. Generally, he'd order Jack to keep them to handcuffs and maybe ankle restraints of some kind- today was just handcuffs, secured behind him. With the help of the wall, Brandon was able to stand fairly easily.

Sir took hold of the front of his shirt and led him to the foot of the stairs, instructing him to kneel. Brandon obeyed so hastily that he probably bruised one of his knees.

"Easy, boy," Sir said, laughing and patting Brandon on the head. "I'm not going to hurt you. Now, while I have utmost faith in your obedience, there are rules to be followed. Close your eyes."

Brandon did as he was told, holding completely still. These past few months gave him enough familiarity with shackles to recognize a pair being secured around his ankles, and though the cold steel made him want to shiver, he resisted. Something touched his lips, and he parted them. Silk. A plain cleave gag, not even knotted.

Sir praised him insultingly, ruffling his hair, then pushed him so he sat with his back and arms pressed against the stair rail.

"Now please be quiet- I need to make a phone call." The sound of a phone being dialed, silence, then- "I have one to submit to the Madame. Location is 815 Crestview Lane. Yes, I know, but you love me, so you'll come get it anyway, right? Male, 36, probably around 200 pounds. It's quite docile, actually, rather like a rabbit in bear's clothing. Handsome, too. It'll be in the basement, at the foot of the stairs; I'll leave the key where it can be found, and the back door unlocked. Yes, I do."

Parts of the call had been pretty cryptic, but Brandon had recognized Jack's address and a very basic description of himself. He couldn't help a pleading mewl welling up in his throat, despite his best attempts to squash it. For all he knew, he was being sold off to a fate even worse than spending the rest of his life in Jack's basement. He hadn't thought he could be any more frightened than he already was, but he'd sure as hell just proven himself wrong there.

"Be good, boy," Sir said, kissing the top of Brandon's head. "Once I've retrained your owner you'll come back to him, and you'll be just as happy as my little Ash. I need to go now, but you won't be alone long."

He moved away and up the stairs, humming to himself. Brandon drew his legs up, resting his forehead on his knees, and managed to keep from crying until the door above him closed.

Description
Warning: Story contains kidnapping, bondage, and themes of slavery.

"I honestly wonder sometimes how someone as idiotic as you survived to adulthood. I really, honestly do. You are either the single stupidest human being to ever walk the earth, or you simply go out of your way to do the exact opposite of what you're told."

Brandon whimpered, very softly, though he knew he wasn't the one being yelled at.

"You're just lucky your toy happens to be stronger than most, or you'd be up on murder charges by now," Sir continued, every word dripping acid and disdain.

"But he-"

"It is not to blame for the fact that you have the self-control of a bitch in heat!" Sir interrupted. "Now sit down and shut up- I need to figure out how to solve this without killing you."

Through his lashes, Brandon saw movement, as Jack sat heavily in one of the metal folding chairs. He glanced up, then immediately back down when the basement's third occupant turned toward him. As terrified as he was of Jack, Brandon was even more scared of Sir, and he'd rather die than give the man any reason to 'discipline' him.

Footsteps moved toward him, and Brandon flinched, closing his eyes tightly.

Sir touched his chin, pushing it gently upward. "Open your eyes."

Brandon obeyed instantly.

"Good boy." Sir had a habit of treating him like a dog. A particularly stupid one. He seemed to have a low opinion of anyone who wasn't him, especially those he considered 'toys'. "Did your idiot master hurt you, poor boy? Don't worry- I'll be certain he takes me lessons to heart from now on."

To be honest, Brandon would rather Jack stay impulsive and physically violent. It was easier to hold onto himself. He'd seen what Sir could do to a person, how completely he could break them without laying a finger on them; at least with Jack's constant abuse, he was able to stay himself.

"This will require some fairly intense training," Sir continued, turning and pacing away. "And definitely separation. If I leave you alone with your toy much longer, you'll probably kill it."

Jack made a noise of protest, but didn't actually say anything. Even he was afraid of Sir.

"I'll find someone to take care of it," Sir said, hauling Jack to his feet and pushing him toward the stairs. "You and I are going to go on a trip. Go pack yourself a bag. Clothing and toiletries only. Ash."

Ash stepped away from the wall, standing almost at attention. Brandon had met him before, at least twice, but never heard him speak or seen any expression other than passive adoration on his face. He was Sir's personal toy, and the very sight of him sent shivers of fear down Brandon's spine.

"Go with him and make sure he does as he's told, dear."

Ash nodded, wordlessly following Jack up the basement steps and back onto the main floor, leaving Brandon alone with Sir.

"I have good news for you," Sir said, walking back to Brandon and kneeling in front of him. "You're going to get out of this basement for a while. And with even the most basic luck, those who borrow you won't be nearly as cruel to you as that moron. I'm sure the change will be welcome. Stand up."

For reasons Brandon had never been able to fathom, Sir always insisted that Brandon's restraints be minimal whenever he came to visit. Generally, he'd order Jack to keep them to handcuffs and maybe ankle restraints of some kind- today was just handcuffs, secured behind him. With the help of the wall, Brandon was able to stand fairly easily.

Sir took hold of the front of his shirt and led him to the foot of the stairs, instructing him to kneel. Brandon obeyed so hastily that he probably bruised one of his knees.

"Easy, boy," Sir said, laughing and patting Brandon on the head. "I'm not going to hurt you. Now, while I have utmost faith in your obedience, there are rules to be followed. Close your eyes."

Brandon did as he was told, holding completely still. These past few months gave him enough familiarity with shackles to recognize a pair being secured around his ankles, and though the cold steel made him want to shiver, he resisted. Something touched his lips, and he parted them. Silk. A plain cleave gag, not even knotted.

Sir praised him insultingly, ruffling his hair, then pushed him so he sat with his back and arms pressed against the stair rail.

"Now please be quiet- I need to make a phone call." The sound of a phone being dialed, silence, then- "I have one to submit to the Madame. Location is 815 Crestview Lane. Yes, I know, but you love me, so you'll come get it anyway, right? Male, 36, probably around 200 pounds. It's quite docile, actually, rather like a rabbit in bear's clothing. Handsome, too. It'll be in the basement, at the foot of the stairs; I'll leave the key where it can be found, and the back door unlocked. Yes, I do."

Parts of the call had been pretty cryptic, but Brandon had recognized Jack's address and a very basic description of himself. He couldn't help a pleading mewl welling up in his throat, despite his best attempts to squash it. For all he knew, he was being sold off to a fate even worse than spending the rest of his life in Jack's basement. He hadn't thought he could be any more frightened than he already was, but he'd sure as hell just proven himself wrong there.

"Be good, boy," Sir said, kissing the top of Brandon's head. "Once I've retrained your owner you'll come back to him, and you'll be just as happy as my little Ash. I need to go now, but you won't be alone long."

He moved away and up the stairs, humming to himself. Brandon drew his legs up, resting his forehead on his knees, and managed to keep from crying until the door above him closed.