Storm. Section 1/2
Title: STORM (Number five in the ‘ MINE’ verse)
Description: NC-17. Alpha!Master!Jensen/Human!Slave!Jared. Sometimes, to reach the calm you have to travel through the storm.
This is a future!fic verse where humans are kept as slaves by a genetically engineered super-race (Alphas). It may be easier to understand with knowledge of the first four stories. (Click for MINE, SWEETIE, TRUST and HAPPY )
Wordcount: ~ 6.8K
Pairings: Jensen/Jared, Jensen/Genevieve, Jared/Genevieve
Warnings: Dark!fic, institutionalized slavery, explicit sexual situations, pet traits, bondage, slash(dub-con), Het(dub-con/non-con), humiliation, references to knotting and various types of flogging, D/s themes, s/m themes
Betas: Thanks to meus_venator and sylsdarkplace for making this better. All mistakes remain my own.
Disclaimer: This is fiction, pure fantasy folks. Nobody here belongs to me and they’re not likely to get in my van for candy any time soon.
Banner: The pretty, pretty banner has been made by meus_venator. There is more in the art post here. Go tell her how wonderful it is!
AN: This is a one-shot and the size of it is in line with the last four, posted in one-shot but since LJ has decided to screw with post sizes I've had to cut it in two *sigh*
For this instalment it might be useful for me to give a reminder that in Jared’s world discipline is routine beating/flogging and any D/s and s/m task his Master may assign his slave/pet to satisfy his sadistic and dominant alpha personality. A show pet is trained to welcome it, excels in it’s tolerance of pain, and is proud of its service. Punishment is only given as a result of disobedience and is especially shameful for a pet.
now available on A03 in one-shot and for pdf, ePUB etc but I'd still love to hear your feedback :D
STORM
Jared wasn't sure what time it was, but the moon had started out as a huge ball on the horizon and now it rode high, small in the vast sky. It gave a dull shine that flickered as clouds gathered and scudded below it. He let a tear slide down his cheek and it mingled with the rainwater that dripped from his sodden hair and lashed in on the harsh wind. He wanted to shake the water-heavy hair from his face, maybe shift a little on the gravel that gouged holes into his knees, but chains fixed him securely.
He only had one purpose, and he had failed. He had made his master unhappy, been the cause of his boiling rage. The punishment was merited, and he knew he should bear it with greater courage.
Vehicle lights shone briefly through the blackness of the night and strange noises made him startle and shudder. Jared used to be a show pet - a prize kept confined to the house or safely caged in transit, or in a show hall. There were brief playtimes in grassy gardens, several since being owned by Master Jensen, but never alone. Not ever. He had never been out at night, and he wasn’t sure what creatures roamed to prey on abandoned slaves. He wondered what part of him they would feast on first, how long it would take. Snot drained from his nose, and he sniffed. Shivers wracked his cold, wet and exhausted body, but he didn’t dare close his eyes for the fear of what lurked in the night. A storm was approaching and trees bent and swayed. A black shape stretched and chased towards him, and he whined in horror, behind the ball gag in his mouth, but it passed over him without a touch, just the shadow of an elm tree, struggling in the wind.
The sign dangling from a loop around his neck rattled against his chilled bare skin, and Jared was forced to acknowledge its presence once more. He broke into a sob and more tears slid down his cheek.
Recently he had started to wonder if this was what happened when pets got old. Maybe they went wrong and couldn't be fixed, like vehicles, but the reasons weren't important, only the result. This was his own fault and it wasn't the first time he had deserved Jensen’s punishment. What was different this time, was that he didn't think he could take it. Being ‘put-out’ was a fate that had been whispered among pets all his life, but he had never imagined that he would earn such a thing. “A brat acting-out,” is how Master Jensen had described him after the first and second incident. This time was different. This time, he was a “Manipulative, thieving shit,” and he’d pushed Master Jensen beyond all patience. This punishment was different, and he didn't think he was supposed to live through it, or that his Master would care when his body was gathered from the sharp stones for disposal.
Something tickled his leg as it crawled over his skin. Jared shook with the effort to dislodge it, but he was stuck in position, helpless. It trailed all the way up to the warmth of his balls and he gulped ragged breaths around the gag in his mouth.
Jared wasn’t sure how his rebellion had started, or even why. He wanted to make Jensen happy, was proud of the moments when he made him smile, or eased his natural alpha tension, and he knew the rules, even the ones that were unique to Jensen’s ownership. He was fortunate to belong to any household at his age, and Master Jensen cared well for him. His daily discipline was minimal, far less than he was used to and never more than he could bear. Master had even let him choose two items from the toy cupboard which would never be used. Jared had requested that the rubber suit and eyeless hood be removed, and his choice had been honored. Jared’s breath hitched and he gave a strangled sob as he realized that even now, when Master Jensen had every reason to torture him with those items, he didn’t.
A drawn out whistle startled him as air squeezed through the ornate brickwork of the house behind him. Jared’s nails dug into his palm, and his eyes became rounded. Dogs barked in the distance, and there was the drone of a large hover-cart passing near. He was hit with the sudden worry that there might be an early morning delivery. He was beyond remembering what day it was, or which days the milk and essential groceries were delivered. All he could think, in a loop, was, “Please, please, don’t let it be today.” The disgrace of being seen like this, of the permission for anybody to touch him, any stranger to add to his punishment, and maybe for one to make an offer to take him from his Master, was devastating.
There wasn’t a single noise or movement from the house. The lights were out, not even a night-light to comfort him, and the doors were locked. He hadn’t seen Master Jensen since morning, when he had dragged Jared on his knees, by his collar, to the most public part of the driveway, to chain him securely. His green eyes had flashed with fury as he tied the wooden sign around Jared’s neck and placed the cat ‘o nine tails by his side. Through it all Jensen hadn’t spoken a word to him.
Mike and Steve had passed him in their duties. They remained tight-lipped and carefully avoided looking at him. Master Christian had visited, and Jared’s face had burned red with shame when he stopped next to him, reached fingers to the sign as he read the stark words, “BAD PET”, and then dipped to whisper in his ear, “You stupid, stupid slave. Couldn’t learn, could you?” Christian had picked the whip from its hook and twisted the steel-laced strands in his hand, but he hadn’t struck Jared. He considered him for a while instead, and then traced fingers over his cheek. “I’m not going to hit you, pet. Seems to me you’re too far twisted to care, maybe even baiting Jensen for it, huh?” He had placed the cat back on its hook and walked away, and Jared had been disappointed. He ached to feel the bright hot pain and the flow of blood that would atone for his sins.
The moon disappeared entirely behind thick cloud and rain fell more heavily, cold drops stinging against his skin. It should have been small relief, something to focus on, but a gathering puddle soaked him with bitter chill, reminding him that his bladder was full, hadn’t been relieved for more than a day. He bit into the ball of his gag in frustration but he couldn’t hold back any longer. The piss streamed from him, formed stinking, steaming, warm currents in the water that pooled around him. He wrinkled his nose in disgust and moaned low and wretched. He remembered how it came to this:
The first time, it could have been considered a genuine mistake, something fueled by his wish to help. Mike and Steve had been struggling to move a heavy cabinet up stairs. He had been returning from the kitchen and had insisted on helping them. Despite their plea for him to remain on his knees, he had stood and heaved the solid wood item to its destination with them. He remembered the glow of exertion and the sense of achievement. For a few minutes he had basked in it. The extent of the cameras that monitored Jensen’s household should have occurred to him, but he hadn’t considered them, not until Steve and Mike screamed and dropped to the floor, clutching at their collars, which delivered a precisely measured shock.
Master Jensen had strung Mike and Steve up and made Jared watch as he gave twenty strikes of the belt to each. When he was finished with them, he strapped Jared down, forced his legs wide, and thrashed Jared’s cock and balls until he wailed and pleaded and promised that he would be good for Jensen.
Three days later, Master Jensen had paddled Jared’s ass until it was cherry red and stinging in the best way, and then reached to snatch the plug from his ass, to knot him hard and fast. Jared could give no adequate excuse for his panicked attempt to scramble away from him, or for the way his flailing hand had struck Jensen’s face.
He had cried like a baby for forgiveness, even before the first strike of willow against the soft flesh of his foot.
***
A bright flash of light tore across the night sky and a rumble started low in the distance. Jared’s eyelashes parted wide around eyes blown black in terror, and a tremble started at the tips of his toes and spread, until the whole of him shook uncontrollably and his teeth chattered around the gag in his mouth.
Jared struggled frantically, but it only made the metal chains bite into his skin, drawing pearls of blood which washed away in the deluge. Light flashed again and he counted in his head, a thousand and one, a thousand and two, a thousand and three, before the roar of thunder surrounded him. Jared longed for Jensen to rescue him but he knew he wouldn’t. Jared was a bad pet and he had been put-out. He was small and alone in the hostile night and it felt like he was shattering from the inside.
There seemed to be no time between the fading growl of thunder and the next lightning flash, which illuminated the open driveway he was exposed on. Jared flinched at the devastating CRACK that accompanied it. He was going to die and Jensen would never know how much the safety of his ownership had meant to him. He would only remember that Jared was a bad pet, had been difficult and defied basic rules. Jared hadn’t planned to be bad, but if he could go back and do it all again he would find a way to stop his foolish actions. He would make Jensen love him again. Jared fought back his tears, took a deep breath and waited for his fate.
He gradually became aware of a different, steady light approaching, and the sound of boots splashing on the driveway. A warm, dry hand grasped his shoulder and his chains were unfastened. “Jared, c’mon. Work with us here.” Jared squinted up at Master Christian’s concerned face. He tried to move his feet but they were stiff, the muscles frozen in place.
The next flash of lightning was blinding, and the rolling noise battered his eardrums. He felt Master Christian’s hands grip his shoulders as the alpha crouched low to cover him from the storm, and there were other hands too, reaching to hold him. “Gonna have to carry him,” he heard his Master say.
There was movement and a sensation of weightlessness as he was hefted over Master Jensen’s shoulder. All alphas are stronger than their size suggests and Jensen was in his prime, toned and fit. He ran through the storm to the door of the house bouncing Jared in a fireman’s lift. Jared inhaled his strong scent and padded his fingers into his Master’s tee-shirt. Jensen let him drop as soon as they were in the lobby and Jared hit the tiled floor with bruising force, but there was no time to recover from the jolt,
“Heel,” his Master commanded coolly, and clipped a leash to his collar.
Jared scrambled onto all fours and coaxed his arms and legs to follow his alpha. He couldn’t prevent the tears that still flowed, and he sniffed miserably.
“Any time,” drawled Master Christian, sarcastically.
Jared hurried to voice his gratitude, “Thank you,” but he was cut short by Master Christian’s next remark,
“I was speaking to your Master.”
“Thanks for the help, Chris.” Jensen was curt.
“Yeah, well. I did it for him, not you.” Christian tilted his gaze to Jared, “There’s limits, Jen.”
Jensen tensed. He squared his shoulders and curled his fists, “I’m not sure he has them. Everything is routine to him, and I think it’s fucking obvious that nothing else has worked.”
Christian shook his head, watching the tremors that quaked through Jared’s body and the tears that streamed down his cheeks, “So, maybe it’s time to think differently. Anyway, I’m going back to bed. G’night.”
***
There was a satisfying sting of warmth that returned to Jared’s flesh as he climbed the stairs at his Master’s side, and the raw chain-scrapes throbbed with a soothing rhythmic pulse, but they were temporary comfort. When the bedroom door shut behind them Jared could see the object of his demise, mocking him from the low table where Jensen had placed it, when he had demanded to know, “How many times, Jared?”
Jared closed his eyes, trying to eradicate the memory of it, but when he opened them, the thin blue book that he had stolen from his Master’s library was still there, accusing him. Master Jensen had been right of course. He always was. It had started long before the day he decided to stand in the house to move the cabinet. From the day that Master Jensen had first placed him on his cushion in the library, the neat colourful display and the smell of books was intoxicating. His Master handled books like precious crystal, before becoming immersed in them for hours, writing occasional notes, bookmarking certain pages and quirking a lip or frowning as he consumed the text. The fascination still held when Jared was between his legs warming his cock in his mouth. Then, Jared would feel the minute changes in Jensen’s body as he responded unconsciously to the written words.
Pets didn’t read or write. It was a useful skill for some slaves, but there was no point in a useless show-animal learning such things. Jared had learned a little anyway. He grew up bright and curious with three alpha children, and they shared their enthusiasm and their stories with him. Jared still remembered the first book he had managed to read with glowing pride and faltering voice. It had a hard shiny cover and friendly pictures of the moon and stars. “I see the moon and the moon sees me …” In early days, when things were difficult and his training painful, he would take that book into his cage and hide it under his embroidered cushion to look at it’s cheerful pictures when he was alone. He realized with a jolt that he had been wrong then too, but he had been young and cute and nobody had seemed to mind.
Jared nudged closer to his Master but the only response was a firm hand around his collar to drag him to the shower. His gag was removed and he flexed his sore, cracked lips in grateful silence. That Master Jensen took time to set the water to a careful temperature so his skin warmed gradually, was a pleasant surprise and he let himself relax into the flow. His tears dried up and sniffles ceased. Strong hands soaped him efficiently and he was rinsed and towelled dry, in quick time. Jensen wouldn’t acknowledge him and Jared sensed that anything he could say would be unwelcome. Eager to make his Master happy, he rubbed his head into the warmth of his Master’s thigh, looked into his face with wide, pleading eyes and mouthed at the shape of his cock through his trousers. Giving head was usually a sure-fire way to calm his alpha’s temper. Jensen’s foot connected with his chest and he was kicked backwards to sprawl on the floor with a whimper.
“Don’t touch me. Don’t speak to me. Don’t even look at me. I’m still angry with you.” Jensen pointed to a cage in the corner of the room, “You sleep in there. I’ve made other arrangements.”
Jared reluctantly followed his instruction and ducked his head to crawl inside the squashed space. A soft blanket lined the cage and there was the delicious warmth of a heating pad below it. He kept his gaze low to ensure that he would not meet his Master’s eyes but he couldn’t help the arch of his body into the touch when he felt the drag of soft fingertips over his skin, as a comforter was placed over him and his teddy bear tucked in with him. His alpha spoke again and the tone seemed milder. “Lie down, Sweetie. Sleep.”
Jared curled himself small to fit the space, and sighed. He was exhausted, the bedding was soft and there was familiar safety in being in a barred cage. A hand smoothed his wet hair, “Not getting rid of you, Sweetie. You just …” Master Jensen paused, as if struggling to find the words, “You managed to push all my buttons.” He stopped talking again and Jared could sense him struggling for words, “That book. I’m not sure you even know …” His voice trailed off and then he finished his words with, “I have to think about what is best. We’ll talk about it later.”
The cage door rattled and he heard the snap of a lock. There was the sound of bedding rustling and Jared was suddenly aware of the pungent smell of sex and perfume in the room. In their room. He snapped his head up to see Genevieve in their Master’s bed. She was sitting up, soft and sweaty, her hair disordered, her cheeks flushed. Her smile was lusty and her eyes sultry, the evidence that she had already been knotted, written in her face and stained over her skin. Jensen responded to her unspoken invitation by stripping his tee shirt off and pacing the last distance to the bed to push her to the mattress and straddle her naked body. She welcomed him in a way that Jared never had, and their Master looked into her face, kissed her lips and grinned at her eagerness.
It was in that moment Jared knew he had never been completely broken before. Not even put-out in the storm, in a puddle of his own piss had he felt so broken. It hurt. More than any whip or knife or brand. It was a pain in the heart that made it difficult to breathe and a flutter in his stomach which made him sick to the very core. It was about losing the only alpha he ever cared for. He didn’t know how to cope with the weight of his emotions, and he wished he’d died in the storm because this torture was worse. There was a keening noise coming from his own throat and Master Jensen turned to glare at him. He bit back the noise, blinked back his tears and turned his back on the scene. He cuddled into his blankets and pretended to doze, trying to block out the panting, guttural sounds of sex, while sharp emotions scratched and sliced at him.
He thought about the way the spines of Jensen’s books felt under his fingertips when he stroked a line along the shelf. The history books were arranged in date order of the eras they represented, rather than the traditional format of alphabet by author. They were in all sizes and thicknesses, ancient text standing alongside modern editions but Jensen liked to feel the paper. He had the digital version in his main system but the paper books rested alluringly on his shelves. Jared wondered if the compulsion to take a book from it’s slot, to read it’s words and admire it’s images, was some form of madness in him. The first time he had done it, he had held an old volume for only minutes, scanning the text and stopping to look at the picture of poppy wreaths in a graveyard. The bright red flowers were stark against the grey background and he longed to know the context. The type was small and the words too long for him to understand. He stared for a while, trying to make sense of a complicated paragraph but he knew his actions were wrong, and when a sudden noise made him jump he hastily replaced it on the shelf.
Over time he grew more confident, and he learned that Master Jensen rarely checked the camera footage from his library. It was his haven and his slaves rarely went there. Whenever Jared was left alone, he was increasingly drawn to stand by the shelves and lift a book from its place, spell words out in his head, and try to work out their meaning. Sometimes the words were easier than others and he was particularly fond of books with ancient photographs of humans doing extraordinary things, like flying airplanes or carrying guns.
He clutched his teddy to his chest as he thought about it all, and the tips of his ears reddened. Jensen had trusted Jared and he had betrayed that trust in the most fundamental way.
He tossed and turned in his limited space. He didn’t want to think about the book, but his mind kept returning to it and it avoided focusing on what was happening in Master Jensen’s bed. He hadn’t meant to steal the book. Four nights earlier, Master Jensen had been brushing his teeth for bed when he remembered his wallet left on the library desk, and sent Jared to fetch it. Jared had found the wallet quickly but light had shone on the spines of the books on one of the upper shelves. He had no explanation why he was so drawn to them. He wanted to touch them, and he somehow found himself standing, walking the line of the shelf pulling at each to look at the covers. He had stopped when he reached one which seemed out of place. It was a children’s book with a shiny hard-cover and child-easy, bold writing. The picture of a bus, animated with a face and wearing a hat made Jared smile, and when he slid it from the shelf he found it to be an old and well-thumbed edition. He was turning it in his hand in admiration when he heard Jensen calling. It was the next day before Jared realized he had taken the book with him, abandoned it in the darkness under their bed. He’d pushed it to the back of his mind until that morning, and when Jensen left Jared alone to take a run, Jared had slid his fingers to the hiding place and retrieved it, curious to see it again. The tale of a talking bus and a black human called Rosa Parks who had refused to give up her seat to a white man so engrossed Jared that he didn’t notice his Master’s return.
Master Jensen’s fury had been immediate and powerful. He had snatched the book from his hand, punched Jared to the floor and pinned him down. A glance at the title of the book had only made him angrier, “How do you have this? Can you read this?” he had yelled. His face had been red and his features contorted. He’d looked at his pet with madness in his eyes. The world had stopped turning for Jared, his mouth became dry and his heart jack-rabbited in his chest. Everything was wrong with what he had done and it was time to face the consequences. The truth had tumbled from his lips in a terrified jumble of words.
Jared still couldn’t comprehend the enormity of his own actions or why he had done it. A whimper escaped his mouth. Jensen had put him out and he’d earned it. Now he was replaced in his Master’s bed and he held no purpose in this household. His Master no longer loved him and it was Jared’s own fault. He was desolate.
“I told you to go to sleep, Sweetie.” Master Jensen spoke from his place on their bed, with Genevieve. His voice was commanding, but there was warmth in it. It was all so confusing. Jared shut his eyes and pretended to sleep.
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