Stiles had no idea what to say. A grinning Lydia was standing triumphantly in front of him with a huge, hulking mass of a man. Lydia had always had slaves, ever since Stiles could remember - she'd bring them to school, let them carry her books. Stiles never saw her beat them or anything, so he didn't think much of it - all rich people had slaves. Stiles had never really wanted one - even if he had money, he'd rather spend it on a comic book. What was he going to do with a slave, anyway?
He'd never particularly questioned the practice either; it was just a fact of life. And while there were some slaves around Beacon Hills, they were concentrated between one or two wealthy families. Stiles didn't have much contact with them, so while it was a fact, it was a seemingly distant one. And the people that absued their slaves...well, there were some out there, but the slave rescue found and saved them, didn't they? Kind of like PETA, but with slaves.
Regardless, here Lydia was, passing him the slave's leash. Stiles gapes, flustered, not knowing what to do with ths strap of leather being pressed into his hand. "But - I - you - what?!"
Lydia just laughs and leans in, pecking him on the cheek. "I bought him for you! I was at the market, and I thought he'd be perfect for you! Call it an early graduation present."
"But...what am I supposed to do with a slave?" Stiles glances at the slave, a little intimidated by how he towered over him. "I don't even...what!"
Lydia laughs again, thoroughly amused. "Whatever you want, Stiles. That's kind of the point. Have him clean your room, suck your dick, whatever."
This leaves Stiles spluttering in protest, but Lydia ignores him and flounces off, hair bouncing lightly. Stiles fell silent, bright red and holding a slave leash. Good God. How the fuck was this his life?
"Oh isn't he gorgeous?" Lydia squealed excitedly, tugging on the man's stylish leash. She had him in a pretty skimpy costume
Sam keeps his eyes firmly on the ground, attempting to seem nonthreatening. He knows a lot of people are intimidated by his size. It's why he was at auction for so long. But now that he's finally been bought, he's going to do his best to behave and obey his master's wishes.
Except the girl who'd bought him doesn't seem to want him. Instead, his leash is being passed off to some guy- guy? He's basically a kid- and disappearing up the street. Well. He stays still and silent, waiting for some kind of command from his master.
"I...uh, I'm Stiles." Stiles starts awkwardly. He has no idea what he's doing, or how to handle a slave. At least the man is docile, trained. "What...what's your name?"
People are starting to stare, and Stiles burns bright red as he tugs gently on the slave's leash, trying to lead him towards his jeep. They can't stay here, in public.
Sam follows the pull of the leash without hesitation, not once raising his eyes. The other slaves from the auction would be so proud of him. He's following his training to the letter.
"My name is whatever you'd like it to be. But my given name is Sam."
"Uh...Sam is fine." Stiles led Sam to the Jeep, opening the passenger door for him before quickly getting around to the driver's side, flustered and at a loss. "Um. So..."
Stiles pauses, staring at Sam. "...why are you looking at the ground?"
Yeah, he doesn't know the first thing about slaves. Stiles scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. "Right. So. I have no idea what I'm doing. So, er...do you know? Because I really don't."
"And, uh," Stiles turns beet red, glancing out his window. "...do you want some clothes?"
Sam gets into the Jeep at the silent command, pulling the door closed behind him.
"It's a sign of respect," he says softly, assuming he's allowed to speak. "Maybe you should ask the female master who bought me. She knows better than I do."
At the question about clothes, he looks surprised.
"That's your decision to make. You choose what I wear."
Stiles snorts, shaking his head. "Yeah, right. Ask Lydia. She'll be unhelpful on purpose."
"You...don't have to. It's okay to look at me." Stiles watches Sam for a second. "...I'd like it better if you did, Sam, but you don't have to if you don't want to."
"Aren't you cold?" Stiles blinks, then nods and starts the car. "Well...we're gonna get you some clothes. You can wear that at home, if you want. Just not...in public."
"Let me rephrase the question. It's perfectly fine to answer, Sam." Stiles assures him, directing rhe car towards the nearest thrift shop. Sam was huge; Stiles didn't know if he'd be able to find his size at a regular store. "What do you expect your master to do? Am I supposed to use the...leash? Or do you want to walk without it? Just...what do you expect from a master?"
"And what are you trained for?" Stiles asks curiously, glancing over at Sam. Some slaves had special purposes and had been trained for specific things.
"I am a little cold," he admits when Stiles asks. He doesn't know if he's allowed to be cold.
"The other slaves always told me that my master would tell me what he wants from me. It's my job to do whatever you ask me to do without question and without hesitation. I'm not supposed to want anything for myself, just live off of what my master provides and be grateful for it."
At the next question, Sam drops his eyes again.
"I was trained as a pleasure slave. The auctioneers...they said that with my looks, that's the only reason I'd be bought."
Stiles immediately cranked up the heat, directing them towards the store. "Okay, well...I want you to tell me if you want anything, okay? I won't get mad. That's, uh...that's an order. If you want anything, you have to tell me, or, like...feel free to get it yourself. I'll show you were the kitchen is if you get hungry, the bathroom."
Stiles blinks and bites his lip awkwardly. Well, Sam is pretty hot. And judging by the costume, his dick is huge just like the rest of his body. "Oh. Um. Is...is that all you know how to do?"
Stiles smiles reassuringly, cheeks pink. He can't imagine just ordering Sam to get on his knees and having him do it. Of course Lydia would get him a pleasure slave.
Sam looks really surprised at that. He has permission to speak openly like that? Get food and water whenever he wants it? He'd never expected anything like that.
"I can read and write," he says softly. "And my body's been trained. I can do physical work."
"Right well...don't worry about it, for now." Stiles smiles reassuringly at Sam's surprised expression. "I honestly don't have much use for a slave. Lydia just likes to screw with me."
Stiles rubs a hand over his cheek, thinking. "Shit, I still have to get you past my dad."
The sudden shift in demeanor is enkugh for Stiles' eyes to widen. "Hey, no. Remember, we just talked about looking at me? Look up, Sam, please?"
"I don't want to return you. You're a gift, that'd be rude." And he doesn't like that sad look on Sam's face. So he reaches over, patting Sam's bare thigh. "Maybe I'll test you out, Sam. Don't worry."
That doesn't comfort Sam any. Stiles intends to keep him in an attempt to not be rude. Not because he wants to keep him. Not because he has any use for him.
Even so, he has no choice but to raise his eyes. It's an order from his master, after all, and he'd be stupid to disobey it.
"You're really broken in well, aren't you?" Stiles asks, after a moment, squeezing Sam's thigh before pulling his hand back to manuevar the steering wheel. "Eager to please?"
"It's not like I have a household of slaves, Sam. You're the only one. And I'm afraid I...don't really know how to properly implement a slave, regardless."
He'd never particularly questioned the practice either; it was just a fact of life. And while there were some slaves around Beacon Hills, they were concentrated between one or two wealthy families. Stiles didn't have much contact with them, so while it was a fact, it was a seemingly distant one. And the people that absued their slaves...well, there were some out there, but the slave rescue found and saved them, didn't they? Kind of like PETA, but with slaves.
Regardless, here Lydia was, passing him the slave's leash. Stiles gapes, flustered, not knowing what to do with ths strap of leather being pressed into his hand. "But - I - you - what?!"
Lydia just laughs and leans in, pecking him on the cheek. "I bought him for you! I was at the market, and I thought he'd be perfect for you! Call it an early graduation present."
"But...what am I supposed to do with a slave?" Stiles glances at the slave, a little intimidated by how he towered over him. "I don't even...what!"
Lydia laughs again, thoroughly amused. "Whatever you want, Stiles. That's kind of the point. Have him clean your room, suck your dick, whatever."
This leaves Stiles spluttering in protest, but Lydia ignores him and flounces off, hair bouncing lightly. Stiles fell silent, bright red and holding a slave leash. Good God. How the fuck was this his life?
"Oh isn't he gorgeous?" Lydia squealed excitedly, tugging on the man's stylish leash. She had him in a pretty skimpy costume
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Except the girl who'd bought him doesn't seem to want him. Instead, his leash is being passed off to some guy- guy? He's basically a kid- and disappearing up the street. Well. He stays still and silent, waiting for some kind of command from his master.
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People are starting to stare, and Stiles burns bright red as he tugs gently on the slave's leash, trying to lead him towards his jeep. They can't stay here, in public.
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"My name is whatever you'd like it to be. But my given name is Sam."
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Stiles pauses, staring at Sam. "...why are you looking at the ground?"
Yeah, he doesn't know the first thing about slaves. Stiles scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. "Right. So. I have no idea what I'm doing. So, er...do you know? Because I really don't."
"And, uh," Stiles turns beet red, glancing out his window. "...do you want some clothes?"
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"It's a sign of respect," he says softly, assuming he's allowed to speak. "Maybe you should ask the female master who bought me. She knows better than I do."
At the question about clothes, he looks surprised.
"That's your decision to make. You choose what I wear."
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"You...don't have to. It's okay to look at me." Stiles watches Sam for a second. "...I'd like it better if you did, Sam, but you don't have to if you don't want to."
"Aren't you cold?" Stiles blinks, then nods and starts the car. "Well...we're gonna get you some clothes. You can wear that at home, if you want. Just not...in public."
"Let me rephrase the question. It's perfectly fine to answer, Sam." Stiles assures him, directing rhe car towards the nearest thrift shop. Sam was huge; Stiles didn't know if he'd be able to find his size at a regular store. "What do you expect your master to do? Am I supposed to use the...leash? Or do you want to walk without it? Just...what do you expect from a master?"
"And what are you trained for?" Stiles asks curiously, glancing over at Sam. Some slaves had special purposes and had been trained for specific things.
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"The other slaves always told me that my master would tell me what he wants from me. It's my job to do whatever you ask me to do without question and without hesitation. I'm not supposed to want anything for myself, just live off of what my master provides and be grateful for it."
At the next question, Sam drops his eyes again.
"I was trained as a pleasure slave. The auctioneers...they said that with my looks, that's the only reason I'd be bought."
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Stiles blinks and bites his lip awkwardly. Well, Sam is pretty hot. And judging by the costume, his dick is huge just like the rest of his body. "Oh. Um. Is...is that all you know how to do?"
Stiles smiles reassuringly, cheeks pink. He can't imagine just ordering Sam to get on his knees and having him do it. Of course Lydia would get him a pleasure slave.
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"I can read and write," he says softly. "And my body's been trained. I can do physical work."
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Stiles rubs a hand over his cheek, thinking. "Shit, I still have to get you past my dad."
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"The auctioneer accepts returns," he says quietly. "You could get your friend's money back and get rid of me."
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"I don't want to return you. You're a gift, that'd be rude." And he doesn't like that sad look on Sam's face. So he reaches over, patting Sam's bare thigh. "Maybe I'll test you out, Sam. Don't worry."
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Even so, he has no choice but to raise his eyes. It's an order from his master, after all, and he'd be stupid to disobey it.
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"It's not like I have a household of slaves, Sam. You're the only one. And I'm afraid I...don't really know how to properly implement a slave, regardless."
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He doesn't want to question his master. Doesn't want to be disrespectful, but.
"Couldn't another master help you?" he asks. "I've never been owned before. All I know is that I'm to obey my master's every command."
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