Fic : Two Slaves 10/?
Title: Two Slaves 10/?
Words: Approx 5500
Rating : R
Characters : House/Wilson, Foreman/Cuddy
Contains : Slavery AU, corporal punishment of various kinds, some Master/slave non-con (not explicit). Dark! versions of all characters except House & Wilson.
Summary : Greg has been owned by Doctor Cuddy for a long time, he's settled into a routine but his world is disrupted by the arrival of Doctor Foreman, and his new slave - Jimmy. With their masters working closely together on redesigning the hospital the two slaves find themselves thrown together as well.
Previous part
He'd been Gregory John House for the first twelve years of his life. Son of Colonel John House, and of Blythe House. His dad was a marine pilot so his life had included constant moves, and a succession of military housing complexes.
He'd adored his dad until he was about five, and he'd wanted to be just like him when he grew up. Then something changed. His father began to be harsh with him, enforcing a strict set of rules, the slightest infringement of which resulted in harsh punishment. He was often banished from the house for the night, left to sleep in the yard outside for some trivial offence. He endured ice baths and beatings at his father's hands. His mother began to spend more and more time away from home, visiting her family.
Greg began to get into trouble at school, and with the law. By the time he was twelve he'd been before the courts twice, racking up two criminal convictions. Under the three strikes policy for juveniles one more and he'd be declared uncontrollable and taken away from his parents and enslaved for life.
During his twelfth summer his Mom went away for a weekend, visiting her Mom. Greg broke into a neighbour's home and stole cigarettes and alcohol, and his father discovered it. He threatened to turn him over to the police. Greg scoffed - if Dad did that then his son would be enslaved - and however much they hated each other he knew Dad wouldn't let that happen.
There was a lot of shouting and Dad finally cornered him and gave him the worst belting of his life. Towards the end Greg got in a good kick to his father’s nuts. His father doubled over in pain and Greg took his chance and ran down the stairs. He found the door locked and by the time he’d made his way to the back door Dad was there. He grabbed Greg in an arm lock, twisting his arm far behind him so that Greg couldn’t move. Then he told Greg how ashamed he was of him; how sick it made him feel to have a son like Greg.
With tears of pain running down his face Greg had screamed back at him that he wasn't his son anyway. That he knew John wasn't his real Dad. He'd figured it out from his Dad's old log books - he'd been away when Greg had been conceived. Greg was a bastard child, and glad of it.
He thought Dad would give him another thrashing but instead the man had gone quiet. He dragged Greg into the kitchen and fixed the dog’s collar around his neck and tied his hands with the leash. Then he hauled him into town; straight to the local slave traders. The traders laughed when they saw the collar and leash, they said half their job had been done already.
Dad sold him there and then.
When Greg realised what was happening he pleaded with his Dad, but the man wouldn’t listen. He took his money, signed the papers and left. Before leaving he told Greg it made sense. Greg would never get through his childhood without another conviction, and if he was taken away forcibly by the law his parents would get no money. At least this way John got some money back for raising another man's son.
Greg was taken down to a holding cage, shaking in fear, and then shipped out early the next morning to a training facility for young slaves. He spent the first two weeks in constant trouble, he was expecting his Mom to show up and take him back, and he wasn't going to learn to be a stupid slave. She never came and the discipline made John's efforts look feeble. By the time he turned thirteen they'd made him into a slave. When he was fourteen he was sold for the first time. When he was twenty he was sold to Lisa Cuddy's parents.
He never even thought the name 'House' after his first sale - he was just Greg. Even when he had the chance - many years later - to find out information about his parents he never tried, his family was dead to him. It was better that way.
It would be better if James forgot he ever existed before he was a slave - Greg knew that. Thinking about what he once was, and what he had lost, would do nothing but make him unhappy.
On the other hand, it didn't matter if Greg found out about his history. Knowledge was power as he had told James. And James was a puzzle, and Greg liked solving puzzles.
He waited until Cuddy had been asleep for an hour and then cracked the door to his room open. Normally he kept it firmly closed while he was in here, the only bit of privacy he ever got. Now he opened it so he could hear the slightest sound from upstairs, where her bedroom was.
After hearing nothing for another ten minutes he went to the wall behind his bed and carefully eased out the false panel. It had taken a lot of time and effort to build that but it was worth it. Concealed within the space was a small netbook computer. Stolen from a visitor to the hospital and smuggled out one night a year before; buried in a box of files he'd brought home for Cuddy. It had been a huge risk but it had been worth it.
He booted up the computer. He rarely used it because of the risk of being discovered but sometimes, when the pain was bad at night and he desperately needed something to keep himself sane, he took it out and spent the night on the internet. On there, no-one knew he was a slave.
Cuddy never changed the password on her Wi-Fi so that was no problem and within minutes he was engrossed in research. James Wilson wasn't an uncommon name but combined with his being a doctor it wasn't hard to find the story.
Wilson had been working at a hospital in Canada when he'd been accused of murdering one of his patients. His colleagues had reportedly been shocked, Wilson had been highly regarded in his field, and well-liked by staff and patients alike. He was considered a rising star in Oncology - bound to be a Department Head in the next few years. No-one had a bad word to say about him. It had come out at the trial that one of his brothers was mentally ill, but Wilson had never shown any signs of the same illness.
The evidence against him had been strong, and Wilson had been convicted of murder. He'd been sentenced to mindwiping and enslavement rather than life in prison and as part of a prisoner exchange with the United States had been sent back to the States for the sentence to be carried out.
Greg looked at the pictures and video attached to the news article - there was no doubt that this man was the James he knew. There was a short video of him being hustled into a courtroom and he looked shocked and bewildered. He paused the video and looked at the man staring out of the screen for a long time. It was strange to see James without a collar around his neck, and without that submissive look that marked him as a mindwiped slave. The blankness that he had first possessed when he came to Princeton was gradually dissolving and he was beginning to show some signs of personality, but he was a long way from the freeman in the video.
Greg tore himself away from the video and kept clicking around, checking into James' education. It was impressive; he had been well on his way to a distinguished career as an oncologist when he had inexplicably turned into a murderer. Greg wondered what had made him snap. The patient he had killed had been rich, and there had been rumours that he was involved with organised crime, including, ironically, a black market slave trade. If he had been a mobster being sentenced to mindwiping had probably saved James from being murdered in jail.
Further investigation revealed the link between James and the doctor who had recognised him - Doctor Holling from Pediatrics. They'd been interns together at James' first hospital. Greg didn't know if Holling knew the story of what happened to Doctor James Wilson, or if his shock had come from the sight of his former colleague wearing a slave collar. Although he'd listened hard to the rumour mill since that encounter he'd heard no mention of it. Maybe James was safe. Greg hoped so, the prospect of James being taken away from here was something his mind shied away from. Greg had never made a connection with anyone like he had with James - either while he was free, or since he'd been a slave. He had thought that he had no ability to care for anyone; James had proved that he did. It was too much to hope that James would be in his life forever, but he wasn't ready to lose him just yet.
He glanced at the time on the computer screen. Two hours had passed. Quickly he shut down the computer and slid it back into its hiding place, taking care to replace the panel so that not a crack showed. Cuddy didn't search his room often, and when she did her inspections were usually cursory. He made sure to always have one or two small items of contraband carelessly hidden that she could find easily. A few spare Vicodin, or a stash of chocolate bars, meant a paddling or caning, but after finding them she didn't bother looking further.
He turned off the bare light over his bed and lay down on the bunk. There were only a couple of hours left before he had to get up and start the morning's work. Even so, it was a while before he could get to sleep.
James was busy in Doctor Foreman's office, carefully copying some figures from the computer to the files laid out on the table. Doctor Foreman had been called down to the new wing to sort out some dispute or other. Normally James would have gone with him but instead Foreman had given him cursory instructions and told him that he expected the work done by the time he got back. He didn't often leave James alone, or instruct him to do anything but menial work so James diligently got to work - he hoped that one day Doctor Foreman would treat him more like Doctor Cuddy treated Greg.
As he worked his attention wavered. He'd seen Doctor Foreman using the computer to do research, as well as to check on various companies and people that he encountered. He didn't know that much about it, but he wondered if he could put his own name into the computer and see if he could find anything out about himself.
He glanced at the door. He didn't know how long Doctor Foreman would be, and he realised that using the computer to do unauthorised research, especially into his own history, would be a grave offense. Greg had said he should forget about it. But that was easy for Greg to say. There was someone here, in this hospital, who knew about him. His tone had been astonished but friendly until he realised that James was a slave. He hadn't berated James for knocking him over, or clipped a chip on his collar instructing his owner to punish him. Maybe he'd once been a friend.
He clicked away from the spreadsheet he was on and saw the screen behind. There was a box labelled 'search'. He started to laboriously type James Wilson into it.
"What are you doing?" His head jerked up and he snatched his hands off the keyboard before he saw Greg standing in the open doorway.
Greg glanced behind him and then came into the room. He looked at the screen. Cursing, he reached out and quickly pressed a sequence of keys, bringing the spreadsheet back up.
"You can't just search like that. It leaves a history, he'll know what you've been doing, you moron. I told you to quit it."
"You'd do it," James said, annoyed at Greg.
Greg looked at him, a strange expression on his face.
"Yeah, maybe I would, but I'd do it so I wouldn't get caught. You have a lot to learn about being sneaky. Do you want to get whipped?"
"Maybe I wouldn't have gotten caught."
Greg snorted, "yeah, right." He reached over and picked a file up off the desk. "Cuddy sent me here to get this; I've got to get back. Look, don't do anything stupid. I found out some things. I'll tell you tonight if Foreman comes over for a booty call. Okay?"
James was startled; he didn't know that Greg had been looking into it himself. For a moment he felt stubborn but then he conceded. He really didn't want to get whipped, or jeopardise his place here. "Okay," he said.
Two minutes after Greg left Doctor Foreman returned and his slave, James presented the figures to him, receiving a cool nod of acknowledgment from his Master.
"What do you think they do in there?" Foreman asked after the slaves had been sent away. Their meal had been professionally prepared as always, the dirty dishes cleaned away and their drinks served by their slaves. As she usually did Lisa had sent them to Greg's room, she'd told him before that she disliked having her slave around when she was with someone. Foreman had never objected to Jimmy being dismissed, if Lisa didn't like having Greg around while she was with him, he expected that she wouldn't like Jimmy any better.
Lisa curled up by his side, her small form fitting nicely against him. "As long as they aren't bothering us does it matter? Sometimes it's nice to have a break from having responsibility for a slave. Keeping Greg in line, and occupied, is a constant battle and he does get tiresome. Having Jimmy around seems to be good for him, I've only had to discipline him a few times since you came, maybe being around such a well behaved slave has been a good example for him."
Foreman frowned. Although he had no doubt that Jimmy was a good influence on Greg he wasn't sure the same applied in reverse. Not that he'd had any reason to doubt Jimmy's commitment as a slave - his own apartment was just as spotless as Lisa's house, and Jimmy was competent at preparing meals, running Foreman's bath, and doing all the other household tasks he was set. Add that to a growing usefulness at the hospital and Jimmy was almost the perfect slave - and he wanted to keep it that way.
"Do you think we should try to keep them separated more? Slaves really shouldn't be spending so much time alone with each other." He'd ordered several books on slave keeping when he bought Jimmy, nearly all of them had stressed how important it was for a slave to be as isolated as possible, so that they became completely dependent on their Master or Mistress. Only one of the books had a more liberal approach, advocating a sort of 'free-range' slave philosophy, espousing the view that giving a slave more freedom would lead to a better performed slave. Foreman had donated that one after reading only a couple of chapters. New age nonsense. Jimmy needed a tight rein, and that's what he had given him, except for the few hours he spent at Lisa's.
"Keeping them apart is going to be difficult when you move in," Lisa said. "Let them go, if they start acting out we have the perfect punishment for them."
He stared down at her. "I'm moving in?" He'd thought about it of course, there'd been seeing each other for months now, and going home to an empty bed after spending the evening with Lisa was getting less and less appealing.
"I've got plenty of room. It would be nice to spend the night with each other instead of you coming for dinner and sex and then going. After the Fund Raiser perhaps? It will give the whole hospital something new to gossip about."
"Well, when you put it like that..." he smiled and bent his head to kiss her, his concerns about Jimmy forgotten.
"I'm a murderer?"
They were both sitting on Greg's bed. James had listened intently as Greg had told him what he'd found out. James didn't ask how, he knew Greg had many methods of gaining information. Maybe one day he'd share them with James, but for now all that mattered was what he was saying.
He'd known, of course, that he must have done something terrible. They didn't enslave people for jaywalking. He could have fallen foul of the three strikes rule, but that seemed unlikely as he'd been a doctor, not some minimum wage guy on the streets. But knowing that, and hearing that he had been convicted of killing a patient, well, they were two different things.
Even the explanation that his patient had been involved in criminal activity himself was hardly comforting. Had he been involved with this patient somehow? Had the guy been threatening to turn him in so he'd killed him so that wouldn't happen? Greg didn't know, there wasn't a lot of detail online, there were many murders, and it only made the news in the first place because of the unusual circumstance of a doctor killing a patient.
"Well, technically, you were but it's not like you were a serial killer or something. And hey, patients can be pretty annoying. Pretty sure if I'd been a doctor I would have killed one or two."
"It's not funny!" James snapped. "That's my life you're talking about. I'm a killer."
"No," Greg shook his head, "you're a slave. When they made you a slave your criminal record became irrelevant. All that makes you different to us other scum is that you can never be freed. As if you ever would be anyway." Slaves could be freed, in theory, in practice they almost never were - why would anyone bother? If someone had enough money to buy a slave they weren't going to waste it by then freeing him or her.
"I killed someone, Greg."
"You're not that person anymore; the mindwiping took care of that, like it was supposed to. You can't remember anything from your old life can you?"
James shook his head. He sometimes had vague feelings of familiarity, as he had in paediatric oncology with that little girl, but nothing concrete. Even when Greg told him about his trial he'd remembered nothing. He really wasn't that person anymore. Whatever it was that had driven him to kill didn't exist now.
"I shouldn't have told you. You're going to obsess about this now aren't you?"
"No." James shook his head. "You're right. What Doctor James Wilson did in some Canadian hospital doesn't matter. I'm not him." He looked up at Greg who was sitting close beside him, and stared into his eyes. "Thank you for finding out, and thank you for telling me. At least now I know."
Greg swallowed and then nodded, not saying anything.
James was overtaken by a feeling of affection for this man who had come to mean everything in his life. He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips against Greg's. He could feel Greg stiffen in surprise and he squeezed his arm. Greg returned the pressure on his lips and then quickly broke away.
The men stared at each other. James could feel his heart beating wildly and he fancied he could hear Greg's doing the same.
James had had sex, many times, since being enslaved. If you could call it having sex when another man, or woman, used your body to fulfil themselves, much as they would use a vibrator, or a dildo. There had been no emotion involved. He'd seen people kissing, around the hospital, and on the glimpses of television he'd caught at Doctor Foreman's apartment, he'd even witnessed an occasional piece of affectionate behaviour between Foreman and Cuddy. He knew there was a difference between how Foreman used his body (and presumably how Cuddy used Greg's although he never talked about it), and what he felt for Greg. He also knew that what they had just done was forbidden for slaves.
"No," Greg said. "We can't." He backed away, shaking his head.
James felt a wave of disappointment at Greg's words. He opened his mouth to protest and then his attention was caught by the signal light flashing on. For a moment he wanted to ignore it, to hell with the consequences, but Greg was already moving, a quick look of relief in his eyes, as if he couldn't wait to escape from here. He bowed his head, of course Greg wouldn't want him - he'd just found out that he had killed someone, why would Greg want to be with him?
As he gathered together Foreman's belongings and took them out to the car he just hoped that Greg would still want to be his friend.
Cuddy gave the final briefing in the morning to the company that was dealing with the hospital's fundraiser. The event was to be held the next night and she wanted everything to go perfectly. Her slave stood silently behind her chair as she ticked off details with Justine, she'd worked with the woman before and found her to be competent. Still, nothing could be left to chance for an occasion as important as this.
"We'll need some private areas on the night," Cuddy said. "Those rooms should be furnished with the usual equipment." She eyed the woman who nodded gracefully.
"Of course, Doctor Cuddy. Please let me know if any of those attending have special needs to be met, we have most items in stock but will need to know if there is anything out of the ordinary." Her eyes flicked to Greg, a slight smile on her face, "will you need any additional slaves or will you be supplying them yourself?"
"Our doctors have gracefully donated the services of eight slaves, and our Chairman is also donating three of his for the night. We'll need a holding room for them to stay when they're not being used. My slave, Greg, will be on hand during the night for running errands and any other tasks I need him to do but he won't be used in that capacity of course." She smiled slightly and the other woman joined her in the joke.
"I think that covers everything," Cuddy stood, gathering up her papers. She handed them off to Greg and saw him catching a glimpse of the list on top with the names of the serving slaves that had been arranged - Jimmy was first on the list. She knew he wouldn't be pleased - well, too bad, it would do Jimmy, and Greg, no harm to remember that he was just an ordinary slave, with no special privileges. Eric still didn't like it but he was resigned to the fact. She just hoped Vogler would show a little restraint, if Jimmy was injured or incapacitated she didn't want to have to deal with both Eric and Greg sulking about it.
"I hope the night is successful for you," Justine said, holding out her hand.
"Oh, I'm sure it will be, we have some very generous donors, and they do appreciate their needs being met."
She returned to her car and drove back to the hospital. When they were nearly there she heard Greg clear his throat.
"Ma'am, Jimmy could help me on the night, he'll be able to get around a lot quicker than I can."
She clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Jimmy's services have already been allocated. I'm sure he will be far too busy to help you."
"You can change that. There are other slaves who can do that."
"That's enough, Gregory. This is none of your business; I don't want to hear another word from you."
She thought he was going to protest again but instead he slumped down in the harness, a scowl on his face.
Instead of going to the courtyard for their lunch Greg led James up to the sixth floor. Once there he ducked into a fire escape and went up another flight of concrete stairs, and onto the roof. They weren't actually forbidden to be up here - but it wasn't somewhere they were authorized to be either. Making the trip up the stairs wasn't easy for him now, but sometimes he did it just to have a different view for a while. From here they could see all over Princeton. He wanted James to be able to see it.
He sat down on one of the low walls and watched as James stared out over the city, an expression of longing on his face - Greg knew how he felt. He sometimes watched the people down there, freely going about their business and imagined how it would be if he was one of them.
"We shouldn't be here," James said eventually, tearing his eyes away from the view and eyeing the fire door apprehensively. Some cigarette butts around the doorway were testimony to the usual use the roof was put to.
Greg shrugged, there were a lot of things he shouldn't do that he did anyway. James had been quiet all day and he wanted to talk to him after they what had happened the night before. And he wanted to warn him about tomorrow.
James eventually seemed to make up his mind and he came to sit beside Greg, his body language stiff.
"Oh, stop sulking! I didn't say 'no' because of what I found out about you."
"It doesn't matter," James said dully, staring at the ground, "I shouldn't have done that. I should have known you didn't feel the same way."
Greg remembered the sweet taste of James on his lips and the way the kiss had made him feel. He'd never had a kiss like that. Cuddy had never kissed him, nor had anyone else who used him, except for one of her friends in college. She'd been drunk and trying to be edgy he thought, kissing a slave for shit and giggles. There had been a group of them and all the others had laughed and made sounds of disgust as he lay there and the woman kissed him.
James' kiss hadn't been anything like that.
It was all he could do to keep his hands to himself now. If he didn't care for him so much he'd be all over him, slave regulations be damned. He'd never felt about anyone the way he did about James.
"You don't want me, James. Not like that."
James stared at him, mouth opening slightly in astonishment. "Yes, I do, you know I do."
Greg shook his head. "No, you were mindwiped, emptied of everything you knew, and they put back a load of shit in your head. Told you how you had to be a perfect little sex toy, how you had to let people use you. They took away any choice you had, they took away the idea that you should even be able to choose. You can't make choices like that for yourself yet, you think I've been nice to you so you have to do something like that for me." He fiddled with his cane and then twirled it in place, "you don't want someone like me."
James was still gaping at him, those damned soft brown eyes all wide and puzzled. "You think I kissed you because I thought I had to?"
"Not in so many words but you've been brainwashed into -----"
"That's crap!" James stood up, his arms waving around, his expression angry in a way that went straight through Greg. "I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you." He loomed over Greg, his hands going to his hips. "I'm not a child , you don't need to protect me."
But that's exactly what you are , Greg thought, you've been 'awake' for only a little over a year .
"Why would you want to do anything with me, when you don't have to?" Greg asked. "Why would you risk a whole lot of trouble for that?" He gestured to himself, "I've been a slave since I was twelve, I'm not particularly good looking, and I’m not charming, or nice, or fun to be with. Why would you want me?"
"I'm a slave too, and they tell me I am good looking, and cute, and my Master liked fucking me, but I didn't have any choice in that. I have to spend a lot of time with him, and I don't enjoy it, but you - I enjoy spending time with you. You're funny, and smart, and you know so much, and when I'm with you I feel special. I feel like I'm worth something. I think even if we weren't slaves, if we'd met at some bar or something, I'd want to be your friend. And I'd want to kiss you."
They were both standing now, inches apart, and James reached out a hand to touch Greg's sleeve.
"You know the worst about me, but if you want me, I want you."
"I want you," Greg said, the words coming without his conscious control. “But…”
There was the sudden sound of men's voices and they sprung apart, remembering where they were. A group of orderlies had come out onto the roof, cigarettes in hand. They hadn't spotted the slaves yet and Greg gestured to James to follow him. They walked quietly back to the door, almost reaching it before being spotted.
"Hey, you slaves, stop there." One of the group said and they stopped, but didn't go their knees. The man stared at them and then glanced at his friends. "Arrogant slaves, maybe we'd better show them how to kneel."
The other men came around behind them and forced both slaves to their knees before they could do so voluntarily. Greg felt a heavy pair of hands on his shoulders, holding him down. He glanced at James who was kneeling passively but was similarly pinioned.
"Sir, we need to report to Doctor Cuddy, she is expecting us." Greg said, keeping his tone polite but firm. He didn't know this man, but this was a dangerous situation for them. He looked away from James, hoping to draw the men's attention away from him.
"Sure she is, she probably wants a quick one, “the man laughed.
"Hey, that’s Doctor Cuddy's slave - the gimpy one, I've seen him around Mick. That bitch likes to keep him to herself - better let him go. We don't want any trouble." The man holding Greg said, loosening his grip.
“Pretty boy can give me a nice suck first.” Mick unzipped himself and moved over to where James was kneeling. “Open up wide, slave, nice present for you.”
“No, Mick. You can’t - the other one belongs to Doctor Foreman, and I’ve heard he won’t share him out. And he’s fucking Cuddy. You don’t want to lose this job, do you? Let them go.”
Mick paused with his hand on his dick and then zipped himself back up. “Don’t want a blow from some filthy slave anyway, who knows where that mouth has been.” He glanced at Greg and sneered. Then he shoved James off balance. “Fuck off you two, and don't come up here again."
Greg didn't wait to be told twice; he struggled to his feet and started off down the stairs, feeling a boot brush his ass as he went. James stumbled next to him and he figured he'd received the same treatment.
They didn't stop until the fire door and then Greg looked back up the stairs but the men hadn’t pursued them.
“James, I…” he stopped, what could he say? That he wanted a relationship with him? That was a fantasy, what had just happened was the reality - it was their reality. He stopped and James looked away. “We’d better get back to work,” Greg said and pushed the door back into the hospital open. Without another word between them they went back to their respective owners.
It wasn't until later that Greg realised that he hadn't warned James about tomorrow night.
Words: Approx 5500
Rating : R
Characters : House/Wilson, Foreman/Cuddy
Contains : Slavery AU, corporal punishment of various kinds, some Master/slave non-con (not explicit). Dark! versions of all characters except House & Wilson.
Summary : Greg has been owned by Doctor Cuddy for a long time, he's settled into a routine but his world is disrupted by the arrival of Doctor Foreman, and his new slave - Jimmy. With their masters working closely together on redesigning the hospital the two slaves find themselves thrown together as well.
Previous part
He'd been Gregory John House for the first twelve years of his life. Son of Colonel John House, and of Blythe House. His dad was a marine pilot so his life had included constant moves, and a succession of military housing complexes.
He'd adored his dad until he was about five, and he'd wanted to be just like him when he grew up. Then something changed. His father began to be harsh with him, enforcing a strict set of rules, the slightest infringement of which resulted in harsh punishment. He was often banished from the house for the night, left to sleep in the yard outside for some trivial offence. He endured ice baths and beatings at his father's hands. His mother began to spend more and more time away from home, visiting her family.
Greg began to get into trouble at school, and with the law. By the time he was twelve he'd been before the courts twice, racking up two criminal convictions. Under the three strikes policy for juveniles one more and he'd be declared uncontrollable and taken away from his parents and enslaved for life.
During his twelfth summer his Mom went away for a weekend, visiting her Mom. Greg broke into a neighbour's home and stole cigarettes and alcohol, and his father discovered it. He threatened to turn him over to the police. Greg scoffed - if Dad did that then his son would be enslaved - and however much they hated each other he knew Dad wouldn't let that happen.
There was a lot of shouting and Dad finally cornered him and gave him the worst belting of his life. Towards the end Greg got in a good kick to his father’s nuts. His father doubled over in pain and Greg took his chance and ran down the stairs. He found the door locked and by the time he’d made his way to the back door Dad was there. He grabbed Greg in an arm lock, twisting his arm far behind him so that Greg couldn’t move. Then he told Greg how ashamed he was of him; how sick it made him feel to have a son like Greg.
With tears of pain running down his face Greg had screamed back at him that he wasn't his son anyway. That he knew John wasn't his real Dad. He'd figured it out from his Dad's old log books - he'd been away when Greg had been conceived. Greg was a bastard child, and glad of it.
He thought Dad would give him another thrashing but instead the man had gone quiet. He dragged Greg into the kitchen and fixed the dog’s collar around his neck and tied his hands with the leash. Then he hauled him into town; straight to the local slave traders. The traders laughed when they saw the collar and leash, they said half their job had been done already.
Dad sold him there and then.
When Greg realised what was happening he pleaded with his Dad, but the man wouldn’t listen. He took his money, signed the papers and left. Before leaving he told Greg it made sense. Greg would never get through his childhood without another conviction, and if he was taken away forcibly by the law his parents would get no money. At least this way John got some money back for raising another man's son.
Greg was taken down to a holding cage, shaking in fear, and then shipped out early the next morning to a training facility for young slaves. He spent the first two weeks in constant trouble, he was expecting his Mom to show up and take him back, and he wasn't going to learn to be a stupid slave. She never came and the discipline made John's efforts look feeble. By the time he turned thirteen they'd made him into a slave. When he was fourteen he was sold for the first time. When he was twenty he was sold to Lisa Cuddy's parents.
He never even thought the name 'House' after his first sale - he was just Greg. Even when he had the chance - many years later - to find out information about his parents he never tried, his family was dead to him. It was better that way.
It would be better if James forgot he ever existed before he was a slave - Greg knew that. Thinking about what he once was, and what he had lost, would do nothing but make him unhappy.
On the other hand, it didn't matter if Greg found out about his history. Knowledge was power as he had told James. And James was a puzzle, and Greg liked solving puzzles.
He waited until Cuddy had been asleep for an hour and then cracked the door to his room open. Normally he kept it firmly closed while he was in here, the only bit of privacy he ever got. Now he opened it so he could hear the slightest sound from upstairs, where her bedroom was.
After hearing nothing for another ten minutes he went to the wall behind his bed and carefully eased out the false panel. It had taken a lot of time and effort to build that but it was worth it. Concealed within the space was a small netbook computer. Stolen from a visitor to the hospital and smuggled out one night a year before; buried in a box of files he'd brought home for Cuddy. It had been a huge risk but it had been worth it.
He booted up the computer. He rarely used it because of the risk of being discovered but sometimes, when the pain was bad at night and he desperately needed something to keep himself sane, he took it out and spent the night on the internet. On there, no-one knew he was a slave.
Cuddy never changed the password on her Wi-Fi so that was no problem and within minutes he was engrossed in research. James Wilson wasn't an uncommon name but combined with his being a doctor it wasn't hard to find the story.
Wilson had been working at a hospital in Canada when he'd been accused of murdering one of his patients. His colleagues had reportedly been shocked, Wilson had been highly regarded in his field, and well-liked by staff and patients alike. He was considered a rising star in Oncology - bound to be a Department Head in the next few years. No-one had a bad word to say about him. It had come out at the trial that one of his brothers was mentally ill, but Wilson had never shown any signs of the same illness.
The evidence against him had been strong, and Wilson had been convicted of murder. He'd been sentenced to mindwiping and enslavement rather than life in prison and as part of a prisoner exchange with the United States had been sent back to the States for the sentence to be carried out.
Greg looked at the pictures and video attached to the news article - there was no doubt that this man was the James he knew. There was a short video of him being hustled into a courtroom and he looked shocked and bewildered. He paused the video and looked at the man staring out of the screen for a long time. It was strange to see James without a collar around his neck, and without that submissive look that marked him as a mindwiped slave. The blankness that he had first possessed when he came to Princeton was gradually dissolving and he was beginning to show some signs of personality, but he was a long way from the freeman in the video.
Greg tore himself away from the video and kept clicking around, checking into James' education. It was impressive; he had been well on his way to a distinguished career as an oncologist when he had inexplicably turned into a murderer. Greg wondered what had made him snap. The patient he had killed had been rich, and there had been rumours that he was involved with organised crime, including, ironically, a black market slave trade. If he had been a mobster being sentenced to mindwiping had probably saved James from being murdered in jail.
Further investigation revealed the link between James and the doctor who had recognised him - Doctor Holling from Pediatrics. They'd been interns together at James' first hospital. Greg didn't know if Holling knew the story of what happened to Doctor James Wilson, or if his shock had come from the sight of his former colleague wearing a slave collar. Although he'd listened hard to the rumour mill since that encounter he'd heard no mention of it. Maybe James was safe. Greg hoped so, the prospect of James being taken away from here was something his mind shied away from. Greg had never made a connection with anyone like he had with James - either while he was free, or since he'd been a slave. He had thought that he had no ability to care for anyone; James had proved that he did. It was too much to hope that James would be in his life forever, but he wasn't ready to lose him just yet.
He glanced at the time on the computer screen. Two hours had passed. Quickly he shut down the computer and slid it back into its hiding place, taking care to replace the panel so that not a crack showed. Cuddy didn't search his room often, and when she did her inspections were usually cursory. He made sure to always have one or two small items of contraband carelessly hidden that she could find easily. A few spare Vicodin, or a stash of chocolate bars, meant a paddling or caning, but after finding them she didn't bother looking further.
He turned off the bare light over his bed and lay down on the bunk. There were only a couple of hours left before he had to get up and start the morning's work. Even so, it was a while before he could get to sleep.
James was busy in Doctor Foreman's office, carefully copying some figures from the computer to the files laid out on the table. Doctor Foreman had been called down to the new wing to sort out some dispute or other. Normally James would have gone with him but instead Foreman had given him cursory instructions and told him that he expected the work done by the time he got back. He didn't often leave James alone, or instruct him to do anything but menial work so James diligently got to work - he hoped that one day Doctor Foreman would treat him more like Doctor Cuddy treated Greg.
As he worked his attention wavered. He'd seen Doctor Foreman using the computer to do research, as well as to check on various companies and people that he encountered. He didn't know that much about it, but he wondered if he could put his own name into the computer and see if he could find anything out about himself.
He glanced at the door. He didn't know how long Doctor Foreman would be, and he realised that using the computer to do unauthorised research, especially into his own history, would be a grave offense. Greg had said he should forget about it. But that was easy for Greg to say. There was someone here, in this hospital, who knew about him. His tone had been astonished but friendly until he realised that James was a slave. He hadn't berated James for knocking him over, or clipped a chip on his collar instructing his owner to punish him. Maybe he'd once been a friend.
He clicked away from the spreadsheet he was on and saw the screen behind. There was a box labelled 'search'. He started to laboriously type James Wilson into it.
"What are you doing?" His head jerked up and he snatched his hands off the keyboard before he saw Greg standing in the open doorway.
Greg glanced behind him and then came into the room. He looked at the screen. Cursing, he reached out and quickly pressed a sequence of keys, bringing the spreadsheet back up.
"You can't just search like that. It leaves a history, he'll know what you've been doing, you moron. I told you to quit it."
"You'd do it," James said, annoyed at Greg.
Greg looked at him, a strange expression on his face.
"Yeah, maybe I would, but I'd do it so I wouldn't get caught. You have a lot to learn about being sneaky. Do you want to get whipped?"
"Maybe I wouldn't have gotten caught."
Greg snorted, "yeah, right." He reached over and picked a file up off the desk. "Cuddy sent me here to get this; I've got to get back. Look, don't do anything stupid. I found out some things. I'll tell you tonight if Foreman comes over for a booty call. Okay?"
James was startled; he didn't know that Greg had been looking into it himself. For a moment he felt stubborn but then he conceded. He really didn't want to get whipped, or jeopardise his place here. "Okay," he said.
Two minutes after Greg left Doctor Foreman returned and his slave, James presented the figures to him, receiving a cool nod of acknowledgment from his Master.
"What do you think they do in there?" Foreman asked after the slaves had been sent away. Their meal had been professionally prepared as always, the dirty dishes cleaned away and their drinks served by their slaves. As she usually did Lisa had sent them to Greg's room, she'd told him before that she disliked having her slave around when she was with someone. Foreman had never objected to Jimmy being dismissed, if Lisa didn't like having Greg around while she was with him, he expected that she wouldn't like Jimmy any better.
Lisa curled up by his side, her small form fitting nicely against him. "As long as they aren't bothering us does it matter? Sometimes it's nice to have a break from having responsibility for a slave. Keeping Greg in line, and occupied, is a constant battle and he does get tiresome. Having Jimmy around seems to be good for him, I've only had to discipline him a few times since you came, maybe being around such a well behaved slave has been a good example for him."
Foreman frowned. Although he had no doubt that Jimmy was a good influence on Greg he wasn't sure the same applied in reverse. Not that he'd had any reason to doubt Jimmy's commitment as a slave - his own apartment was just as spotless as Lisa's house, and Jimmy was competent at preparing meals, running Foreman's bath, and doing all the other household tasks he was set. Add that to a growing usefulness at the hospital and Jimmy was almost the perfect slave - and he wanted to keep it that way.
"Do you think we should try to keep them separated more? Slaves really shouldn't be spending so much time alone with each other." He'd ordered several books on slave keeping when he bought Jimmy, nearly all of them had stressed how important it was for a slave to be as isolated as possible, so that they became completely dependent on their Master or Mistress. Only one of the books had a more liberal approach, advocating a sort of 'free-range' slave philosophy, espousing the view that giving a slave more freedom would lead to a better performed slave. Foreman had donated that one after reading only a couple of chapters. New age nonsense. Jimmy needed a tight rein, and that's what he had given him, except for the few hours he spent at Lisa's.
"Keeping them apart is going to be difficult when you move in," Lisa said. "Let them go, if they start acting out we have the perfect punishment for them."
He stared down at her. "I'm moving in?" He'd thought about it of course, there'd been seeing each other for months now, and going home to an empty bed after spending the evening with Lisa was getting less and less appealing.
"I've got plenty of room. It would be nice to spend the night with each other instead of you coming for dinner and sex and then going. After the Fund Raiser perhaps? It will give the whole hospital something new to gossip about."
"Well, when you put it like that..." he smiled and bent his head to kiss her, his concerns about Jimmy forgotten.
"I'm a murderer?"
They were both sitting on Greg's bed. James had listened intently as Greg had told him what he'd found out. James didn't ask how, he knew Greg had many methods of gaining information. Maybe one day he'd share them with James, but for now all that mattered was what he was saying.
He'd known, of course, that he must have done something terrible. They didn't enslave people for jaywalking. He could have fallen foul of the three strikes rule, but that seemed unlikely as he'd been a doctor, not some minimum wage guy on the streets. But knowing that, and hearing that he had been convicted of killing a patient, well, they were two different things.
Even the explanation that his patient had been involved in criminal activity himself was hardly comforting. Had he been involved with this patient somehow? Had the guy been threatening to turn him in so he'd killed him so that wouldn't happen? Greg didn't know, there wasn't a lot of detail online, there were many murders, and it only made the news in the first place because of the unusual circumstance of a doctor killing a patient.
"Well, technically, you were but it's not like you were a serial killer or something. And hey, patients can be pretty annoying. Pretty sure if I'd been a doctor I would have killed one or two."
"It's not funny!" James snapped. "That's my life you're talking about. I'm a killer."
"No," Greg shook his head, "you're a slave. When they made you a slave your criminal record became irrelevant. All that makes you different to us other scum is that you can never be freed. As if you ever would be anyway." Slaves could be freed, in theory, in practice they almost never were - why would anyone bother? If someone had enough money to buy a slave they weren't going to waste it by then freeing him or her.
"I killed someone, Greg."
"You're not that person anymore; the mindwiping took care of that, like it was supposed to. You can't remember anything from your old life can you?"
James shook his head. He sometimes had vague feelings of familiarity, as he had in paediatric oncology with that little girl, but nothing concrete. Even when Greg told him about his trial he'd remembered nothing. He really wasn't that person anymore. Whatever it was that had driven him to kill didn't exist now.
"I shouldn't have told you. You're going to obsess about this now aren't you?"
"No." James shook his head. "You're right. What Doctor James Wilson did in some Canadian hospital doesn't matter. I'm not him." He looked up at Greg who was sitting close beside him, and stared into his eyes. "Thank you for finding out, and thank you for telling me. At least now I know."
Greg swallowed and then nodded, not saying anything.
James was overtaken by a feeling of affection for this man who had come to mean everything in his life. He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips against Greg's. He could feel Greg stiffen in surprise and he squeezed his arm. Greg returned the pressure on his lips and then quickly broke away.
The men stared at each other. James could feel his heart beating wildly and he fancied he could hear Greg's doing the same.
James had had sex, many times, since being enslaved. If you could call it having sex when another man, or woman, used your body to fulfil themselves, much as they would use a vibrator, or a dildo. There had been no emotion involved. He'd seen people kissing, around the hospital, and on the glimpses of television he'd caught at Doctor Foreman's apartment, he'd even witnessed an occasional piece of affectionate behaviour between Foreman and Cuddy. He knew there was a difference between how Foreman used his body (and presumably how Cuddy used Greg's although he never talked about it), and what he felt for Greg. He also knew that what they had just done was forbidden for slaves.
"No," Greg said. "We can't." He backed away, shaking his head.
James felt a wave of disappointment at Greg's words. He opened his mouth to protest and then his attention was caught by the signal light flashing on. For a moment he wanted to ignore it, to hell with the consequences, but Greg was already moving, a quick look of relief in his eyes, as if he couldn't wait to escape from here. He bowed his head, of course Greg wouldn't want him - he'd just found out that he had killed someone, why would Greg want to be with him?
As he gathered together Foreman's belongings and took them out to the car he just hoped that Greg would still want to be his friend.
Cuddy gave the final briefing in the morning to the company that was dealing with the hospital's fundraiser. The event was to be held the next night and she wanted everything to go perfectly. Her slave stood silently behind her chair as she ticked off details with Justine, she'd worked with the woman before and found her to be competent. Still, nothing could be left to chance for an occasion as important as this.
"We'll need some private areas on the night," Cuddy said. "Those rooms should be furnished with the usual equipment." She eyed the woman who nodded gracefully.
"Of course, Doctor Cuddy. Please let me know if any of those attending have special needs to be met, we have most items in stock but will need to know if there is anything out of the ordinary." Her eyes flicked to Greg, a slight smile on her face, "will you need any additional slaves or will you be supplying them yourself?"
"Our doctors have gracefully donated the services of eight slaves, and our Chairman is also donating three of his for the night. We'll need a holding room for them to stay when they're not being used. My slave, Greg, will be on hand during the night for running errands and any other tasks I need him to do but he won't be used in that capacity of course." She smiled slightly and the other woman joined her in the joke.
"I think that covers everything," Cuddy stood, gathering up her papers. She handed them off to Greg and saw him catching a glimpse of the list on top with the names of the serving slaves that had been arranged - Jimmy was first on the list. She knew he wouldn't be pleased - well, too bad, it would do Jimmy, and Greg, no harm to remember that he was just an ordinary slave, with no special privileges. Eric still didn't like it but he was resigned to the fact. She just hoped Vogler would show a little restraint, if Jimmy was injured or incapacitated she didn't want to have to deal with both Eric and Greg sulking about it.
"I hope the night is successful for you," Justine said, holding out her hand.
"Oh, I'm sure it will be, we have some very generous donors, and they do appreciate their needs being met."
She returned to her car and drove back to the hospital. When they were nearly there she heard Greg clear his throat.
"Ma'am, Jimmy could help me on the night, he'll be able to get around a lot quicker than I can."
She clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Jimmy's services have already been allocated. I'm sure he will be far too busy to help you."
"You can change that. There are other slaves who can do that."
"That's enough, Gregory. This is none of your business; I don't want to hear another word from you."
She thought he was going to protest again but instead he slumped down in the harness, a scowl on his face.
Instead of going to the courtyard for their lunch Greg led James up to the sixth floor. Once there he ducked into a fire escape and went up another flight of concrete stairs, and onto the roof. They weren't actually forbidden to be up here - but it wasn't somewhere they were authorized to be either. Making the trip up the stairs wasn't easy for him now, but sometimes he did it just to have a different view for a while. From here they could see all over Princeton. He wanted James to be able to see it.
He sat down on one of the low walls and watched as James stared out over the city, an expression of longing on his face - Greg knew how he felt. He sometimes watched the people down there, freely going about their business and imagined how it would be if he was one of them.
"We shouldn't be here," James said eventually, tearing his eyes away from the view and eyeing the fire door apprehensively. Some cigarette butts around the doorway were testimony to the usual use the roof was put to.
Greg shrugged, there were a lot of things he shouldn't do that he did anyway. James had been quiet all day and he wanted to talk to him after they what had happened the night before. And he wanted to warn him about tomorrow.
James eventually seemed to make up his mind and he came to sit beside Greg, his body language stiff.
"Oh, stop sulking! I didn't say 'no' because of what I found out about you."
"It doesn't matter," James said dully, staring at the ground, "I shouldn't have done that. I should have known you didn't feel the same way."
Greg remembered the sweet taste of James on his lips and the way the kiss had made him feel. He'd never had a kiss like that. Cuddy had never kissed him, nor had anyone else who used him, except for one of her friends in college. She'd been drunk and trying to be edgy he thought, kissing a slave for shit and giggles. There had been a group of them and all the others had laughed and made sounds of disgust as he lay there and the woman kissed him.
James' kiss hadn't been anything like that.
It was all he could do to keep his hands to himself now. If he didn't care for him so much he'd be all over him, slave regulations be damned. He'd never felt about anyone the way he did about James.
"You don't want me, James. Not like that."
James stared at him, mouth opening slightly in astonishment. "Yes, I do, you know I do."
Greg shook his head. "No, you were mindwiped, emptied of everything you knew, and they put back a load of shit in your head. Told you how you had to be a perfect little sex toy, how you had to let people use you. They took away any choice you had, they took away the idea that you should even be able to choose. You can't make choices like that for yourself yet, you think I've been nice to you so you have to do something like that for me." He fiddled with his cane and then twirled it in place, "you don't want someone like me."
James was still gaping at him, those damned soft brown eyes all wide and puzzled. "You think I kissed you because I thought I had to?"
"Not in so many words but you've been brainwashed into -----"
"That's crap!" James stood up, his arms waving around, his expression angry in a way that went straight through Greg. "I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you." He loomed over Greg, his hands going to his hips. "I'm not a child , you don't need to protect me."
But that's exactly what you are , Greg thought, you've been 'awake' for only a little over a year .
"Why would you want to do anything with me, when you don't have to?" Greg asked. "Why would you risk a whole lot of trouble for that?" He gestured to himself, "I've been a slave since I was twelve, I'm not particularly good looking, and I’m not charming, or nice, or fun to be with. Why would you want me?"
"I'm a slave too, and they tell me I am good looking, and cute, and my Master liked fucking me, but I didn't have any choice in that. I have to spend a lot of time with him, and I don't enjoy it, but you - I enjoy spending time with you. You're funny, and smart, and you know so much, and when I'm with you I feel special. I feel like I'm worth something. I think even if we weren't slaves, if we'd met at some bar or something, I'd want to be your friend. And I'd want to kiss you."
They were both standing now, inches apart, and James reached out a hand to touch Greg's sleeve.
"You know the worst about me, but if you want me, I want you."
"I want you," Greg said, the words coming without his conscious control. “But…”
There was the sudden sound of men's voices and they sprung apart, remembering where they were. A group of orderlies had come out onto the roof, cigarettes in hand. They hadn't spotted the slaves yet and Greg gestured to James to follow him. They walked quietly back to the door, almost reaching it before being spotted.
"Hey, you slaves, stop there." One of the group said and they stopped, but didn't go their knees. The man stared at them and then glanced at his friends. "Arrogant slaves, maybe we'd better show them how to kneel."
The other men came around behind them and forced both slaves to their knees before they could do so voluntarily. Greg felt a heavy pair of hands on his shoulders, holding him down. He glanced at James who was kneeling passively but was similarly pinioned.
"Sir, we need to report to Doctor Cuddy, she is expecting us." Greg said, keeping his tone polite but firm. He didn't know this man, but this was a dangerous situation for them. He looked away from James, hoping to draw the men's attention away from him.
"Sure she is, she probably wants a quick one, “the man laughed.
"Hey, that’s Doctor Cuddy's slave - the gimpy one, I've seen him around Mick. That bitch likes to keep him to herself - better let him go. We don't want any trouble." The man holding Greg said, loosening his grip.
“Pretty boy can give me a nice suck first.” Mick unzipped himself and moved over to where James was kneeling. “Open up wide, slave, nice present for you.”
“No, Mick. You can’t - the other one belongs to Doctor Foreman, and I’ve heard he won’t share him out. And he’s fucking Cuddy. You don’t want to lose this job, do you? Let them go.”
Mick paused with his hand on his dick and then zipped himself back up. “Don’t want a blow from some filthy slave anyway, who knows where that mouth has been.” He glanced at Greg and sneered. Then he shoved James off balance. “Fuck off you two, and don't come up here again."
Greg didn't wait to be told twice; he struggled to his feet and started off down the stairs, feeling a boot brush his ass as he went. James stumbled next to him and he figured he'd received the same treatment.
They didn't stop until the fire door and then Greg looked back up the stairs but the men hadn’t pursued them.
“James, I…” he stopped, what could he say? That he wanted a relationship with him? That was a fantasy, what had just happened was the reality - it was their reality. He stopped and James looked away. “We’d better get back to work,” Greg said and pushed the door back into the hospital open. Without another word between them they went back to their respective owners.
It wasn't until later that Greg realised that he hadn't warned James about tomorrow night.