Stephen, Part II, Chapter 6 1/2, NC-17, American Idol
Title: Stephen, Part II, Chapter 6
Author: amproof
Pairing: Adam/Stephen, Adam/Kris, OMC/Stephen
Rating: NC-17 overall
Word count: 11,507
Warnings: High possibility of triggering content. Non-AU sexual slavery (Kris) and requisite abuse: physical, mental, sexual, mainly in flashbacks. PTSD, brainwashing. This chapter: Pretty much all listed warnings, plus under-age (17).
Genres: angst, hurt/comfort, healing/recovery, amnesia, mystery
Betas: brimtoast has sole rein on this one. Thank you so much for helping me with this. If it hasn't improved, it's only my fault.
Notes: This is revised from my story on aianonlovefest, which was inspired by a prompt on ai_kinkmeme for rescued sex slave Kris.
Summary: Kris has been missing for three years. When Adam finds him, he's not the person he used to be. In fact, he doesn't know who he used to be.
Previously: Part I
Chapters 1-5, 6-8, 9-10
Part II
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5
Poster by katekat1010
When Master pulled his cock out of Stephen's mouth and came on Stephen's face, Stephen shuddered in pleasure. He knew that with Master there would be no question about what it meant, and that only Master could be the one to wipe his mark away. Master looked down at him, and Stephen floated in the welcome familiarity of the warm expression in Master's eyes. Master never made him feel confused because he knew what Master wanted from him. Master told him, and he didn't hide his pleasure from Stephen. The time he’d spent away from Master had just been one confusing thing after another, but now he wouldn't have to worry about that anymore. He only had one person to please now, and he already knew that Master loved him. That made him feel safe. He hadn't felt safe like this in so long. He smiled up, wanting to tell Master all of this, but something stopped him from speaking. It would ruin the mood, perhaps, and he didn't want anything to break it.
Master curled his fingers behind Stephen's ear and gently cuffed him. "Come along, Stephen."
Stephen wriggled towards the touch as happiness swelled within him. Master couldn't know what it meant to hear his name again. And he didn't have to ask for it, didn't have to make any claims on it. "Y-yes, Master," he said, only just managing to get the reply out over the force of his gratitude, which made speaking feel like choking.
Master turned and started walking deeper into the house. Stephen crawled behind him, never once considering getting to his feet and following. It wasn't just that crawling was a rule, it was that it pleased Master, and when Master looked down at him and smiled, Stephen decided that he never wanted to stand up again. He had tried so hard to get his family and friends to reward him with the same proud and loving expression Master was turning towards him now, but he had only succeeded in winning pity from them. When he had done something right, every reaction had been tinged with the memory of the person he no longer was. He didn't want to be looked at with sad smiles. He wanted to make people happy, but he couldn't do that if the one thing they wanted, he couldn't give. With Master, he only had to be himself. He hadn't imagined that the relief would be this great, but he took it in and embraced it.
He wondered if Master still had the little bed where Stephen used to sleep. It was tucked inside a closet-sized room just off of Master's bedroom. Stephen had thought of it as his room, and he had liked it because he could hear Master sleeping while he was inside it. He liked it even better than his room in New York, although it was smaller, because of that.
Master walked into the living room and sat down on his chair, a stiff backed green leather one with an ornately carved wooden framework. Stephen knelt beside him. He mewled a little when Master took him by the chin and tilted his face up, and Master bent down to give his cock an affectionate pat. Stephen couldn't stop his hips from snapping forward. He pulled back immediately and prepared to kiss Master's fingers in apology, but Master smiled at him fondly.
"Now, Stephen. You mustn't be pushy. I decide when your pretty cock gets used. You know that."
"Yes, Master." Stephen dropped his head further as his cheeks grew warm with shame. He'd ruined it. He hadn't been good and now Master would send him away. What was he going to do now? He forced the thought away. It wasn't his business to worry about things like that anymore. If Master wanted to punish him, he would. If he wanted to send Stephen away, he would, even though Stephen knew it would cause Master pain...had caused Master pain. He whimpered as he remembered his last moments with Master before Brad took him away. He squeezed his eyes closed so he wouldn't cry, but then remembered that he was not allowed to hide his emotions, so he turned his wet eyes upon Master.
Master stroked his thumbs over Stephen's eyelids, wiping the moisture away. "But you're such a good boy to come home where you belong. And you probably haven't been treated like you need to be. Tell me, Stephen, did those people make you feel like I did?"
Stephen shook his head. He wanted to cling to Master's leg until his misery faded away, wanted some signal that this would be accepted. Master scritched his fingers through Stephen's hair. Stephen flattened his hands on his knees and let it be enough, even though internally he was shaking with the need to wrap himself around Master and not let go. Master had never been a cuddler, though, so Stephen forced himself to be satisfied with what Master did give to him, which was so much. It was love, unquestioning and dedicated.
"That's why you came home, isn't it?"
"Yes, Master."
"It's been a long time. You've probably forgotten a lot of our rules, but you learned them well the first time, and you'll learn them well again. Won't you?"
"Yes, Master." He was glad that Master had such faith in him.
"Your cock is hard, Stephen."
Stephen looked down.
"Did your new master use you like you're meant to be used? Were you a pretty hole for him?"
He knew that he should look Master in the eye when he answered, but embarrassment forced him to lower his gaze to the floor. "He didn't...um...he didn't want me. I tried to be good for him, I really did, but he..." Adam had given him choices, and Stephen hadn't known what to do. And yet, Master had told him to be good when he gave him away. Stephen had failed and let Master down. Even if the circumstances turned out to be different than he ever could have imagined, that was still no excuse for letting Master down. "It was different," he said. "My new master, he knew me from before, and he wanted me to be like that, and, and I couldn't. I tried, but..."
"Shh. It's O.K. I know what happened. I saw you on the news with your family. I saw how lost you looked. My darling, you can't know how much I wanted to reach out to you."
Stephen nodded against Master's hand as the words calmed and soothed him.
Master's hand moved to his back and stroked down it until he relaxed enough to let go and sit up again. "That's my good boy. I have something for you." There was a small sidetable beside the chair, and he reached over to pull open its drawer. Stephen sat up a little straighter so he could see. His heart leapt when Master pulled out a collar. It was a deep green, leather, and about one inch wide. He shuffled forward to press himself even closer to Master's knees. Master scratched beneath Stephen's ear. "Because you came back." He held out the collar. Stephen stretched his neck forward, and Master buckled it around him. He pulled Stephen into a kiss then, and Stephen couldn't help humping the air as the pleasure, relief and happiness melded within him into a sharp desperation to be touched.
"Welcome home," Master said.
"Thank you, Master." Stephen smiled up at him. He felt hazy, but pleasantly so. The burden of thought had been lifted completely. Master would take care of him now, and then he would start to take care of Master, just as he had done before.
"Now, it's a horrible shame that no one has taken care of you, sweetheart." He petted Stephen's cock again. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you get what you need. But first I have a surprise for you." He stood up and headed for the back of the house. Stephen crawled behind happily, his stomach already fluttering with nervous excitement over what would await him in the playroom. Perhaps Master would strap him to the bench and tease his hole for hours or play with his nipples or even both. Master hadn't ever done something like that before, at least, not for so long and not without fucking him after. But maybe, since Stephen had come back to him, Master would want to use him like this. Stephen would happily give his body over for whatever Master wanted. He was already imagining how he would writhe under Master's ministrations, and how they would go on and on until he was mindless with pleasure.
He was so preoccupied with imagining this that he bumped into the back of Master's legs. He scooted backwards immediately and sat down on his heels, waiting for the command to mount the bench. The rules within the playroom were slightly different than the rest of the house. Speaking was not allowed without direct permission. He was only allowed to utter sounds that came from pleasure and need as Master touched and used him. In the playroom, Stephen's attention had to be on Master at all times, even when he was tied down. In the rest of the house, he could speak if he wanted unless Master said not to, and he could take initiative to serve Master's pleasure, but in this room, Master's pleasure was that Stephen remain quiet and do what he was told and nothing else.
Master said, "Stephen, say hello to Mark." Stephen looked up, confused. Master stepped out of the way so Stephen could see that they were not alone in the room.
Stephen froze. He couldn't help a small, jealous sound escaping as he looked at the man who was already on the bench. So many times Stephen had laid on it, happily strapped down for his master to use him, so who the fuck was this?? Master scratched the top of Stephen's head, and Stephen leaned into the touch, his glare never wavering from the back of the man's head. Stephen felt a little sick, too, that Master had replaced him. He shouldn't blame Master for that, though. He couldn't have known that Stephen would come back to him. He had probably waited as long as he could, but Stephen knew that Master needed someone to care for him, someone to keep his affairs in order from the finances to the food. So Master had found someone. The guy probably thought he was so hot, taking Stephen's place. Well, Stephen would just bet that this asshole didn't know what Master really liked. He was probably a shitty substitute and it was a good thing Stephen had come back to care for Master properly.
"Stephen," Master said sternly. He gave Stephen's collar a sharp tug.
"Hello," Stephen mumbled.
"Now, don't be jealous," Master said. The guy turned his head so Stephen could glare to his face.
Except...except the blue eyes that locked on his weren't smug at all. They were furious and, maybe, a little bit terrified above the wide O of his mouth made by the ring gag. Stephen swallowed. He wanted to reel backwards, away from the gaze that was now turned on him, but Master still had him firmly by the collar and was pulling him forward.
He put his hand on Mark's head, and Mark jerked backwards, looking as if he would bite Master's hand if not for the gag. Stephen winced in sympathy. He never liked it when Master made him wear one, since it stretched his jaw out past the point of comfort, even though he could see the necessity of it when he was expected to service many cocks one after another. But now there was only Master's cock to be served, so it seemed like overkill. Perhaps guessing what Stephen was thinking, Master traced a finger around the inside of the gag and then slapped Mark on the cheek, just hard enough to get his attention. "He's not a good boy like you. He bites."
It looked as if Mark would do more than bite if he were released. Master had moved down to Mark's ass, though, and began fucking him with the buttplug that was already inside him as Mark thrashed within his confines. "But he'll soon learn that we do not tolerate biting here." He paused. "Unless it is requested, of course." He gave a gentle smile before he continued talking. "I won't blame you for being upset with me, Stephen. It must be quite a shock to come back and find someone else here. But he isn't replacing you, darling. No one ever could. I want the both of you, you see. Mark has a beautiful cock, and when he is trained like you, he's going to fuck you with it. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Being tied on your back so Mark can fuck you with his big cock? I might even strap him at the same time."
Stephen looked down uncertainly. He didn't really want Mark to fuck him, but if Master wanted it...
"Now, darling, do you remember how when I first asked you to serve the men who had pleased me? Remember how you were nervous, but I stayed with you and reminded you how special you are? How you are a lovely prize?"
Stephen nodded. He had certainly not forgotten how Master had stayed beside him the first few times to calm him, and how he had felt after the men were gone and Master's praise only increased tenfold. Master had supervised every session after that, but those first ones had mattered the most.
"I will stay with you when Mark fucks you," Master said. "It will be the same. But this time you will not be the prize. You will be getting the reward. Because your pretty little hole deserves a cock like Mark's." He reached out and tugged on Mark's hair, tilting the stretched face upwards. "But Mark is a long way off from deserving you. A very long way." He dropped Mark's head abruptly, and the terrified eyes were once again turned towards Stephen.
Even though Stephen had begun to blush when Master talked about why he wanted Mark to fuck him, and maybe even feel a certain itch for it--not quite desire, but closer to curiosity--that made him shift on his heels, seeing Mark's face set alarms off in his head. It didn't seem right. There had to be a difference between someone who was an untrained submissive and someone who wasn't submissive at all. Stephen wondered if he was looking at the difference.
He swallowed and pushed his courage up. "Master? May I ask a question?" He prayed that Master would allow it and not simply punish him for speaking.
"Yes, darling. But you know that you are not allowed to speak in here unless I tell you to first. I'll make an exception for you now. I understand these must be very confusing circumstances."
Stephen breathed out a sigh of relief. He paused, and tried to fix the right words to what he wanted to say so that he could get his worries across. "Why is he here? It doesn't seem like he wants to be." He edged closer to Mark's head. Now that Master had moved out of Mark's eyeline, there was not so much rage in Mark's expression. Instead, he stared dully at Stephen.
"He is here because I wanted him to be," Master said. "Just as you were here because I wanted you to be. From the moment I saw each of you, I knew I had to have you. If only he was as much of a pleasure to train as you were..." He smiled fondly at Stephen. "Such a good boy, Stephen. Always my favorite."
Stephen smiled back and crawled over to him. It was a good answer. It was the one he needed, and it made sense. He had been so proud when Master had chosen him. He had been lost and alone, but Master had been there for him, and it was still his most wonderful memory when Master had asked him to come home with him. "You knew that I would be yours when you were caring for me in the hospital, right, Master?"
"Oh, no, sweetheart. Long before that." He didn't continue, just smiled and pushed his fingers into Stephen's mouth for him to suck. They were cool and tasted a little musky, probably from playing with Mark's plug. Stephen closed his eyes and sucked obediently. There was something in Master's wording that niggled at the back of Stephen's mind, but he couldn't quite grasp hold of it. He concentrated instead on Master's fingers. He was happy to suck for as long as Master would allow it. He pulled them into his mouth and swept his tongue around and between them. Still, the thought...something...what was it? Something definitely not right. Master had said...what? He'd said, 'long before that.' Yes. That was. That was wrong. Master couldn't have meant before the hospital.
There was only one way Master could have known him before... The thought registered so abruptly that it was almost painful in its clarity. There was only one way that Master could have known about Stephen before the accident, and that was if he knew about Kris. If he had watched Idol. And then followed him. Waited for him, maybe, and...
Stephen pulled away from the fingers. Suddenly they were too big, too dangerous to have in his mouth where Master could twist them or press down on his tongue or shove them in deep.
"What did you...what did you mean, 'long before that?"
"Stephen," Master said. "Your permission to speak is limited." This time the warning in his voice was clear, but Stephen shook his head and drew back a little more.
"You knew who I was. You knew me."
"Stephen?" Master asked. It wasn't a denial. His fingers hovered in front of Stephen's mouth, as if waiting re-admittance. It was almost as if he was surprised that Stephen hadn't already realized that everything had started long before the hospital. What if he'd seen him on Idol and decided then to find him? What if he'd been following him? Or had hired someone else to follow him? The car accident would have been the perfect stroke of luck to grab him... Stephen's head jerked up and he inhaled sharply. Suddenly, he could see it clearly--headlights behind him. Another car coming on fast and he had swerved to avoid it and...gone off the road. Oh God. The accident was on purpose.
Stephen stared up at Master, no...at Smith. Stephen thought the name with all the bile he could muster. This man didn't deserve to be called Master. He tried to form words out of speechlessness. "I had a family. Friends. A life. You took me away from them. You took my life away. You erased me."
He surged to his feet, incandescent with rage and swaying to stay upright after kneeling for so long. "I thought...I thought you loved me. I thought you were the only person I had in this world and...and you..." He collapsed forward, stomach clenching with dry heaves since he hadn't eaten since the plane and had nothing in him to vomit up. Too weak to struggle, he soon found himself cradled in Smith's arms. He turned and began to weep into Smith's chest and hated himself for it. "You don't know what it's been like this past month. You can't imagine..." After all he'd been through, now to discover that that they had been right about Smith all along. He felt like he was back at square one, only now he had nowhere to go.
"Hush." Smith held him and tried to soothe him, but each touch only made Stephen want to retch again. "You're right. I can't imagine what those people must have tried to tell you. But you should know this: I wanted you from the moment I saw you on the television. You were such a beautiful boy. I knew that you would be mine. And you've come back to me, which means that you know it, too."
Stephen twisted until he was on the floor. His stomach was in knots. He landed on his ass, and stared at Smith with his jaw agape. "I'm not staying. You don't honestly think I'm staying? You stole me." He forced himself to his feet and started tugging on Mark's bindings.
"Stephen, unless you want to get punished, I'd put my forehead on the floor right now."
"Did you steal him, too? I trusted you." He was spitting more than talking. Flecks of it landed on Mark's pale skin. "We're leaving. Mark and I, we're leaving right now."
"No, you aren't."
Stephen had never heard such a cold tone come from Smith. Rather than force him to his knees, it solidified in his brain that he had no idea who Smith was. He had been wrong. So very wrong. He tugged harder on the bindings, trying to find the trick to loosen them.
He didn't notice the black hood coming over his head until it was too late.
The moment he was captured in darkness, he was thrust forward and his hands were wrenched behind his back and cuffed. He bumped his head against Mark's hip and then against the bench as he was forced to his knees. Smith put one knee on Stephen's back and pulled his arms sharply upwards, rendering movement impossible. A moment later, shackles closed around his ankles and he was released. He tried to move, but a tight chain connecting the cuffs and shackles kept him into a forced kneeling position. Next, he felt a blunt finger at his asshole, poking in slick but not making any effort to stretch him. No. No. No. No. He knew what that had to mean. He had been very bad, so much worse than he had ever been before. He wanted to protest that he could be a good boy, but Smith never paid attention to protestations when punishments were being doled out. And Stephen wasn't going to be good, not now. He was going to get out.
He screamed as Smith pushed the hard silicon plug inside him, easing off only to push harder when his asshole refused to cooperate. After a month without having anything in his ass, the dry buttplug felt like it would split him open. He shivered in relief when it was finally inside and his hole was allowed to close around the wide base, but then Smith tilted him up so he was sitting on his heels, which only pushed the plug deeper inside. Then, he was picked up, flung over Smith's shoulder, and carried out of the room. His knees recognized the linoleum of the kitchen floor as Smith ripped the hood off him. Stephen started to yell, just to make noise even though he knew no one could hear, but Smith grabbed his face and pushed his fingers into Stephen's jaw, forcing it open while making speech impossible. He shoved a ball gag in, so huge it made Stephen's eyes water as Smith fastened it around the back of his head. Next he pulled a leash from his pocket and clipped one end to Stephen's collar and the other to a hook beneath the counter top that was invisible unless you knew where to look. With each addition, Stephen's panic increased. He had never been so thoroughly bound for a punishment. Before, Smith had always ordered him to stay still, and he had. He had loved Smith enough to do that. Now Smith had to know that the love was gone. He wasn't taking any chances. Stephen held himself very still and tried not to give away that he was terrified, even though it was probably painted across his face.
When he finished, Smith sat back and looked at Stephen sadly, as if he really had expected better from him. "You were my good boy, Stephen. But I don't want you to worry. I'll train you to be good again." He traced a thumb behind Stephen's ear. Stephen flinched away, which earned him the slow, disappointed smile again. "Only, I think this time when I'm finished, you'll know better than to question me or to even think about it." He patted Stephen's cheek. Each word was a new nightmare. He couldn't live like this. To sit around and wait to be broken? Stephen lunged forward and nearly choked himself. He fell backwards, gasping around the ball in his mouth. "I am truly sorry about this," Smith said. "I had hoped we could go back to normal. But I want you to always remember this: no one will ever love you like I do."
Stephen shook his head. Smith was a liar. He wasn't unloved. He had a family. Friends. He had those two days with Adam. And he had the song. He could keep it in his mind and let it guide his focus away from whatever was happening to him.
He tried not to let himself panic. He had to keep his mind clear so he could be aware of opportunities for escape. His mind wasn't listening to him, though. It was filling up with horrible visions of being tied and used, not just on special occasions, but all the time. His groin tightened, and he noticed that he was heavy with the need to urinate. He hadn't relieved himself since the airport, which had been hours earlier. Behind the gag, he couldn't tell Smith that he needed to go. He doubted that Smith would allow him to do it anyway. He would probably have to earn it. Smith had taken control of his whole body now, his every function. Stephen was going to live and die at Smith's whim. How could he not panic, knowing that? He had never been so terrified in his life.
Smith stroked over Stephen's hair again. "No one," he repeated. "I am all you have now."
Stephen stared at him. He tried to fight the hood coming down again, but he couldn't, and he was in darkness once more, this time with another collar on over top of it, a weighted one, which held it down and kept all the light out.
"Now you'll have to excuse me, darling. I must tend to Mark and explain the new situation to him. I didn't want him to see you misbehaving like this. I've been telling him what a good example you are, and then you go and... Well. I thought it inappropriate for him to see you being so difficult. Now, I want you to sit there with the plug in your bottom and think about what you've done. If you're a good boy, I may fuck you later. If not, I'm sure there are several other things we could do."
Stephen's tongue pressed against the ball in his mouth. He was glad that the hood was on so Smith couldn't see him cry. He forced his breathing to be even so he wouldn't choke. He'd really fucked up. Everyone had said that Smith had done terrible things to him, but he hadn't seen. Smith had been his hero and now... The man had known who he was. He forced himself to swallow. If he vomited now, he'd die. There couldn't be any...he was doomed. He'd cut everyone else out of his life. He'd willfully gone back to Smith. No one would try to find him now. He was alone. He tried to slump forward, but the chain at his neck kept him in miserable place. The first notes of Adam's song came into the back of his mind. He let himself drift towards them, away from the darkness. His legs went numb and his ass stubbornly refused to adjust to the monster inside it.
He didn't move when he heard footsteps returning. He wasn't sure how much time had passed. Smith had probably finished with Mark and was coming to punish him. Maybe if he played possum, he could convince Smith that he was safe and then, when Smith had let his guard down, he'd take Mark and run.
But Smith had destroyed him last time. Did he have a chance against him? Or was Smith going to break him completely and then kill him once he was all used up? If Smith was going to turn him into the mindless slut he seemed to imply, then maybe Stephen would prefer that...
He reared back from the light as the hood was ripped from beneath the weighted collar. "Kristopher Allen?"
Stephen squinted to orient his vision to the body attached to the voice. A police officer stood slightly to the front of him. "Are you Kristopher Allen?"
Stephen nodded. Thank God. Thank God. There were two other policemen there, too. That would be enough to stop Smith so he could get away. He shuffled forward, as much as the chains would allow and tried to indicate with his eyes that he was ready to go.
But then Smith butted in. "He's a grown man here of his own accord. You have no right to--"
Oh God. This couldn't be happening. Stephen tried shaking his head. The officer wasn't looking at him, though. He was looking at Smith. Stephen struggled to make noise around the gag.
"Mr. Smith, we have a warrant to search Mr. Allen's possessions." The officer pulled it out and handed it over to Smith, who read it and handed it back.
The officer waved it beneath Stephen's nose. "Would you mind removing the gag? I need him to acknowledge that he understands."
"Mr. Allen is in deep bondage right now," Smith said with a certain condescension, as if he were talking to a child who had stumbled into the adults' dinner party. "It takes a very long time to get him into it, and I don't want to undo it all just to redo it after you've gone. Perhaps a nod would do?"
The officer shrugged and turned to Stephen. "Nod if you understand that we have a warrant to search your possessions." Stephen nodded, even though he didn't understand. Policemen were supposed to help, weren't they? But these didn't seem like they cared that he was terrified and in trouble. He tried to convey, "save me" with his eyes, but Smith was giving him a look that said that the longer the policemen stayed, the worse it would be for him.
"Is this your suitcase?" another officer asked. Stephen was surprised to see it there, since he had left in the foyer when he'd first arrived, but he nodded again. The officer lifted it onto the kitchen table and opened it. He removed the clothing in one go and spread it out across the table. After a quick glance that seemed to take in every detail, he emptied out Stephen's toiletries and the few books he'd brought, including one that he'd intended to give to Smith. Stephen winced with self-hatred when he saw it.
"Well, if that's all," Smith said, but the officer ignored him. He dug his fingers into the bottom of the suitcase, and then pulled it up. For a second, only a second, it looked like the man allowed a smug smile onto his face. Then it was gone and the officer looked at Stephen grimly.
"Dr. Smith, we're going to ask you to remove his handcuffs now. We prefer to use ours."
"May I ask why?"
The officer lifted the item out of the bottom of the suitcase. It was a rectangular piece of polished wood. Stephen stared at it. It looked like the back of a plaque. It was sturdier than a frame. With the suitcase being hard plastic, he never would have noticed it. Maybe whoever had used the suitcase last had forgotten to unpack it and now Stephen was being accused to stealing it. Then the officer turned it around so he could see the front. His breath hitched as he recognized Adam's gold record. It was the one he had pointed to and called his favorite.
Here was proof that Adam had never abandoned him. That Adam loved him and had found a way to protect him even when he wasn't there. It was too much, too overwhelming. All the emotions fell on him at once: grief, disbelief, joy and relief, and then he didn't feel anything.
When Stephen opened his eyes, the officer was touching his shoulder, looking concerned. Stephen blinked at him. It seemed like there was a clouded screen between him and the officer. He tried to reach out, and was surprised when he actually could. He was still on the floor, but the gag, collar, cuffs and shackles were off. There was the pungent scent of urine, too, and he looked down and saw that he had wet himself. He poked himself in the stomach, trying to figure out how it had happened without his noticing--how any of it had happened. But it didn't matter because Adam had done this for him. Smith was wrong. Adam did love him. He'd planted the record in Stephen's suitcase, just like Joseph had buried his cup in Benjamin's sack, and he'd made sure that no matter what happened, he would still be able to get Stephen back. Stephen grinned stupidly at the officer, who was waving a hand in front of him.
"You fainted for a minute. Are you all right?" the officer asked. He reached out, as if he would touch Stephen's shoulder, but Stephen shrank away from him. Smith was standing near the other officer, staring at Stephen with a hateful and betrayed expression. Stephen ducked his head so he wouldn't have to look at him.
"He has a man tied up in the backroom," Stephen blurted. He had to get the words out quickly, in case he was going to be gagged again. He shrank back into the cabinets, bracing himself for the kicking that was sure to come. There was a flurry of noise, but no one touched him. He looked up to see two guns leveled at Smith. One officer nodded at the other, and the latter ran through the house. "Got him!" he yelled back a moment later.
"Mr. Smith. On your knees, hands behind your head. Now." The officer snapped the command, but Smith was still slow to move. He got down as if it were his idea.
Once Smith was cuffed, the one that Stephen had started to think of as 'his' officer, helped him to his feet. He handed Stephen a pair of jeans and a shirt from the suitcase. Stephen wobbled into the clothes, careful of the plug that was still snug in his bottom. He wished that he could be allowed to wash the dried urine off his chest, but the officer seemed like he didn't want to wait, so Stephen dressed as quickly as he could with his fingers shaking and his legs unsteady. Once he was finished, the officer said, "Let's try this again. Kristopher Allen, you are under arrest for theft. You have the right to remain silent..."
Stephen stared at the officer's mouth and held his hands out obediently when the officer asked for them. He even stared straight ahead when the other officer guided Smith out of the room. He was terrified that if he moved even a fraction of an inch, if he made the air change just that much, then all of this would disappear and he would still be on his knees, chained to the cabinet and waiting for his mind to be destroyed.
Stephen was put into a patrol car with one officer, while Smith was put into the back of another. He looked out the window at Stephen, and Stephen stared back at him. He couldn't keep it up, though, because the plug inside him made him wince, so he had to look away when Smith smirked at him. He knew that Smith knew exactly why he was wincing. Stephen's face grew hot. He folded himself over his knees, but this only put more pressure on the plug, so it was a constant, throbbing dull pain reminding him of what he had done, of the decision he had made in returning to Smith. The car with Stephen in it drove away, while Smith's car stayed there. The third officer, the one who had gone to find Mark, had not emerged from the house.
The officer didn't talk to him at all on the drive back to the station, and Stephen didn't say anything, either. Adam loved him. Adam had always loved him. He'd thought that Adam had given up on him, had cut him out, but all along Adam had been with him. Adam had saved him. Nothing would take that knowledge away from him. Not the plug in his ass, not the semen that was still on his face, not the urine that was sticking to his chest and stinking through his shirt, and not any person, either.
Nothing.
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Stephen was put into the same interview room that Adam had been in the last time he had been in the police station. The officer took his handcuffs off and gave him a plastic cup of water. "Wait here," he said. "Someone wants to talk to you before we proceed with booking."
Stephen nodded. It had to be Adam. He wasn't worried at all about being arrested. It was all part of Adam's plan to get him away from Smith, so Stephen sipped his water and waited.
It wasn't long before the door burst open, and there was Adam, looking frantic and terrible, paler than Stephen had ever seen him, as if the past month had shaved another few years off his life in addition to the ones that losing Kris in the first place had probably lost him. Stephen stumbled to his feet, wanting to say that he would give those years back if he could, just as Adam grabbed him by the front of the shirt. He pulled Stephen close. Stephen's arms automatically went around Adam's back, but Adam's eyes were darting back and forth over him. Every muscle in Adam's face was moving; it was as if Stephen could see all five senses going at once. On the rare occasion that Adam's eyes settled on his, Stephen had to look away because they were furious. Stephen began to shake. Adam's grip hadn't loosened on his shirt.
"I'm sorry," he said, "I'm really..."
But then Adam cut him off, not with words, but by shoving him against the table so he would have been sitting on it if Adam wasn't still holding him up. He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and plunged it into the cup of water. Stephen closed his eyes as Adam scrubbed his forehead and cheeks with no evident regard for whether or not he wanted Stephen to have any skin left once he was finished.
"Want him off you, that bastard. That God damned bastard," Adam said, and Stephen wasn't even sure if Adam knew that he was speaking. Stephen put his hands on Adam's waist and held on. Finally, Adam must have decided he was clean, or that he was as clean as he could be without a sandblaster and a boiling hot shower, because he let him go. Stephen slumped onto the table in the puddle made by his water toppling over. Adam tossed the handkerchief on top of it. "Did he fuck you?"
Stephen shook his head quickly. Adam's nostrils flared, but he nodded and seemed to ease off a bit.
"Thank you," Stephen said. "For...what you did."
Adam grabbed him again. This time his nose was twitching. "Why do you smell like piss?"
"I wet myself. When I saw the...when I knew you had..." He tried to wrench himself away, because it was embarrassing and he didn't want to talk about it, but Adam had him good. A sharp shake, and he looked at Adam, who still wore the expression of a man on a mission.
"Do you understand why the record was in your suitcase?"
"Joseph," Stephen said.
"Yeah. Joseph had the power to keep Benjamin with him, and he had the power to put Benjamin into prison. Well, guess what? So do I."
Stephen forced himself to meet Adam's eyes.
"Now listen to me. If you come home with me now, that's it. I don't press charges. But if you're going to go back to him right now, I will press charges. I will make sure you go to jail. I will do that to you rather than send you back to him. Do you understand? Do you understand that I can do that?"
"Yes." Stephen's answer came out on staggered breath, caused by a reaction to Adam's display of alpha-level ownership. Adam realized, perhaps, because he eased off a bit.
"You don't have to decide this second. But probably within five minutes, you need to decide. You don't have to stay with me. You can go with your family, or Daniel, or... Whatever you want. Just not him." Adam let him go, this time back into the chair that had miraculously not been overturned amidst all the scrambling around.
He leaned against the wall and squeezed the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry, too, for what it's worth. I thought it was better for you to go with your family. It seemed like... I know I fucked up, sleeping with you, and you felt like you had to be someone you're not. It was stupid of me."
Now that the harshness was out of the way, Adam seemed at a loss for what to do. He just stayed against the wall and stared at the air.
"It's not your fault. I should have believed you, all of you, when you told me what kind of person Smith was. I ignored you, though, and I went back to him. No one made me do it. Maybe I deserved what Smith was going to do to me."
"Don't say that," Adam said.
"No. It's true. I deserved everything." Cale. God. What Cale had said to him, and then he'd left the next day? Fuck. He had always thought of Kris as the jerk, but he was a jerk, too. He had done the same thing that Kris had done. Kris had left Adam, but Stephen had left everyone. "I thought Smith was better than all of you. I'm sorry I was so stupid."
Adam grabbed him again. Stephen tried to twist away. The shame was too much; he didn't deserve Adam's comfort, but Adam held tight. "Don't you fucking say that. None of this is your fault. It's his. The dickwad who brainwashed you. You know that now. It's going to be all right now, so quit feeling stupid or whatever, O.K.? You're not stupid."
Stephen let himself get tugged forward. "Yeah," he said, and tried to mean it.
"I want to come home with you," Stephen said into Adam’s shoulder. "I don't need five minutes or five seconds. I belong with you."
Adam sighed. "Stephen. You shouldn't say things like 'belong with'. You can't know that."
Stephen pulled back. "You are full of shit, you know that? You love me, but you won't admit it because you think you love who I used to be and not who I am now. Let me tell you something--you need to get your head out of your ass."
"My head isn't in my ass." Adam said, but he didn't flinch or try to dodge when Stephen poked him, hard, in the chest.
"I'm not Kris anymore."
"I know." Adam said in a pissy tone, as if he'd just been reminded that two and two were four.
"I'm not the Stephen you met a month ago, either."
"No?" This got a little more interest.
"Or even the one you walked out on."
Interest and a flash of hurt with that one. "It was for the best. Everyone said." He glanced at Stephen quickly and then looked away, but it was still enough for Stephen to see the pain in his expression.
He moved a little closer. Adam didn't move, but he kept his head turned away. Stephen put his hands on Adam's chest. "I taught myself to play the viola. I kind of suck, but I wrote a song."
"Yeah?" Somehow Adam got the word out around a swallow.
"I played it for my family. I was really proud of it, and do you know what they told me?"
Adam shook his head. He still seemed intent on looking anywhere but down where Stephen was.
"They said they liked it even better than when they'd heard it the first time. Back when I wrote it during the Idol tour."
Finally, Adam looked at him, and Stephen moved one hand up to Adam's neck. Adam was as still as stone.
"I don't remember writing it," Stephen said, "but I remember who I wanted to hear it for the first time. You. I remember listening to it with you." He rubbed Adam's neck. "There was something you said, though. I can almost picture you saying it, but I can't hear you." He squinted a little, as if this would bring the memory back.
"Writing a song is like finding a friend that you already met," Adam said quietly. He seemed to be shaking, despite how still he was holding himself.
"Yeah," Stephen said. "That was it."
"It was your, um, you were talking about how writing made you feel, but you weren't very good with words, so I summed it up for you. You said it was, that it was pretty good." He sounded uncertain, as if he wasn't sure what to do now that Stephen had laid this memory out before him, which could prove that he was still Kris and that he was still Stephen.
Stephen put just a tiny amount of pressure on Adam's neck, curling his fingers around the back. "I'm going to kiss you now." He didn't mean for it to come out like a question, but Adam nodded anyway, and leaned down, mouth parted. It felt strange to be the one initiating a kiss. He was certain he had never done it with Smith, and he felt awkward doing it now. But at the same time, he wanted to do it.
Their lips touched hesitantly at first, as if they were both seeking permission, not at all the passionate, possessive kiss that Stephen had envisioned himself giving. It was tinged mainly in disbelief and caution and didn't last more than a few seconds. Adam's hands stayed flat against the wall, and Stephen's stayed exactly where they were, too, on Adam's neck and on Adam's chest. Adam licked his lips when it was over, while Stephen let Adam's saliva dry on his, happy to have this to cover the memory of Smith.
"Can we go home now?" Stephen said.
"Yeah. Just stay here a minute, O.K.? I have to finish up some paperwork."
"O.K." Stephen sat back down. Adam stepped out of the room. A moment later, the shouting began. Stephen played with his empty cup and grinned as Adam tore into someone for not cleaning Stephen up, and the officer railed right back at Adam, saying that the priority was to remove him from the scene and that a bath would have slowed that down. The yelling went back and forth until finally the door was opened again and Adam and the officer, both looking quite red, stood there.
"Let's go. You'll have to give a statement tomorrow. I told them that no one is talking to you today."
"What about Smith?" Stephen asked. He had to be certain that the bastard hadn't sweet talked his way out.
"Locked up," the officer said. "The boy he had was seventeen years old. He's going to trial."
"I'll press charges this time," Stephen said. "I'll testify for Mark at Smith's trial. Anything you need."
"Otis," the officer said. "His name is Otis. Not Mark."
"Oh." Stephen stared over at Adam, trying to convey what he was feeling. Smith had taken Otis's name away, and he would have taken Otis's mind and his life, just like he took Stephen's.
Adam reached out and touched his wrist. "Come on. Let's go home. You can call your parents on the way and tell them you're all right."
Stephen nodded and reached out for Adam's hand. "O.K." He turned as Adam led him past the officer. "Thank you. For getting me out."
The officer nodded. "Thank your friend for his crazy idea."
Adam just shrugged. "If it's good enough for Andrew Lloyd Webber, it's good enough for me." Then he tugged on Stephen's hand and didn't let him go until they were in the car.
Keep reading.
Author: amproof
Pairing: Adam/Stephen, Adam/Kris, OMC/Stephen
Rating: NC-17 overall
Word count: 11,507
Warnings: High possibility of triggering content. Non-AU sexual slavery (Kris) and requisite abuse: physical, mental, sexual, mainly in flashbacks. PTSD, brainwashing. This chapter: Pretty much all listed warnings, plus under-age (17).
Genres: angst, hurt/comfort, healing/recovery, amnesia, mystery
Betas: brimtoast has sole rein on this one. Thank you so much for helping me with this. If it hasn't improved, it's only my fault.
Notes: This is revised from my story on aianonlovefest, which was inspired by a prompt on ai_kinkmeme for rescued sex slave Kris.
Summary: Kris has been missing for three years. When Adam finds him, he's not the person he used to be. In fact, he doesn't know who he used to be.
Previously: Part I
Chapters 1-5, 6-8, 9-10
Part II
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5
Poster by katekat1010
When Master pulled his cock out of Stephen's mouth and came on Stephen's face, Stephen shuddered in pleasure. He knew that with Master there would be no question about what it meant, and that only Master could be the one to wipe his mark away. Master looked down at him, and Stephen floated in the welcome familiarity of the warm expression in Master's eyes. Master never made him feel confused because he knew what Master wanted from him. Master told him, and he didn't hide his pleasure from Stephen. The time he’d spent away from Master had just been one confusing thing after another, but now he wouldn't have to worry about that anymore. He only had one person to please now, and he already knew that Master loved him. That made him feel safe. He hadn't felt safe like this in so long. He smiled up, wanting to tell Master all of this, but something stopped him from speaking. It would ruin the mood, perhaps, and he didn't want anything to break it.
Master curled his fingers behind Stephen's ear and gently cuffed him. "Come along, Stephen."
Stephen wriggled towards the touch as happiness swelled within him. Master couldn't know what it meant to hear his name again. And he didn't have to ask for it, didn't have to make any claims on it. "Y-yes, Master," he said, only just managing to get the reply out over the force of his gratitude, which made speaking feel like choking.
Master turned and started walking deeper into the house. Stephen crawled behind him, never once considering getting to his feet and following. It wasn't just that crawling was a rule, it was that it pleased Master, and when Master looked down at him and smiled, Stephen decided that he never wanted to stand up again. He had tried so hard to get his family and friends to reward him with the same proud and loving expression Master was turning towards him now, but he had only succeeded in winning pity from them. When he had done something right, every reaction had been tinged with the memory of the person he no longer was. He didn't want to be looked at with sad smiles. He wanted to make people happy, but he couldn't do that if the one thing they wanted, he couldn't give. With Master, he only had to be himself. He hadn't imagined that the relief would be this great, but he took it in and embraced it.
He wondered if Master still had the little bed where Stephen used to sleep. It was tucked inside a closet-sized room just off of Master's bedroom. Stephen had thought of it as his room, and he had liked it because he could hear Master sleeping while he was inside it. He liked it even better than his room in New York, although it was smaller, because of that.
Master walked into the living room and sat down on his chair, a stiff backed green leather one with an ornately carved wooden framework. Stephen knelt beside him. He mewled a little when Master took him by the chin and tilted his face up, and Master bent down to give his cock an affectionate pat. Stephen couldn't stop his hips from snapping forward. He pulled back immediately and prepared to kiss Master's fingers in apology, but Master smiled at him fondly.
"Now, Stephen. You mustn't be pushy. I decide when your pretty cock gets used. You know that."
"Yes, Master." Stephen dropped his head further as his cheeks grew warm with shame. He'd ruined it. He hadn't been good and now Master would send him away. What was he going to do now? He forced the thought away. It wasn't his business to worry about things like that anymore. If Master wanted to punish him, he would. If he wanted to send Stephen away, he would, even though Stephen knew it would cause Master pain...had caused Master pain. He whimpered as he remembered his last moments with Master before Brad took him away. He squeezed his eyes closed so he wouldn't cry, but then remembered that he was not allowed to hide his emotions, so he turned his wet eyes upon Master.
Master stroked his thumbs over Stephen's eyelids, wiping the moisture away. "But you're such a good boy to come home where you belong. And you probably haven't been treated like you need to be. Tell me, Stephen, did those people make you feel like I did?"
Stephen shook his head. He wanted to cling to Master's leg until his misery faded away, wanted some signal that this would be accepted. Master scritched his fingers through Stephen's hair. Stephen flattened his hands on his knees and let it be enough, even though internally he was shaking with the need to wrap himself around Master and not let go. Master had never been a cuddler, though, so Stephen forced himself to be satisfied with what Master did give to him, which was so much. It was love, unquestioning and dedicated.
"That's why you came home, isn't it?"
"Yes, Master."
"It's been a long time. You've probably forgotten a lot of our rules, but you learned them well the first time, and you'll learn them well again. Won't you?"
"Yes, Master." He was glad that Master had such faith in him.
"Your cock is hard, Stephen."
Stephen looked down.
"Did your new master use you like you're meant to be used? Were you a pretty hole for him?"
He knew that he should look Master in the eye when he answered, but embarrassment forced him to lower his gaze to the floor. "He didn't...um...he didn't want me. I tried to be good for him, I really did, but he..." Adam had given him choices, and Stephen hadn't known what to do. And yet, Master had told him to be good when he gave him away. Stephen had failed and let Master down. Even if the circumstances turned out to be different than he ever could have imagined, that was still no excuse for letting Master down. "It was different," he said. "My new master, he knew me from before, and he wanted me to be like that, and, and I couldn't. I tried, but..."
"Shh. It's O.K. I know what happened. I saw you on the news with your family. I saw how lost you looked. My darling, you can't know how much I wanted to reach out to you."
Stephen nodded against Master's hand as the words calmed and soothed him.
Master's hand moved to his back and stroked down it until he relaxed enough to let go and sit up again. "That's my good boy. I have something for you." There was a small sidetable beside the chair, and he reached over to pull open its drawer. Stephen sat up a little straighter so he could see. His heart leapt when Master pulled out a collar. It was a deep green, leather, and about one inch wide. He shuffled forward to press himself even closer to Master's knees. Master scratched beneath Stephen's ear. "Because you came back." He held out the collar. Stephen stretched his neck forward, and Master buckled it around him. He pulled Stephen into a kiss then, and Stephen couldn't help humping the air as the pleasure, relief and happiness melded within him into a sharp desperation to be touched.
"Welcome home," Master said.
"Thank you, Master." Stephen smiled up at him. He felt hazy, but pleasantly so. The burden of thought had been lifted completely. Master would take care of him now, and then he would start to take care of Master, just as he had done before.
"Now, it's a horrible shame that no one has taken care of you, sweetheart." He petted Stephen's cock again. "Don't worry, I'll make sure you get what you need. But first I have a surprise for you." He stood up and headed for the back of the house. Stephen crawled behind happily, his stomach already fluttering with nervous excitement over what would await him in the playroom. Perhaps Master would strap him to the bench and tease his hole for hours or play with his nipples or even both. Master hadn't ever done something like that before, at least, not for so long and not without fucking him after. But maybe, since Stephen had come back to him, Master would want to use him like this. Stephen would happily give his body over for whatever Master wanted. He was already imagining how he would writhe under Master's ministrations, and how they would go on and on until he was mindless with pleasure.
He was so preoccupied with imagining this that he bumped into the back of Master's legs. He scooted backwards immediately and sat down on his heels, waiting for the command to mount the bench. The rules within the playroom were slightly different than the rest of the house. Speaking was not allowed without direct permission. He was only allowed to utter sounds that came from pleasure and need as Master touched and used him. In the playroom, Stephen's attention had to be on Master at all times, even when he was tied down. In the rest of the house, he could speak if he wanted unless Master said not to, and he could take initiative to serve Master's pleasure, but in this room, Master's pleasure was that Stephen remain quiet and do what he was told and nothing else.
Master said, "Stephen, say hello to Mark." Stephen looked up, confused. Master stepped out of the way so Stephen could see that they were not alone in the room.
Stephen froze. He couldn't help a small, jealous sound escaping as he looked at the man who was already on the bench. So many times Stephen had laid on it, happily strapped down for his master to use him, so who the fuck was this?? Master scratched the top of Stephen's head, and Stephen leaned into the touch, his glare never wavering from the back of the man's head. Stephen felt a little sick, too, that Master had replaced him. He shouldn't blame Master for that, though. He couldn't have known that Stephen would come back to him. He had probably waited as long as he could, but Stephen knew that Master needed someone to care for him, someone to keep his affairs in order from the finances to the food. So Master had found someone. The guy probably thought he was so hot, taking Stephen's place. Well, Stephen would just bet that this asshole didn't know what Master really liked. He was probably a shitty substitute and it was a good thing Stephen had come back to care for Master properly.
"Stephen," Master said sternly. He gave Stephen's collar a sharp tug.
"Hello," Stephen mumbled.
"Now, don't be jealous," Master said. The guy turned his head so Stephen could glare to his face.
Except...except the blue eyes that locked on his weren't smug at all. They were furious and, maybe, a little bit terrified above the wide O of his mouth made by the ring gag. Stephen swallowed. He wanted to reel backwards, away from the gaze that was now turned on him, but Master still had him firmly by the collar and was pulling him forward.
He put his hand on Mark's head, and Mark jerked backwards, looking as if he would bite Master's hand if not for the gag. Stephen winced in sympathy. He never liked it when Master made him wear one, since it stretched his jaw out past the point of comfort, even though he could see the necessity of it when he was expected to service many cocks one after another. But now there was only Master's cock to be served, so it seemed like overkill. Perhaps guessing what Stephen was thinking, Master traced a finger around the inside of the gag and then slapped Mark on the cheek, just hard enough to get his attention. "He's not a good boy like you. He bites."
It looked as if Mark would do more than bite if he were released. Master had moved down to Mark's ass, though, and began fucking him with the buttplug that was already inside him as Mark thrashed within his confines. "But he'll soon learn that we do not tolerate biting here." He paused. "Unless it is requested, of course." He gave a gentle smile before he continued talking. "I won't blame you for being upset with me, Stephen. It must be quite a shock to come back and find someone else here. But he isn't replacing you, darling. No one ever could. I want the both of you, you see. Mark has a beautiful cock, and when he is trained like you, he's going to fuck you with it. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Being tied on your back so Mark can fuck you with his big cock? I might even strap him at the same time."
Stephen looked down uncertainly. He didn't really want Mark to fuck him, but if Master wanted it...
"Now, darling, do you remember how when I first asked you to serve the men who had pleased me? Remember how you were nervous, but I stayed with you and reminded you how special you are? How you are a lovely prize?"
Stephen nodded. He had certainly not forgotten how Master had stayed beside him the first few times to calm him, and how he had felt after the men were gone and Master's praise only increased tenfold. Master had supervised every session after that, but those first ones had mattered the most.
"I will stay with you when Mark fucks you," Master said. "It will be the same. But this time you will not be the prize. You will be getting the reward. Because your pretty little hole deserves a cock like Mark's." He reached out and tugged on Mark's hair, tilting the stretched face upwards. "But Mark is a long way off from deserving you. A very long way." He dropped Mark's head abruptly, and the terrified eyes were once again turned towards Stephen.
Even though Stephen had begun to blush when Master talked about why he wanted Mark to fuck him, and maybe even feel a certain itch for it--not quite desire, but closer to curiosity--that made him shift on his heels, seeing Mark's face set alarms off in his head. It didn't seem right. There had to be a difference between someone who was an untrained submissive and someone who wasn't submissive at all. Stephen wondered if he was looking at the difference.
He swallowed and pushed his courage up. "Master? May I ask a question?" He prayed that Master would allow it and not simply punish him for speaking.
"Yes, darling. But you know that you are not allowed to speak in here unless I tell you to first. I'll make an exception for you now. I understand these must be very confusing circumstances."
Stephen breathed out a sigh of relief. He paused, and tried to fix the right words to what he wanted to say so that he could get his worries across. "Why is he here? It doesn't seem like he wants to be." He edged closer to Mark's head. Now that Master had moved out of Mark's eyeline, there was not so much rage in Mark's expression. Instead, he stared dully at Stephen.
"He is here because I wanted him to be," Master said. "Just as you were here because I wanted you to be. From the moment I saw each of you, I knew I had to have you. If only he was as much of a pleasure to train as you were..." He smiled fondly at Stephen. "Such a good boy, Stephen. Always my favorite."
Stephen smiled back and crawled over to him. It was a good answer. It was the one he needed, and it made sense. He had been so proud when Master had chosen him. He had been lost and alone, but Master had been there for him, and it was still his most wonderful memory when Master had asked him to come home with him. "You knew that I would be yours when you were caring for me in the hospital, right, Master?"
"Oh, no, sweetheart. Long before that." He didn't continue, just smiled and pushed his fingers into Stephen's mouth for him to suck. They were cool and tasted a little musky, probably from playing with Mark's plug. Stephen closed his eyes and sucked obediently. There was something in Master's wording that niggled at the back of Stephen's mind, but he couldn't quite grasp hold of it. He concentrated instead on Master's fingers. He was happy to suck for as long as Master would allow it. He pulled them into his mouth and swept his tongue around and between them. Still, the thought...something...what was it? Something definitely not right. Master had said...what? He'd said, 'long before that.' Yes. That was. That was wrong. Master couldn't have meant before the hospital.
There was only one way Master could have known him before... The thought registered so abruptly that it was almost painful in its clarity. There was only one way that Master could have known about Stephen before the accident, and that was if he knew about Kris. If he had watched Idol. And then followed him. Waited for him, maybe, and...
Stephen pulled away from the fingers. Suddenly they were too big, too dangerous to have in his mouth where Master could twist them or press down on his tongue or shove them in deep.
"What did you...what did you mean, 'long before that?"
"Stephen," Master said. "Your permission to speak is limited." This time the warning in his voice was clear, but Stephen shook his head and drew back a little more.
"You knew who I was. You knew me."
"Stephen?" Master asked. It wasn't a denial. His fingers hovered in front of Stephen's mouth, as if waiting re-admittance. It was almost as if he was surprised that Stephen hadn't already realized that everything had started long before the hospital. What if he'd seen him on Idol and decided then to find him? What if he'd been following him? Or had hired someone else to follow him? The car accident would have been the perfect stroke of luck to grab him... Stephen's head jerked up and he inhaled sharply. Suddenly, he could see it clearly--headlights behind him. Another car coming on fast and he had swerved to avoid it and...gone off the road. Oh God. The accident was on purpose.
Stephen stared up at Master, no...at Smith. Stephen thought the name with all the bile he could muster. This man didn't deserve to be called Master. He tried to form words out of speechlessness. "I had a family. Friends. A life. You took me away from them. You took my life away. You erased me."
He surged to his feet, incandescent with rage and swaying to stay upright after kneeling for so long. "I thought...I thought you loved me. I thought you were the only person I had in this world and...and you..." He collapsed forward, stomach clenching with dry heaves since he hadn't eaten since the plane and had nothing in him to vomit up. Too weak to struggle, he soon found himself cradled in Smith's arms. He turned and began to weep into Smith's chest and hated himself for it. "You don't know what it's been like this past month. You can't imagine..." After all he'd been through, now to discover that that they had been right about Smith all along. He felt like he was back at square one, only now he had nowhere to go.
"Hush." Smith held him and tried to soothe him, but each touch only made Stephen want to retch again. "You're right. I can't imagine what those people must have tried to tell you. But you should know this: I wanted you from the moment I saw you on the television. You were such a beautiful boy. I knew that you would be mine. And you've come back to me, which means that you know it, too."
Stephen twisted until he was on the floor. His stomach was in knots. He landed on his ass, and stared at Smith with his jaw agape. "I'm not staying. You don't honestly think I'm staying? You stole me." He forced himself to his feet and started tugging on Mark's bindings.
"Stephen, unless you want to get punished, I'd put my forehead on the floor right now."
"Did you steal him, too? I trusted you." He was spitting more than talking. Flecks of it landed on Mark's pale skin. "We're leaving. Mark and I, we're leaving right now."
"No, you aren't."
Stephen had never heard such a cold tone come from Smith. Rather than force him to his knees, it solidified in his brain that he had no idea who Smith was. He had been wrong. So very wrong. He tugged harder on the bindings, trying to find the trick to loosen them.
He didn't notice the black hood coming over his head until it was too late.
The moment he was captured in darkness, he was thrust forward and his hands were wrenched behind his back and cuffed. He bumped his head against Mark's hip and then against the bench as he was forced to his knees. Smith put one knee on Stephen's back and pulled his arms sharply upwards, rendering movement impossible. A moment later, shackles closed around his ankles and he was released. He tried to move, but a tight chain connecting the cuffs and shackles kept him into a forced kneeling position. Next, he felt a blunt finger at his asshole, poking in slick but not making any effort to stretch him. No. No. No. No. He knew what that had to mean. He had been very bad, so much worse than he had ever been before. He wanted to protest that he could be a good boy, but Smith never paid attention to protestations when punishments were being doled out. And Stephen wasn't going to be good, not now. He was going to get out.
He screamed as Smith pushed the hard silicon plug inside him, easing off only to push harder when his asshole refused to cooperate. After a month without having anything in his ass, the dry buttplug felt like it would split him open. He shivered in relief when it was finally inside and his hole was allowed to close around the wide base, but then Smith tilted him up so he was sitting on his heels, which only pushed the plug deeper inside. Then, he was picked up, flung over Smith's shoulder, and carried out of the room. His knees recognized the linoleum of the kitchen floor as Smith ripped the hood off him. Stephen started to yell, just to make noise even though he knew no one could hear, but Smith grabbed his face and pushed his fingers into Stephen's jaw, forcing it open while making speech impossible. He shoved a ball gag in, so huge it made Stephen's eyes water as Smith fastened it around the back of his head. Next he pulled a leash from his pocket and clipped one end to Stephen's collar and the other to a hook beneath the counter top that was invisible unless you knew where to look. With each addition, Stephen's panic increased. He had never been so thoroughly bound for a punishment. Before, Smith had always ordered him to stay still, and he had. He had loved Smith enough to do that. Now Smith had to know that the love was gone. He wasn't taking any chances. Stephen held himself very still and tried not to give away that he was terrified, even though it was probably painted across his face.
When he finished, Smith sat back and looked at Stephen sadly, as if he really had expected better from him. "You were my good boy, Stephen. But I don't want you to worry. I'll train you to be good again." He traced a thumb behind Stephen's ear. Stephen flinched away, which earned him the slow, disappointed smile again. "Only, I think this time when I'm finished, you'll know better than to question me or to even think about it." He patted Stephen's cheek. Each word was a new nightmare. He couldn't live like this. To sit around and wait to be broken? Stephen lunged forward and nearly choked himself. He fell backwards, gasping around the ball in his mouth. "I am truly sorry about this," Smith said. "I had hoped we could go back to normal. But I want you to always remember this: no one will ever love you like I do."
Stephen shook his head. Smith was a liar. He wasn't unloved. He had a family. Friends. He had those two days with Adam. And he had the song. He could keep it in his mind and let it guide his focus away from whatever was happening to him.
He tried not to let himself panic. He had to keep his mind clear so he could be aware of opportunities for escape. His mind wasn't listening to him, though. It was filling up with horrible visions of being tied and used, not just on special occasions, but all the time. His groin tightened, and he noticed that he was heavy with the need to urinate. He hadn't relieved himself since the airport, which had been hours earlier. Behind the gag, he couldn't tell Smith that he needed to go. He doubted that Smith would allow him to do it anyway. He would probably have to earn it. Smith had taken control of his whole body now, his every function. Stephen was going to live and die at Smith's whim. How could he not panic, knowing that? He had never been so terrified in his life.
Smith stroked over Stephen's hair again. "No one," he repeated. "I am all you have now."
Stephen stared at him. He tried to fight the hood coming down again, but he couldn't, and he was in darkness once more, this time with another collar on over top of it, a weighted one, which held it down and kept all the light out.
"Now you'll have to excuse me, darling. I must tend to Mark and explain the new situation to him. I didn't want him to see you misbehaving like this. I've been telling him what a good example you are, and then you go and... Well. I thought it inappropriate for him to see you being so difficult. Now, I want you to sit there with the plug in your bottom and think about what you've done. If you're a good boy, I may fuck you later. If not, I'm sure there are several other things we could do."
Stephen's tongue pressed against the ball in his mouth. He was glad that the hood was on so Smith couldn't see him cry. He forced his breathing to be even so he wouldn't choke. He'd really fucked up. Everyone had said that Smith had done terrible things to him, but he hadn't seen. Smith had been his hero and now... The man had known who he was. He forced himself to swallow. If he vomited now, he'd die. There couldn't be any...he was doomed. He'd cut everyone else out of his life. He'd willfully gone back to Smith. No one would try to find him now. He was alone. He tried to slump forward, but the chain at his neck kept him in miserable place. The first notes of Adam's song came into the back of his mind. He let himself drift towards them, away from the darkness. His legs went numb and his ass stubbornly refused to adjust to the monster inside it.
He didn't move when he heard footsteps returning. He wasn't sure how much time had passed. Smith had probably finished with Mark and was coming to punish him. Maybe if he played possum, he could convince Smith that he was safe and then, when Smith had let his guard down, he'd take Mark and run.
But Smith had destroyed him last time. Did he have a chance against him? Or was Smith going to break him completely and then kill him once he was all used up? If Smith was going to turn him into the mindless slut he seemed to imply, then maybe Stephen would prefer that...
He reared back from the light as the hood was ripped from beneath the weighted collar. "Kristopher Allen?"
Stephen squinted to orient his vision to the body attached to the voice. A police officer stood slightly to the front of him. "Are you Kristopher Allen?"
Stephen nodded. Thank God. Thank God. There were two other policemen there, too. That would be enough to stop Smith so he could get away. He shuffled forward, as much as the chains would allow and tried to indicate with his eyes that he was ready to go.
But then Smith butted in. "He's a grown man here of his own accord. You have no right to--"
Oh God. This couldn't be happening. Stephen tried shaking his head. The officer wasn't looking at him, though. He was looking at Smith. Stephen struggled to make noise around the gag.
"Mr. Smith, we have a warrant to search Mr. Allen's possessions." The officer pulled it out and handed it over to Smith, who read it and handed it back.
The officer waved it beneath Stephen's nose. "Would you mind removing the gag? I need him to acknowledge that he understands."
"Mr. Allen is in deep bondage right now," Smith said with a certain condescension, as if he were talking to a child who had stumbled into the adults' dinner party. "It takes a very long time to get him into it, and I don't want to undo it all just to redo it after you've gone. Perhaps a nod would do?"
The officer shrugged and turned to Stephen. "Nod if you understand that we have a warrant to search your possessions." Stephen nodded, even though he didn't understand. Policemen were supposed to help, weren't they? But these didn't seem like they cared that he was terrified and in trouble. He tried to convey, "save me" with his eyes, but Smith was giving him a look that said that the longer the policemen stayed, the worse it would be for him.
"Is this your suitcase?" another officer asked. Stephen was surprised to see it there, since he had left in the foyer when he'd first arrived, but he nodded again. The officer lifted it onto the kitchen table and opened it. He removed the clothing in one go and spread it out across the table. After a quick glance that seemed to take in every detail, he emptied out Stephen's toiletries and the few books he'd brought, including one that he'd intended to give to Smith. Stephen winced with self-hatred when he saw it.
"Well, if that's all," Smith said, but the officer ignored him. He dug his fingers into the bottom of the suitcase, and then pulled it up. For a second, only a second, it looked like the man allowed a smug smile onto his face. Then it was gone and the officer looked at Stephen grimly.
"Dr. Smith, we're going to ask you to remove his handcuffs now. We prefer to use ours."
"May I ask why?"
The officer lifted the item out of the bottom of the suitcase. It was a rectangular piece of polished wood. Stephen stared at it. It looked like the back of a plaque. It was sturdier than a frame. With the suitcase being hard plastic, he never would have noticed it. Maybe whoever had used the suitcase last had forgotten to unpack it and now Stephen was being accused to stealing it. Then the officer turned it around so he could see the front. His breath hitched as he recognized Adam's gold record. It was the one he had pointed to and called his favorite.
Here was proof that Adam had never abandoned him. That Adam loved him and had found a way to protect him even when he wasn't there. It was too much, too overwhelming. All the emotions fell on him at once: grief, disbelief, joy and relief, and then he didn't feel anything.
When Stephen opened his eyes, the officer was touching his shoulder, looking concerned. Stephen blinked at him. It seemed like there was a clouded screen between him and the officer. He tried to reach out, and was surprised when he actually could. He was still on the floor, but the gag, collar, cuffs and shackles were off. There was the pungent scent of urine, too, and he looked down and saw that he had wet himself. He poked himself in the stomach, trying to figure out how it had happened without his noticing--how any of it had happened. But it didn't matter because Adam had done this for him. Smith was wrong. Adam did love him. He'd planted the record in Stephen's suitcase, just like Joseph had buried his cup in Benjamin's sack, and he'd made sure that no matter what happened, he would still be able to get Stephen back. Stephen grinned stupidly at the officer, who was waving a hand in front of him.
"You fainted for a minute. Are you all right?" the officer asked. He reached out, as if he would touch Stephen's shoulder, but Stephen shrank away from him. Smith was standing near the other officer, staring at Stephen with a hateful and betrayed expression. Stephen ducked his head so he wouldn't have to look at him.
"He has a man tied up in the backroom," Stephen blurted. He had to get the words out quickly, in case he was going to be gagged again. He shrank back into the cabinets, bracing himself for the kicking that was sure to come. There was a flurry of noise, but no one touched him. He looked up to see two guns leveled at Smith. One officer nodded at the other, and the latter ran through the house. "Got him!" he yelled back a moment later.
"Mr. Smith. On your knees, hands behind your head. Now." The officer snapped the command, but Smith was still slow to move. He got down as if it were his idea.
Once Smith was cuffed, the one that Stephen had started to think of as 'his' officer, helped him to his feet. He handed Stephen a pair of jeans and a shirt from the suitcase. Stephen wobbled into the clothes, careful of the plug that was still snug in his bottom. He wished that he could be allowed to wash the dried urine off his chest, but the officer seemed like he didn't want to wait, so Stephen dressed as quickly as he could with his fingers shaking and his legs unsteady. Once he was finished, the officer said, "Let's try this again. Kristopher Allen, you are under arrest for theft. You have the right to remain silent..."
Stephen stared at the officer's mouth and held his hands out obediently when the officer asked for them. He even stared straight ahead when the other officer guided Smith out of the room. He was terrified that if he moved even a fraction of an inch, if he made the air change just that much, then all of this would disappear and he would still be on his knees, chained to the cabinet and waiting for his mind to be destroyed.
Stephen was put into a patrol car with one officer, while Smith was put into the back of another. He looked out the window at Stephen, and Stephen stared back at him. He couldn't keep it up, though, because the plug inside him made him wince, so he had to look away when Smith smirked at him. He knew that Smith knew exactly why he was wincing. Stephen's face grew hot. He folded himself over his knees, but this only put more pressure on the plug, so it was a constant, throbbing dull pain reminding him of what he had done, of the decision he had made in returning to Smith. The car with Stephen in it drove away, while Smith's car stayed there. The third officer, the one who had gone to find Mark, had not emerged from the house.
The officer didn't talk to him at all on the drive back to the station, and Stephen didn't say anything, either. Adam loved him. Adam had always loved him. He'd thought that Adam had given up on him, had cut him out, but all along Adam had been with him. Adam had saved him. Nothing would take that knowledge away from him. Not the plug in his ass, not the semen that was still on his face, not the urine that was sticking to his chest and stinking through his shirt, and not any person, either.
Nothing.
#
Stephen was put into the same interview room that Adam had been in the last time he had been in the police station. The officer took his handcuffs off and gave him a plastic cup of water. "Wait here," he said. "Someone wants to talk to you before we proceed with booking."
Stephen nodded. It had to be Adam. He wasn't worried at all about being arrested. It was all part of Adam's plan to get him away from Smith, so Stephen sipped his water and waited.
It wasn't long before the door burst open, and there was Adam, looking frantic and terrible, paler than Stephen had ever seen him, as if the past month had shaved another few years off his life in addition to the ones that losing Kris in the first place had probably lost him. Stephen stumbled to his feet, wanting to say that he would give those years back if he could, just as Adam grabbed him by the front of the shirt. He pulled Stephen close. Stephen's arms automatically went around Adam's back, but Adam's eyes were darting back and forth over him. Every muscle in Adam's face was moving; it was as if Stephen could see all five senses going at once. On the rare occasion that Adam's eyes settled on his, Stephen had to look away because they were furious. Stephen began to shake. Adam's grip hadn't loosened on his shirt.
"I'm sorry," he said, "I'm really..."
But then Adam cut him off, not with words, but by shoving him against the table so he would have been sitting on it if Adam wasn't still holding him up. He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and plunged it into the cup of water. Stephen closed his eyes as Adam scrubbed his forehead and cheeks with no evident regard for whether or not he wanted Stephen to have any skin left once he was finished.
"Want him off you, that bastard. That God damned bastard," Adam said, and Stephen wasn't even sure if Adam knew that he was speaking. Stephen put his hands on Adam's waist and held on. Finally, Adam must have decided he was clean, or that he was as clean as he could be without a sandblaster and a boiling hot shower, because he let him go. Stephen slumped onto the table in the puddle made by his water toppling over. Adam tossed the handkerchief on top of it. "Did he fuck you?"
Stephen shook his head quickly. Adam's nostrils flared, but he nodded and seemed to ease off a bit.
"Thank you," Stephen said. "For...what you did."
Adam grabbed him again. This time his nose was twitching. "Why do you smell like piss?"
"I wet myself. When I saw the...when I knew you had..." He tried to wrench himself away, because it was embarrassing and he didn't want to talk about it, but Adam had him good. A sharp shake, and he looked at Adam, who still wore the expression of a man on a mission.
"Do you understand why the record was in your suitcase?"
"Joseph," Stephen said.
"Yeah. Joseph had the power to keep Benjamin with him, and he had the power to put Benjamin into prison. Well, guess what? So do I."
Stephen forced himself to meet Adam's eyes.
"Now listen to me. If you come home with me now, that's it. I don't press charges. But if you're going to go back to him right now, I will press charges. I will make sure you go to jail. I will do that to you rather than send you back to him. Do you understand? Do you understand that I can do that?"
"Yes." Stephen's answer came out on staggered breath, caused by a reaction to Adam's display of alpha-level ownership. Adam realized, perhaps, because he eased off a bit.
"You don't have to decide this second. But probably within five minutes, you need to decide. You don't have to stay with me. You can go with your family, or Daniel, or... Whatever you want. Just not him." Adam let him go, this time back into the chair that had miraculously not been overturned amidst all the scrambling around.
He leaned against the wall and squeezed the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry, too, for what it's worth. I thought it was better for you to go with your family. It seemed like... I know I fucked up, sleeping with you, and you felt like you had to be someone you're not. It was stupid of me."
Now that the harshness was out of the way, Adam seemed at a loss for what to do. He just stayed against the wall and stared at the air.
"It's not your fault. I should have believed you, all of you, when you told me what kind of person Smith was. I ignored you, though, and I went back to him. No one made me do it. Maybe I deserved what Smith was going to do to me."
"Don't say that," Adam said.
"No. It's true. I deserved everything." Cale. God. What Cale had said to him, and then he'd left the next day? Fuck. He had always thought of Kris as the jerk, but he was a jerk, too. He had done the same thing that Kris had done. Kris had left Adam, but Stephen had left everyone. "I thought Smith was better than all of you. I'm sorry I was so stupid."
Adam grabbed him again. Stephen tried to twist away. The shame was too much; he didn't deserve Adam's comfort, but Adam held tight. "Don't you fucking say that. None of this is your fault. It's his. The dickwad who brainwashed you. You know that now. It's going to be all right now, so quit feeling stupid or whatever, O.K.? You're not stupid."
Stephen let himself get tugged forward. "Yeah," he said, and tried to mean it.
"I want to come home with you," Stephen said into Adam’s shoulder. "I don't need five minutes or five seconds. I belong with you."
Adam sighed. "Stephen. You shouldn't say things like 'belong with'. You can't know that."
Stephen pulled back. "You are full of shit, you know that? You love me, but you won't admit it because you think you love who I used to be and not who I am now. Let me tell you something--you need to get your head out of your ass."
"My head isn't in my ass." Adam said, but he didn't flinch or try to dodge when Stephen poked him, hard, in the chest.
"I'm not Kris anymore."
"I know." Adam said in a pissy tone, as if he'd just been reminded that two and two were four.
"I'm not the Stephen you met a month ago, either."
"No?" This got a little more interest.
"Or even the one you walked out on."
Interest and a flash of hurt with that one. "It was for the best. Everyone said." He glanced at Stephen quickly and then looked away, but it was still enough for Stephen to see the pain in his expression.
He moved a little closer. Adam didn't move, but he kept his head turned away. Stephen put his hands on Adam's chest. "I taught myself to play the viola. I kind of suck, but I wrote a song."
"Yeah?" Somehow Adam got the word out around a swallow.
"I played it for my family. I was really proud of it, and do you know what they told me?"
Adam shook his head. He still seemed intent on looking anywhere but down where Stephen was.
"They said they liked it even better than when they'd heard it the first time. Back when I wrote it during the Idol tour."
Finally, Adam looked at him, and Stephen moved one hand up to Adam's neck. Adam was as still as stone.
"I don't remember writing it," Stephen said, "but I remember who I wanted to hear it for the first time. You. I remember listening to it with you." He rubbed Adam's neck. "There was something you said, though. I can almost picture you saying it, but I can't hear you." He squinted a little, as if this would bring the memory back.
"Writing a song is like finding a friend that you already met," Adam said quietly. He seemed to be shaking, despite how still he was holding himself.
"Yeah," Stephen said. "That was it."
"It was your, um, you were talking about how writing made you feel, but you weren't very good with words, so I summed it up for you. You said it was, that it was pretty good." He sounded uncertain, as if he wasn't sure what to do now that Stephen had laid this memory out before him, which could prove that he was still Kris and that he was still Stephen.
Stephen put just a tiny amount of pressure on Adam's neck, curling his fingers around the back. "I'm going to kiss you now." He didn't mean for it to come out like a question, but Adam nodded anyway, and leaned down, mouth parted. It felt strange to be the one initiating a kiss. He was certain he had never done it with Smith, and he felt awkward doing it now. But at the same time, he wanted to do it.
Their lips touched hesitantly at first, as if they were both seeking permission, not at all the passionate, possessive kiss that Stephen had envisioned himself giving. It was tinged mainly in disbelief and caution and didn't last more than a few seconds. Adam's hands stayed flat against the wall, and Stephen's stayed exactly where they were, too, on Adam's neck and on Adam's chest. Adam licked his lips when it was over, while Stephen let Adam's saliva dry on his, happy to have this to cover the memory of Smith.
"Can we go home now?" Stephen said.
"Yeah. Just stay here a minute, O.K.? I have to finish up some paperwork."
"O.K." Stephen sat back down. Adam stepped out of the room. A moment later, the shouting began. Stephen played with his empty cup and grinned as Adam tore into someone for not cleaning Stephen up, and the officer railed right back at Adam, saying that the priority was to remove him from the scene and that a bath would have slowed that down. The yelling went back and forth until finally the door was opened again and Adam and the officer, both looking quite red, stood there.
"Let's go. You'll have to give a statement tomorrow. I told them that no one is talking to you today."
"What about Smith?" Stephen asked. He had to be certain that the bastard hadn't sweet talked his way out.
"Locked up," the officer said. "The boy he had was seventeen years old. He's going to trial."
"I'll press charges this time," Stephen said. "I'll testify for Mark at Smith's trial. Anything you need."
"Otis," the officer said. "His name is Otis. Not Mark."
"Oh." Stephen stared over at Adam, trying to convey what he was feeling. Smith had taken Otis's name away, and he would have taken Otis's mind and his life, just like he took Stephen's.
Adam reached out and touched his wrist. "Come on. Let's go home. You can call your parents on the way and tell them you're all right."
Stephen nodded and reached out for Adam's hand. "O.K." He turned as Adam led him past the officer. "Thank you. For getting me out."
The officer nodded. "Thank your friend for his crazy idea."
Adam just shrugged. "If it's good enough for Andrew Lloyd Webber, it's good enough for me." Then he tugged on Stephen's hand and didn't let him go until they were in the car.
Keep reading.