Fic: The Devil You Know (16/25)
Title: The Devil You Know
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/Pairing: Neal/Peter, Peter/Elizabeth/Neal, Neal/Elizabeth, Peter/Elizabeth, references to Neal/Kate
Rating: Explicit
Contains: Non-con, dub-con, institutionalized slavery, spanking, humiliation, dark!Peter, dark!Elizabeth, sex, rimming
Word count: 6600 this part. About 122k total.
Summary: After being convicted of bond forgery, Neal is sentenced to four years of slavery. But he isn't prepared to be purchased by Peter Burke. Or for what Peter has in store for him.
Notes: See Chapter 1 for details.
On Wednesday, Peter insisted on using the leash again. He led Neal inside the federal building, but instead of taking him to the elevator, they stopped at the front security desk.
"Agent Burke," he said. "I ordered a tag for him." He jerked his thumb back, indicating Neal.
"Wait," Neal said, "what's a tag?"
Peter ignored him. The security guard rifled through a drawer and pulled out something looked a bit like a luggage tag. He double-checked the information printed on it and handed it to Peter.
"There you go."
Peter grabbed Neal's collar and looped the tag around it. It was made of thin white plastic, but it fastened securely, like a hospital bracelet. It would need to be cut off.
"What is this thing?" Neal asked.
Peter unclipped the leash. While he put it in his briefcase, Neal lifted up the tag and strained his eyes downward in an attempt to read the tag. All he could make out was Peter's name and his own slave ID number.
"That's a slave tag," Peter said. "We put them on slaves who come in here, so they can be identified quickly."
"Seriously? This thing tickles."
"It's either that, or I can chain you to my desk. Or, I can let you move freely around the building, at your own risk."
"Yeah, you could," Neal said, waiting for the catch.
"And then, when someone notices an unidentified slave wandering around, they'll stick you in a cage until they locate me."
"I guess I'll take the tag."
Peter slapped him on the back. "Thought so. But hey, maybe we can go without it after everyone gets to know you more. For now, let's just play things by the book."
The implication that Peter was just trying to keep the higher-ups happy eased Neal's annoyance. If Peter was supposed to tag him, Neal could play along.
As they rode up in the elevator, Neal tried again to read the tag.
"What does this thing say, anyway?" he asked.
"It gives your name and ID number, and the name of the agent who brought you in. That would be me."
"Why do you need tag slaves? How many slaves do you guys deal with?"
"Occasionally, we have to bring a slave in as part of an investigation."
Suddenly, Neal realized what the tag reminded him of. It was an evidence tag.
Before he could remark on that, they reached their floor. Neal followed Peter into the white collar division offices. Several of the agents paused to look at Neal as he walked past. Obviously, seeing a slave around the office was still a novel experience. Despite the precaution of the tag, Neal suspected everyone already knew that he was Peter's. Enough of them had seen him when he was there the last time, and gossip always traveled fast in an office.
Neal followed Peter to his office and plopped down in one of the chairs in front of the desk.
"So," he asked. "What do I do now?"
"I'm going to have you look over some old case files, see if you can find anything we missed. Diana will get some for you."
"Diana. She's your probie, right?"
"That's right. And when I'm not around, you'll listen to her. Is that clear?"
"Crystal."
But at the moment, there wasn't anything to do. He picked up a rubber band ball off Peter's desk and slumped back in his chair. He played with that while Peter typed away on the computer.
After what felt like an eternity, Diana stuck her head in the door. Neal recognized her from the last time he came to the office.
"I've got those files for Caffrey, Boss," she said. "They're in the boardroom."
"Great," Peter said. "Thanks." Looking at Neal, he said, "You can go in the boardroom to look the files over."
"What am I looking for, exactly?"
"Anything you think will help."
Neal stood up and tossed the rubber band ball back on the desk. He went next door to the boardroom, where he found a considerable pile of files sitting on the table.
This was going to take a while. He just hoped they were interesting cases.
He sat down facing the windows that looked out over the bullpen. From this perspective, he couldn't see much. But he could make out some heads looking in his direction.
As he delved into the files, he discovered that most of them were the opposite of interesting. He'd never realized how many mortgage fraud cases there were. No wonder Peter was so enamored with him-if these cases made up the bulk of Peter's caseload, the man must have been desperate for a good art theft or forgery.
He'd been at it for over an hour when his eyes started to glaze over. He was resting his chin on his hand when Peter came in.
"How's it going?"
Looking up, Neal said, "You know, when you said I'd be helping you solve cases, I expected something more exciting."
"Tough. Are you making any progress?"
"The pile is getting shorter." He fiddled with his collar and rubbed at the skin underneath.
"I know you don't like that tag," Peter said. "I'll ask Hughes if you might be able to go without it."
"Oh, it's not just that. I slept on my collar wrong last night. Now my neck is sore."
Peter clicked his tongue sympathetically. "Anyway, I wanted to tell you that a warrant I've been waiting on just came through, so I have to head out for a while. Diana's going to stay here-if you need anything, let her know."
"Wait, can I come with you? A warrant sounds exciting."
"No, we don't need you tagging along. You just keep doing your work. I can't wait to hear what you come up with."
As Peter left, Neal sat back in his chair with a frown. It figured he'd get left out the minute something interesting happened.
He waited a few minutes for Peter to leave, and then got up from the table and ventured out of the room.
Diana was at her desk. Neal breezed past her and walked over to the coffee machine. At home, coffee was usually a reward for doing his chores. But Peter hadn't said anything about at the office.
He poured himself a cup and stirred in some powdered creamer. As he stirred it with a plastic coffee stirrer, he wandered over to Diana's desk. He leaned on the empty desk in front of her.
"So," he said, "you're Peter's probie."
She looked up from the file she was studying. "That's right. I thought Peter gave you some work to do."
Neal held up his cup. "Coffee break. I'm entitled to stretch my legs, right?" He took a sip of the coffee and felt himself cringe involuntarily. "Is the coffee always this bad?"
Diana smirked. "It's an acquired taste."
"So, Peter said he got a warrant he was waiting for. Big case?"
"Some counterfeit gemstones popped up last week. We were able to trace them, and we finally got enough for a warrant."
"Sounds exciting. Bet you hate being stuck here."
"Oh, I see plenty of action."
Neal looked around. He didn't know any of the other agents. Jones had been there earlier, but he wasn't anymore. He must have gone with Peter.
"Hey," Neal said, "I don't suppose there's any way I could get a snack around here, is there?"
"Actually, Peter did leave me a few dollars in case you wanted to get something from the vending machine."
That was easier than he'd expected. Diana got a few dollar bills out of the top desk drawer and handed them over.
"He said to bring back any change," she said.
The vending machines were located by the restrooms, out of the line of sight of the agents in the bullpen. Neal got himself a granola bar and put it in his pocket.
Also by the restrooms was a door leading to a stairwell. He wondered how much time he had before Diana came looking for him. Somehow, he doubted that she'd be too quick to assume he was just in the bathroom.
And while Neal was in good shape, running down twenty-one floors and then up again was going to take some time.
He had a small envelope in his pocket, containing a letter for Kate. He'd stolen the envelope and stamp from the Burkes the other day, but hadn't had an opportunity to mail the letter. He needed to get to a mailbox. There was one a few blocks from the Burkes' house, but Elizabeth had been home most of the day yesterday, and didn't want him to take Satchmo out in the snow for too long. There was a mailbox not far from the federal building, but Neal needed more time than he had.
Discouraged, Neal headed back. He'd have to wait until he got a better chance. He dropped off the change at Diana's desk and headed up to the boardroom.
While he trudged through more and more files, he ate his granola bar and drank the barely-edible coffee.
He felt like he'd gone over a hundred cases, though it was closer to ten. He was starting to have a hard time keeping them apart in his mind.
But then, at last, he spotted something. It was a check fraud case, and he was studying the forged checks when he noticed a pattern in the dates on them. If he showed Peter, it might lead to something.
He was still smiling at himself over his success when he looked up and saw Peter coming through the door. As Peter jogged up the stairs, Neal got up and stuck his head out the door.
"Hey, Peter, I've got something you."
"It'll have to wait. Show it to me later."
Peter disappeared into Hughes' office, and Neal went back to his chair.
Now he wished he hadn't even bothered. He pushed the remaining files aside and leaned back. He was rocking his chair back and forth when, a few minutes later, he saw Jones and another agent lead a cuffed man off the elevator. The man was wearing a slave collar.
The agents led him down the hall, in the direction of the interrogation rooms, and a few minutes later Peter and Hughes emerged from the office and went in the same direction.
Something was going on. Neal got up and wandered back down to Diana's desk.
"What's with the slave they just brought in?" he asked.
She looked up at him. "Peter arrested the man who was selling the forged gemstones. He was making his slave create the forgeries. Peter's hoping the slave will cooperate."
"What's going to happen to him?"
"Don't know. We'll probably keep him here for a few days. We have holding cells. Then we'll send him to the city jail or a slave holding facility. It'll be up to the state to decide if he can be resold, or if he'll need to be held until after the trial is over."
Neal frowned. "He's not being charged for the gemstones?"
"Probably not. Diminished responsibility. His master was calling the shots."
Neal had heard about plots to buy slaves to use as accomplices in crimes. It made sense, but he'd never known anyone stupid enough to actually try it. The state ran background checks on buyers, and tracked purchases. Most criminals weren't gutsy enough to expose themselves like that.
He went back up to the boardroom and pretended to look through another file. He'd set the check fraud file to the side, ready to show Peter when he had time.
A half hour later, he looked up and saw both Peter and Hughes heading his way. He expected them to go into one of the offices but instead, they came into the boardroom. Neal sat up straighter.
"Neal," Peter said, "we need your help on something."
Neal glanced at Hughes and then focused his gaze on Peter. Smiling, he said, "Let me know how I can be of service."
"We've brought in a slave who's implicated in a gem forgery case," Peter said. "His master-"
"Was making him create forgeries. I've picked up the basics."
Peter raised his eyebrows, but continued. "We're sure his master forced him into it, but he doesn't want to cooperate."
Neal shrugged. "So, where do I come in?"
Hughes spoke up. "We want you to talk to him, slave to slave. Convince him that he'll be rewarded if he does the right thing here."
"Will he?"
"What?" Peter asked.
"Will he be rewarded? If I'm going to lie, I'd like to know."
"If he gives us valuable information," Hughes said, "we'll be willing to negotiate something. He can expect to get some time taken off his sentence."
"It's that simple? It doesn't matter that he made the forgeries?"
"His master took advantage of him and the system," Peter said. "He wasn't being treated well. If he helps us, we can help him."
Neal stood up. "I'll see what I can do."
Peter and Hughes led Neal down to the interrogation room. Neal peered through the window at the man sitting at the table. They'd uncuffed his hands, and he was resting them on the table. His hair was shorn short, and looked like someone had cut it haphazardly with some clippers.
"What's his name?" Neal asked.
"Trevor Wilkins," Peter said. "He's four years into a seven year sentence for making and selling forged gemstones."
Hughes unlocked the door and let Neal in. Trevor looked up at him.
Leaning against the table, Neal extended his hand and said, "I'm Neal Caffrey." He glanced at the window, but all he could see were their own reflections. But he knew Peter and Hughes were watching-and listening-on the other side.
"What? They're sending a slave in now? Like I'm more likely to listen to you?"
"You know, you really should cooperate with them. You scratch their backs, they'll scratch yours."
Trevor scoffed. "Do you really think they care about me? Nobody cared about us when we got auctioned off to the highest bidders. The only reason anyone gives a shit about me now is because I have evidence."
Neal shrugged. "You're right. They don't care. Well, individually they might. Agent Burke is a decent man. But to the government, you're just another slave. You have information they need."
"Yeah? And how do they like being at someone's mercy for a change?"
"You finally get some justice."
"There's no justice for slaves. I'm not even entitled to a lawyer."
"You're not being charged with anything. If you don't help these guys out, you'll just go back in the system. Serve out the rest of your sentence with a new master. But if you tell them what happened, they'll make sure you're rewarded for it. Seems to me, you're the one who comes out on top."
Trevor looked unconvinced, so Neal continued. "In a day or two, the papers are going to get wind of this. It's going to be embarrassing for the state-a convicted felon counterfeiting gemstones while enslaved. I'm sure the FBI would rather release the story that they saved an abused and exploited slave from a criminal."
"Yeah, 'cause it's not embarrassing for them that I got sold to that asshole in the first place. Instead of going after him for those gems, they should focus on how he treated me."
"If you go on the record, I'm sure they'll investigate your claims. They want a case against this guy."
Trevor fidgeted in his seat. With a sigh, he said, "Fine. I've got three years left on my sentence. If I help, I want them taken off. I want to go free after this."
Neal stole a glance toward the window. If he made Trevor any promises, Peter would be livid. And if the FBI wasn't willing to agree to Trevor's terms, Neal would just be giving him false hope.
"They're willing to take time off," he said. "I don't know how much, but if you're helpful, maybe you'll go free sooner rather than later."
Slowly, Trevor nodded. "Fine. Tell them I'll make a statement."
Neal smiled and started to walk to the door. As he reached for the knob, Trevor spoke up again.
"And I know where he kept his supplies. There's a storage unit. I'll tell them all about it."
Neal nodded and stepped out into the hall. He closed the door behind him and turned to face Peter and Hughes.
Peter grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. "That was great in there. If there is a storage unit, we might have a really strong case."
"What about Trevor? Are you going to take off his remaining time?"
Peter looked at Hughes, who shrugged.
"Normally we wouldn't offer a full commutation for this, but it's only three years. If he follows through with his information, I'm sure the DOJ will agree."
"All right, Neal," Peter said, "you can go now. If we need any more help, we'll let you know."
"Actually, I'm starting to get hungry. Would it be any problem if I went out to get some lunch? I could pick you up something?"
"No, I think I'll have you stay in the office today. I'll get us some lunch after I'm through here."
So much for that idea. He almost wished he hadn't asked-it would have been easier to sneak out and then claim he'd misinterpreted Peter's permission to leave. But he doubted that excuse would save him from a spanking.
Instead of going back to the boardroom, he headed to Peter's office. He sat in Peter's chair and leaned back.
Peter's chair was much nicer than the ones in the boardroom.
Neal felt at his jacket pocket and pulled out the letter to Kate. He was wearing an old blazer of Peter's-not exactly his choice of attire, but at least it had pockets that he could stash things in.
He tapped the envelope against his palm. Getting out of the office to mail it seemed impossible. He could try to put it in the outgoing mail, but he would have to find out when it was sent out.
And then there was one other option.
He reached into his pocket again and pulled out the piece of paper with Stephen's phone number. Neal looked around to make sure no one was watching him, and then picked up the phone on Peter's desk.
While the phone rang, Neal kept his eyes on the window in front of him. He expected someone to notice him at any moment, but he hoped that most of the agents wouldn't find it odd to see him on the phone.
After a few rings, Stephen picked up.
"Blanchard residence," he said.
"Stephen. This is Neal. We met at the party."
"Oh, hey. When I saw 'FBI' on the collar ID, I almost didn't answer."
"I'm calling from my master's office. I don't have a lot of time. You said you can mail things?"
"Yeah, sure."
"I have a letter I want to send to my girlfriend, but I'm having trouble sending it out."
"Okay. How did you want to get it to me?"
"That's the thing. I don't know when I'd be able to meet with you. Any chance you could transcribe it over the phone? I can reimburse you for the stamp and envelope later."
"Don't worry about it. Donna won't notice. Go ahead-I'm getting a piece of paper now."
Neal started to recite the letter from memory, speaking slowly to give Stephen time. "Dear Kate, I just received your note, and I hope it isn't too late to respond. I want to talk to you face-to-face. I can't wait four years to see you again. Have our friend arrange a day and time. Love, Neal."
"That it?" Stephen asked. "She'll know what friend you're talking about?"
"She'll know."
"How about I include a note saying that I wrote this for you? I mean, the handwriting will confuse her otherwise, won't it?"
"Sure, go ahead."
He heard some rustling in the background. Neal kept an eye on the window. He couldn't see Diana's desk, but that meant she couldn't see him, either.
"And what's the address?"
Neal told him, and then said, "Can you mail it today?"
"No problem. Donna's still at work, and I could use a break from the apartment."
As Neal hung up, he sat back and put his own copy of the letter back in his pocket. He thought that he if got a chance, he would still mail it, just in case. He didn't like leaving it in the hands of a stranger, but at least Stephen's copy couldn't be traced back to Neal too easily.
Normally, he would have given the letter to Moz to deliver, but Mozzie hadn't been around lately.
It was like everyone was deserting Neal.
But if he could see Kate, then everything would be okay.
* * *
Neal had his feet on the desk and was playing with the rubber band ball when Peter came into the office. He stood in the doorway and looked at Neal with narrowed eyes.
"I thought I gave you a job to do."
"I needed a break. Those files are mind-numbing. Did everything work out with Trevor?"
Peter nodded. "Yeah, he made a statement. We'll hold onto him here for a couple days, in case he thinks of anything else. Then we'll transfer him to the city jail. We agreed to take the three years off, so he should go free within a month or two."
Neal tossed the ball in the air. "I helped get the information. Do I get time off my sentence, too?"
"No."
Neal pouted.
"I still can't believe you're not going to charge him for the counterfeit gems," he said.
"It wouldn't be right to hold him responsible for something his master was making him do."
Neal grinned. "So, you could make me forge artwork, bonds, anything you wanted, and I wouldn't get arrested for it?"
Peter narrowed his eyes. "If I was completely insane and had a reason to make you do that, yes." He swatted Neal's foot. "Don't get any stupid ideas. Being a slave isn't a get out of jail free card."
Neal took his feel of the desk. Of course he wasn't stupid. And he knew he could have time added to his sentence for the slightest infraction. They'd drilled it into him during training. Besides, he wouldn't want to see Peter arrested for something he had nothing to do with.
Even so, it was good to know that there were some perks to being a slave.
Sobering, Neal said, "Is it true Trevor's owner was mistreating him?"
"I think Trevor might have exaggerated that point a bit. I don't know if there was any abuse, aside from making him commit the forgeries. He was chained up when we got there, though. It's not illegal, but most owners aren't that restrictive. It'll help show the jury that he was using Trevor as a tool to commit his crimes. And it'll say something about his character. There's always something off about people who chain up their slaves like dogs."
Neal could certainly agree with that. He had to admit that he could do a lot worse than Peter when it came to masters.
But Neal's face brightened when he remembered the file in the other room.
"By the way, I think I found a lead in one of those files. The check fraud case."
Peter grinned. "Oh, yeah? That's great."
Neal got up and went to the boardroom to get the file. When he came back, Peter was sitting in the chair Neal had vacated.
He nodded approvingly while Neal showed him what he'd found. He waited until Neal finished to speak.
"Great work. I'll have Jones look into this. I'm going to go get us some lunch now. I think you earned yourself something good."
"Can I come with you?"
Peter seemed to consider that. He looked at Neal with sympathy, like he realized that Neal must be getting cabin fever by now.
"I've got another errand to run. You'd just slow me down. But I'll tell you what-when I get back, we can eat lunch together outside."
After Peter left, Neal tried to take another stab at the remaining files in the boardroom.
He hadn't made much progress when Diana poked her head in the door and told him that Peter was downstairs, waiting for him.
Neal's nerves buzzed as he rode the elevator down by himself. He felt truly unsupervised, if only for a few minutes.
He stepped outside and squinted his eyes in the harsh sun. It was a cold afternoon, and he gathered his coat around him. Looking left and right, he saw Peter waving him over.
He walked over to the bench where Peter was sitting.
"Kind of chilly for eating lunch outside, isn't it?"
"Oh, cowboy up. It's invigorating."
"If I get hypothermia, I'm blaming you."
He sat down beside Peter. Peter handed him a warm, foil-wrapped sandwich.
"A cheesesteak," Neal said. "It smells good."
"One of the best in the city."
Peter also had a bag from a bookstore. Neal eyed it, wondering what was so important that Peter wanted to get it on his lunch break.
As if noticing Neal's interest, Peter said, "I got something for you." He set his sandwich on his lap and picked up the bag. He took out a book and handed it to Neal.
"A GED study guide?"
"Yep. El and I decided you should get your GED."
"What? When was this decided?"
"This morning."
"Why didn't I get a say?"
"Because you were too busy preening in front of the bathroom mirror. If you want to be a part of breakfast-table discussions, you have to join us for breakfast."
That was hardly fair. He had joined them for breakfast, but they were already finishing by the time he got downstairs.
"What if I don't want to get my GED?"
Peter frowned. "This isn't optional. We've already decided. What's the matter? I didn't expect you to be excited, but I didn't think you'd have any objections."
"I don't need my GED, Peter. I've done just fine without it."
"Considering your life choices have led to slavery, I think we can debate that. Listen, I'm just asking you to do your best. Having your GED won't hurt. It'll give you more options after you're freed. You can even go to college if you want. If you won't do it for yourself, do it for me and El. We feel like we have a duty to you, as your owners."
Neal couldn't argue with anything Peter had said. Still, against all logic, he hated the idea that Peter was trying to improve him.
But he knew that Peter meant well.
"Okay," he said. "I'll guess I'll give it a try."
"Great," Peter said with a grin. "Now let's eat before our food gets cold."
* * *
Neal spent the rest of the afternoon sitting across from Peter's desk.
Peter wanted him to start studying, so that was what Neal did. After a couple hours, he was halfway through the study guide. He set it down and looked up at Peter, who was working on the computer.
"Do I really need to go through this whole book? I already know all of this."
"There are more practice questions in the back. Work on those."
"If I get them all right, can we agree that I don't need to study?"
Peter stopped typing and looked at him. "If you'd rather go over some more case files...."
"I'd rather study."
Neal went back to reading. A minute later, Hughes came in.
Leaning in the doorway, Hughes said, "Before I go home, I wanted to say good job on this jewel case."
"Thanks. Some of the credit goes to Neal. He was a big help with the slave."
"That he was." Hughes looked at the cover of Neal's book. "The GED, huh?"
"Yeah. Neal told me he never finished high school, so I thought it'd be a good idea."
"I think it's a great idea. A lot of owners never give any thought to what will happen to their slaves when they're freed. It's good to see you're thinking of Caffrey's future."
Peter beamed, soaking up the praise. "Thank you, sir. I agree. Though, I think Neal still has some stuff to learn about being a slave before he focuses on the future too much."
"That's how it always is with these short-term slaves, Peter. They can't be conditioned like the longer-term slaves can be. It takes too much time. And those slaves serving twenty or thirty years have a tough time adjusting to freedom. It's not worth all that for only four years."
"Yeah, I guess you have a point."
"You and Elizabeth are doing a great job as it is. And you can handle Caffrey. Too many owners let their slaves walk all over them. They forget that these are convicted felons."
"Neal knows he can't get anything by me."
Neal had some things he could say to that, but he thought it best to keep his mouth shut.
Hughes said goodbye, and then it was just the two of them again.
Looking through the glass wall, Neal saw the agents in the bullpen file out the door and into the elevators.
Peter noticed him watching, and said, "Don't worry-we'll be going home soon. I just have a couple things to finish up."
Neal leaned back and rubbed his neck.
"Your collar still bothering you?"
"A little bit, yeah. You know, I was reading a copy of Master & Slave magazine the other day. It had an article about how most countries in Europe have done away with collars."
"Most owners still make their slaves wear them. But you know that-you spent quite a lot of time in Europe."
"Yeah, but it's optional. And the collars aren't so...secure. In England, leather collars are popular." He sat up. "It's not that I mind the collar so much. But it does get tiring after a while. Don't you think I deserve a break from it, just for a few minutes?"
Peter gave him a warning look. "Neal, the law says that slaves have to wear a collar at all times."
"There are exceptions. Like if I'm at the hospital, or in the custody of law enforcement. You're an FBI agent, and we're in FBI headquarters. Doesn't that count? Just five minutes, Peter. And I won't ask again."
For a minute, Peter just ignored him, and Neal was prepared to accept that it was a lost cause. But then, Peter sighed and rolled his chair back. He dug his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the bottom desk drawer, the one Neal had tried to pick his way into last time.
"All right. Five minutes. But only because you were a big help today, and because no one else is around."
Neal beamed. He never imagined Peter would actually agree. He watched as Peter opened the drawer and pulled out a sturdy metal lockbox. He used another key to open that, and Neal saw that it held a collection of collar keys.
As he selected the right one, Peter said, "I know that thing's probably heavy. I wouldn't want to wear it either, but that's the law."
He got up and walked around to Neal. He pushed Neal's head forward, and Neal felt him tug at his collar. There was a small click, and the collar opened. After Peter took it off, he immediately locked it and set it on the desk.
"The sensor will send an alert if it's unlocked for too long," he said.
The lightness was strange. Neal hadn't realized how normal the collar had become. Truthfully, the collar didn't impede his movement too much. But nevertheless, having it off made him feel freer. Neal twisted his neck and rolled his head.
As he sat back down, Peter smiled at Neal. "Feel good?"
"Yeah."
"Hold onto that feeling. Think about how nice it'll be when you get that taken off for good."
It figured Peter would try to find a way to make this educational. At the moment, Neal didn't care. He reached over and picked up the collar, eager to look at the details that he couldn't see well in the mirror.
His slave number was engraved along the front. At the back, he saw the lock, which was barely more than a couple pinholes. The clasp was almost indistinguishable. He could make out the casing that concealed the GPS transmitter and the lock sensor.
Next, he studied the tag that Peter had affixed to the D-ring.
After a few minutes, Peter turned off his computer monitor and stood up.
"All right, Neal. Time to put it back on."
With a sigh, he handed the collar to Peter. Peter unlocked it, put it around Neal's neck, and then gave it a soft tug to make sure it was locked. He squeezed Neal's shoulders.
The metal had started to cool, and it chilled Neal's skin.
Peter put away the key and locked the metal box back in the desk.
"Okay," he said, "let's go home."
* * *
It was getting dark as they drove home. When they arrived, Elizabeth was making dinner.
She was stirring a pot on the stove. Peter wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck.
"Hey," she said, "how was work?"
"Good. Neal helped me close that fake gem case I was working on."
"That's wonderful!" She glanced at Neal and smiled.
Rubbing her back, Peter said, "How was your day?"
Elizabeth sighed. "I'm exhausted. I spent all afternoon scouting out wedding venues. And I still have work to do for the Singleman New Year's Eve Party."
"That's a shame. I thought maybe we could call it an early night, spend a little time together...."
Elizabeth gave him an apologetic smile. "I'd love to, but I don't know if I'd be good company tonight. Maybe later. And once Christmas and New Years are over, I'm all yours."
"I'll look forward to it."
While he listened to them, Neal grew uneasy. Peter was obviously in an amorous mood, and even if he would have preferred to spend some time with his wife, Neal was sure he wouldn't mind having sex with him, instead.
Sure enough, after dinner was over, Peter snuck up on Neal while he was clearing the table. Wrapping his arms around Neal's waist, he said, "Don't know about you, but my adrenaline's always pumping after a good day. How about we go upstairs?"
Neal was ready for this. He broke away from Peter's arms and carried the plates to the sink to rinse.
"Honestly, I'm beat. I was thinking of heading to bed after this."
"It's only seven."
Neal shrugged. "What can I say? It's been a long day."
It wasn't even a lie-Neal really did feel like he could go to sleep at any time.
Peter was silent for a moment, looking disappointed. Then he said, "That's no problem. I can use your ass, and you won't have to do anything. Just lie down, spread your legs, and take it easy until I'm done. Couldn't be easier."
"How efficient."
Peter patted him on the back. "C'mon. Finish up here and then go upstairs. We'll do it in your room."
Peter's tone told him there was no room for argument.
After he was done cleaning up, Neal went up to his room and got into his pajamas. Peter came in a few minutes later, carrying a bottle of lube.
"You ready?" Peter asked.
"Do I have a choice?"
Peter clicked his tongue. "C'mon, get your pants off. Do you want to do it on your hands and knees, or do you want to bend over the bed?"
Neal didn't see how it made any difference. Slowly, he took off his pajama bottoms and bent over the side of the bed. Peter came up behind him. He was still clothed, and Neal felt the fabric of his trousers against his skin. He put his hands on the insides of Neal's thighs and tried to pry them apart.
"Spread your legs."
Neal didn't budge. Peter gave him a light slap on the ass-more of a warning than a punishment-and Neal sighed and inched his feet apart.
He heard the clink of Peter's belt buckle and a soft rustling sound as Peter lowered his pants. A moment later, Peter pressed a cold, lubed finger into Neal's hole.
Neal folded his arms under his head. He was glad when the preparation was quick and efficient. Being fingered was one of the most intimate and humiliating acts that he had to endure. Even having Peter's cock up his ass was more distant and bearable, somehow.
When Peter pushed his cock inside, Neal's ass burned from the stretch. He instinctively clenched his muscles, and Peter gave him another slap on the ass.
"Loosen up. I thought you were tired."
"I am."
"Then relax."
Neal was tired. Not too tired to give Peter a hard time, but too tired to want to. Peter was just as relentless as he was, and Neal didn't feel like battling wits tonight.
So he forced his muscles to relax, and he closed his eyes. It wasn't exactly easy. Peter's cock may not have been much larger than average, but it felt huge inside him. His ass felt like it couldn't stretch any more. But Peter was right-he was tired, and that made it easier to relax.
Once Peter got into a rhythm, it was surprisingly easy to be lulled by the way Peter's thrusts rocked him back and forth.
He wondered what it would be like to do this in different circumstances. It wasn't that hard to see why some men enjoyed it. Hell, maybe someday he would ask Kate to do this with him. Maybe she could use a strap-on.
With that thought, his cock got a little harder.
And maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be fucked by a man who didn't own him. Neal wasn't attracted to men, but the idea of sex with one wasn't so foreign, anymore.
But this wasn't exactly like having sex. Peter didn't seem to know if he wanted to have sex with Neal the man or fuck Neal the sex slave. And Peter never let him forget who the master was.
Neal rested his cheek against the cool bed. The quilt felt nice. The next thing he knew, he was jolted back to awareness by Peter gripping his hips and grunting. When Peter pulled out a moment later, he patted Neal's back.
"Looked like you were dozing off, there."
Neal swallowed. "Just resting my eyes."
Peter stroked his hip. "I'm glad you're getting used to this."
Neal clenched his teeth. He was not "getting used to it."
Peter reached around and touched Neal's half-hard cock. "Didn't come this time?" He sounded disappointed. "If you want, I can-"
Neal pushed himself up on his elbows. "Like I said, I'm tired."
"Yeah, all right. I guess we'll let you rest now. I'm going to go hit the shower."
He gave Neal a gentle swat on the ass and left him. After a moment, Neal pulled up his pajama bottoms and crawled up onto the bed.
Chapter 17
This entry was originally posted at http://citrinesunset.dreamwidth.org/115941.html. Please comment there using OpenID.
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/Pairing: Neal/Peter, Peter/Elizabeth/Neal, Neal/Elizabeth, Peter/Elizabeth, references to Neal/Kate
Rating: Explicit
Contains: Non-con, dub-con, institutionalized slavery, spanking, humiliation, dark!Peter, dark!Elizabeth, sex, rimming
Word count: 6600 this part. About 122k total.
Summary: After being convicted of bond forgery, Neal is sentenced to four years of slavery. But he isn't prepared to be purchased by Peter Burke. Or for what Peter has in store for him.
Notes: See Chapter 1 for details.
On Wednesday, Peter insisted on using the leash again. He led Neal inside the federal building, but instead of taking him to the elevator, they stopped at the front security desk.
"Agent Burke," he said. "I ordered a tag for him." He jerked his thumb back, indicating Neal.
"Wait," Neal said, "what's a tag?"
Peter ignored him. The security guard rifled through a drawer and pulled out something looked a bit like a luggage tag. He double-checked the information printed on it and handed it to Peter.
"There you go."
Peter grabbed Neal's collar and looped the tag around it. It was made of thin white plastic, but it fastened securely, like a hospital bracelet. It would need to be cut off.
"What is this thing?" Neal asked.
Peter unclipped the leash. While he put it in his briefcase, Neal lifted up the tag and strained his eyes downward in an attempt to read the tag. All he could make out was Peter's name and his own slave ID number.
"That's a slave tag," Peter said. "We put them on slaves who come in here, so they can be identified quickly."
"Seriously? This thing tickles."
"It's either that, or I can chain you to my desk. Or, I can let you move freely around the building, at your own risk."
"Yeah, you could," Neal said, waiting for the catch.
"And then, when someone notices an unidentified slave wandering around, they'll stick you in a cage until they locate me."
"I guess I'll take the tag."
Peter slapped him on the back. "Thought so. But hey, maybe we can go without it after everyone gets to know you more. For now, let's just play things by the book."
The implication that Peter was just trying to keep the higher-ups happy eased Neal's annoyance. If Peter was supposed to tag him, Neal could play along.
As they rode up in the elevator, Neal tried again to read the tag.
"What does this thing say, anyway?" he asked.
"It gives your name and ID number, and the name of the agent who brought you in. That would be me."
"Why do you need tag slaves? How many slaves do you guys deal with?"
"Occasionally, we have to bring a slave in as part of an investigation."
Suddenly, Neal realized what the tag reminded him of. It was an evidence tag.
Before he could remark on that, they reached their floor. Neal followed Peter into the white collar division offices. Several of the agents paused to look at Neal as he walked past. Obviously, seeing a slave around the office was still a novel experience. Despite the precaution of the tag, Neal suspected everyone already knew that he was Peter's. Enough of them had seen him when he was there the last time, and gossip always traveled fast in an office.
Neal followed Peter to his office and plopped down in one of the chairs in front of the desk.
"So," he asked. "What do I do now?"
"I'm going to have you look over some old case files, see if you can find anything we missed. Diana will get some for you."
"Diana. She's your probie, right?"
"That's right. And when I'm not around, you'll listen to her. Is that clear?"
"Crystal."
But at the moment, there wasn't anything to do. He picked up a rubber band ball off Peter's desk and slumped back in his chair. He played with that while Peter typed away on the computer.
After what felt like an eternity, Diana stuck her head in the door. Neal recognized her from the last time he came to the office.
"I've got those files for Caffrey, Boss," she said. "They're in the boardroom."
"Great," Peter said. "Thanks." Looking at Neal, he said, "You can go in the boardroom to look the files over."
"What am I looking for, exactly?"
"Anything you think will help."
Neal stood up and tossed the rubber band ball back on the desk. He went next door to the boardroom, where he found a considerable pile of files sitting on the table.
This was going to take a while. He just hoped they were interesting cases.
He sat down facing the windows that looked out over the bullpen. From this perspective, he couldn't see much. But he could make out some heads looking in his direction.
As he delved into the files, he discovered that most of them were the opposite of interesting. He'd never realized how many mortgage fraud cases there were. No wonder Peter was so enamored with him-if these cases made up the bulk of Peter's caseload, the man must have been desperate for a good art theft or forgery.
He'd been at it for over an hour when his eyes started to glaze over. He was resting his chin on his hand when Peter came in.
"How's it going?"
Looking up, Neal said, "You know, when you said I'd be helping you solve cases, I expected something more exciting."
"Tough. Are you making any progress?"
"The pile is getting shorter." He fiddled with his collar and rubbed at the skin underneath.
"I know you don't like that tag," Peter said. "I'll ask Hughes if you might be able to go without it."
"Oh, it's not just that. I slept on my collar wrong last night. Now my neck is sore."
Peter clicked his tongue sympathetically. "Anyway, I wanted to tell you that a warrant I've been waiting on just came through, so I have to head out for a while. Diana's going to stay here-if you need anything, let her know."
"Wait, can I come with you? A warrant sounds exciting."
"No, we don't need you tagging along. You just keep doing your work. I can't wait to hear what you come up with."
As Peter left, Neal sat back in his chair with a frown. It figured he'd get left out the minute something interesting happened.
He waited a few minutes for Peter to leave, and then got up from the table and ventured out of the room.
Diana was at her desk. Neal breezed past her and walked over to the coffee machine. At home, coffee was usually a reward for doing his chores. But Peter hadn't said anything about at the office.
He poured himself a cup and stirred in some powdered creamer. As he stirred it with a plastic coffee stirrer, he wandered over to Diana's desk. He leaned on the empty desk in front of her.
"So," he said, "you're Peter's probie."
She looked up from the file she was studying. "That's right. I thought Peter gave you some work to do."
Neal held up his cup. "Coffee break. I'm entitled to stretch my legs, right?" He took a sip of the coffee and felt himself cringe involuntarily. "Is the coffee always this bad?"
Diana smirked. "It's an acquired taste."
"So, Peter said he got a warrant he was waiting for. Big case?"
"Some counterfeit gemstones popped up last week. We were able to trace them, and we finally got enough for a warrant."
"Sounds exciting. Bet you hate being stuck here."
"Oh, I see plenty of action."
Neal looked around. He didn't know any of the other agents. Jones had been there earlier, but he wasn't anymore. He must have gone with Peter.
"Hey," Neal said, "I don't suppose there's any way I could get a snack around here, is there?"
"Actually, Peter did leave me a few dollars in case you wanted to get something from the vending machine."
That was easier than he'd expected. Diana got a few dollar bills out of the top desk drawer and handed them over.
"He said to bring back any change," she said.
The vending machines were located by the restrooms, out of the line of sight of the agents in the bullpen. Neal got himself a granola bar and put it in his pocket.
Also by the restrooms was a door leading to a stairwell. He wondered how much time he had before Diana came looking for him. Somehow, he doubted that she'd be too quick to assume he was just in the bathroom.
And while Neal was in good shape, running down twenty-one floors and then up again was going to take some time.
He had a small envelope in his pocket, containing a letter for Kate. He'd stolen the envelope and stamp from the Burkes the other day, but hadn't had an opportunity to mail the letter. He needed to get to a mailbox. There was one a few blocks from the Burkes' house, but Elizabeth had been home most of the day yesterday, and didn't want him to take Satchmo out in the snow for too long. There was a mailbox not far from the federal building, but Neal needed more time than he had.
Discouraged, Neal headed back. He'd have to wait until he got a better chance. He dropped off the change at Diana's desk and headed up to the boardroom.
While he trudged through more and more files, he ate his granola bar and drank the barely-edible coffee.
He felt like he'd gone over a hundred cases, though it was closer to ten. He was starting to have a hard time keeping them apart in his mind.
But then, at last, he spotted something. It was a check fraud case, and he was studying the forged checks when he noticed a pattern in the dates on them. If he showed Peter, it might lead to something.
He was still smiling at himself over his success when he looked up and saw Peter coming through the door. As Peter jogged up the stairs, Neal got up and stuck his head out the door.
"Hey, Peter, I've got something you."
"It'll have to wait. Show it to me later."
Peter disappeared into Hughes' office, and Neal went back to his chair.
Now he wished he hadn't even bothered. He pushed the remaining files aside and leaned back. He was rocking his chair back and forth when, a few minutes later, he saw Jones and another agent lead a cuffed man off the elevator. The man was wearing a slave collar.
The agents led him down the hall, in the direction of the interrogation rooms, and a few minutes later Peter and Hughes emerged from the office and went in the same direction.
Something was going on. Neal got up and wandered back down to Diana's desk.
"What's with the slave they just brought in?" he asked.
She looked up at him. "Peter arrested the man who was selling the forged gemstones. He was making his slave create the forgeries. Peter's hoping the slave will cooperate."
"What's going to happen to him?"
"Don't know. We'll probably keep him here for a few days. We have holding cells. Then we'll send him to the city jail or a slave holding facility. It'll be up to the state to decide if he can be resold, or if he'll need to be held until after the trial is over."
Neal frowned. "He's not being charged for the gemstones?"
"Probably not. Diminished responsibility. His master was calling the shots."
Neal had heard about plots to buy slaves to use as accomplices in crimes. It made sense, but he'd never known anyone stupid enough to actually try it. The state ran background checks on buyers, and tracked purchases. Most criminals weren't gutsy enough to expose themselves like that.
He went back up to the boardroom and pretended to look through another file. He'd set the check fraud file to the side, ready to show Peter when he had time.
A half hour later, he looked up and saw both Peter and Hughes heading his way. He expected them to go into one of the offices but instead, they came into the boardroom. Neal sat up straighter.
"Neal," Peter said, "we need your help on something."
Neal glanced at Hughes and then focused his gaze on Peter. Smiling, he said, "Let me know how I can be of service."
"We've brought in a slave who's implicated in a gem forgery case," Peter said. "His master-"
"Was making him create forgeries. I've picked up the basics."
Peter raised his eyebrows, but continued. "We're sure his master forced him into it, but he doesn't want to cooperate."
Neal shrugged. "So, where do I come in?"
Hughes spoke up. "We want you to talk to him, slave to slave. Convince him that he'll be rewarded if he does the right thing here."
"Will he?"
"What?" Peter asked.
"Will he be rewarded? If I'm going to lie, I'd like to know."
"If he gives us valuable information," Hughes said, "we'll be willing to negotiate something. He can expect to get some time taken off his sentence."
"It's that simple? It doesn't matter that he made the forgeries?"
"His master took advantage of him and the system," Peter said. "He wasn't being treated well. If he helps us, we can help him."
Neal stood up. "I'll see what I can do."
Peter and Hughes led Neal down to the interrogation room. Neal peered through the window at the man sitting at the table. They'd uncuffed his hands, and he was resting them on the table. His hair was shorn short, and looked like someone had cut it haphazardly with some clippers.
"What's his name?" Neal asked.
"Trevor Wilkins," Peter said. "He's four years into a seven year sentence for making and selling forged gemstones."
Hughes unlocked the door and let Neal in. Trevor looked up at him.
Leaning against the table, Neal extended his hand and said, "I'm Neal Caffrey." He glanced at the window, but all he could see were their own reflections. But he knew Peter and Hughes were watching-and listening-on the other side.
"What? They're sending a slave in now? Like I'm more likely to listen to you?"
"You know, you really should cooperate with them. You scratch their backs, they'll scratch yours."
Trevor scoffed. "Do you really think they care about me? Nobody cared about us when we got auctioned off to the highest bidders. The only reason anyone gives a shit about me now is because I have evidence."
Neal shrugged. "You're right. They don't care. Well, individually they might. Agent Burke is a decent man. But to the government, you're just another slave. You have information they need."
"Yeah? And how do they like being at someone's mercy for a change?"
"You finally get some justice."
"There's no justice for slaves. I'm not even entitled to a lawyer."
"You're not being charged with anything. If you don't help these guys out, you'll just go back in the system. Serve out the rest of your sentence with a new master. But if you tell them what happened, they'll make sure you're rewarded for it. Seems to me, you're the one who comes out on top."
Trevor looked unconvinced, so Neal continued. "In a day or two, the papers are going to get wind of this. It's going to be embarrassing for the state-a convicted felon counterfeiting gemstones while enslaved. I'm sure the FBI would rather release the story that they saved an abused and exploited slave from a criminal."
"Yeah, 'cause it's not embarrassing for them that I got sold to that asshole in the first place. Instead of going after him for those gems, they should focus on how he treated me."
"If you go on the record, I'm sure they'll investigate your claims. They want a case against this guy."
Trevor fidgeted in his seat. With a sigh, he said, "Fine. I've got three years left on my sentence. If I help, I want them taken off. I want to go free after this."
Neal stole a glance toward the window. If he made Trevor any promises, Peter would be livid. And if the FBI wasn't willing to agree to Trevor's terms, Neal would just be giving him false hope.
"They're willing to take time off," he said. "I don't know how much, but if you're helpful, maybe you'll go free sooner rather than later."
Slowly, Trevor nodded. "Fine. Tell them I'll make a statement."
Neal smiled and started to walk to the door. As he reached for the knob, Trevor spoke up again.
"And I know where he kept his supplies. There's a storage unit. I'll tell them all about it."
Neal nodded and stepped out into the hall. He closed the door behind him and turned to face Peter and Hughes.
Peter grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. "That was great in there. If there is a storage unit, we might have a really strong case."
"What about Trevor? Are you going to take off his remaining time?"
Peter looked at Hughes, who shrugged.
"Normally we wouldn't offer a full commutation for this, but it's only three years. If he follows through with his information, I'm sure the DOJ will agree."
"All right, Neal," Peter said, "you can go now. If we need any more help, we'll let you know."
"Actually, I'm starting to get hungry. Would it be any problem if I went out to get some lunch? I could pick you up something?"
"No, I think I'll have you stay in the office today. I'll get us some lunch after I'm through here."
So much for that idea. He almost wished he hadn't asked-it would have been easier to sneak out and then claim he'd misinterpreted Peter's permission to leave. But he doubted that excuse would save him from a spanking.
Instead of going back to the boardroom, he headed to Peter's office. He sat in Peter's chair and leaned back.
Peter's chair was much nicer than the ones in the boardroom.
Neal felt at his jacket pocket and pulled out the letter to Kate. He was wearing an old blazer of Peter's-not exactly his choice of attire, but at least it had pockets that he could stash things in.
He tapped the envelope against his palm. Getting out of the office to mail it seemed impossible. He could try to put it in the outgoing mail, but he would have to find out when it was sent out.
And then there was one other option.
He reached into his pocket again and pulled out the piece of paper with Stephen's phone number. Neal looked around to make sure no one was watching him, and then picked up the phone on Peter's desk.
While the phone rang, Neal kept his eyes on the window in front of him. He expected someone to notice him at any moment, but he hoped that most of the agents wouldn't find it odd to see him on the phone.
After a few rings, Stephen picked up.
"Blanchard residence," he said.
"Stephen. This is Neal. We met at the party."
"Oh, hey. When I saw 'FBI' on the collar ID, I almost didn't answer."
"I'm calling from my master's office. I don't have a lot of time. You said you can mail things?"
"Yeah, sure."
"I have a letter I want to send to my girlfriend, but I'm having trouble sending it out."
"Okay. How did you want to get it to me?"
"That's the thing. I don't know when I'd be able to meet with you. Any chance you could transcribe it over the phone? I can reimburse you for the stamp and envelope later."
"Don't worry about it. Donna won't notice. Go ahead-I'm getting a piece of paper now."
Neal started to recite the letter from memory, speaking slowly to give Stephen time. "Dear Kate, I just received your note, and I hope it isn't too late to respond. I want to talk to you face-to-face. I can't wait four years to see you again. Have our friend arrange a day and time. Love, Neal."
"That it?" Stephen asked. "She'll know what friend you're talking about?"
"She'll know."
"How about I include a note saying that I wrote this for you? I mean, the handwriting will confuse her otherwise, won't it?"
"Sure, go ahead."
He heard some rustling in the background. Neal kept an eye on the window. He couldn't see Diana's desk, but that meant she couldn't see him, either.
"And what's the address?"
Neal told him, and then said, "Can you mail it today?"
"No problem. Donna's still at work, and I could use a break from the apartment."
As Neal hung up, he sat back and put his own copy of the letter back in his pocket. He thought that he if got a chance, he would still mail it, just in case. He didn't like leaving it in the hands of a stranger, but at least Stephen's copy couldn't be traced back to Neal too easily.
Normally, he would have given the letter to Moz to deliver, but Mozzie hadn't been around lately.
It was like everyone was deserting Neal.
But if he could see Kate, then everything would be okay.
* * *
Neal had his feet on the desk and was playing with the rubber band ball when Peter came into the office. He stood in the doorway and looked at Neal with narrowed eyes.
"I thought I gave you a job to do."
"I needed a break. Those files are mind-numbing. Did everything work out with Trevor?"
Peter nodded. "Yeah, he made a statement. We'll hold onto him here for a couple days, in case he thinks of anything else. Then we'll transfer him to the city jail. We agreed to take the three years off, so he should go free within a month or two."
Neal tossed the ball in the air. "I helped get the information. Do I get time off my sentence, too?"
"No."
Neal pouted.
"I still can't believe you're not going to charge him for the counterfeit gems," he said.
"It wouldn't be right to hold him responsible for something his master was making him do."
Neal grinned. "So, you could make me forge artwork, bonds, anything you wanted, and I wouldn't get arrested for it?"
Peter narrowed his eyes. "If I was completely insane and had a reason to make you do that, yes." He swatted Neal's foot. "Don't get any stupid ideas. Being a slave isn't a get out of jail free card."
Neal took his feel of the desk. Of course he wasn't stupid. And he knew he could have time added to his sentence for the slightest infraction. They'd drilled it into him during training. Besides, he wouldn't want to see Peter arrested for something he had nothing to do with.
Even so, it was good to know that there were some perks to being a slave.
Sobering, Neal said, "Is it true Trevor's owner was mistreating him?"
"I think Trevor might have exaggerated that point a bit. I don't know if there was any abuse, aside from making him commit the forgeries. He was chained up when we got there, though. It's not illegal, but most owners aren't that restrictive. It'll help show the jury that he was using Trevor as a tool to commit his crimes. And it'll say something about his character. There's always something off about people who chain up their slaves like dogs."
Neal could certainly agree with that. He had to admit that he could do a lot worse than Peter when it came to masters.
But Neal's face brightened when he remembered the file in the other room.
"By the way, I think I found a lead in one of those files. The check fraud case."
Peter grinned. "Oh, yeah? That's great."
Neal got up and went to the boardroom to get the file. When he came back, Peter was sitting in the chair Neal had vacated.
He nodded approvingly while Neal showed him what he'd found. He waited until Neal finished to speak.
"Great work. I'll have Jones look into this. I'm going to go get us some lunch now. I think you earned yourself something good."
"Can I come with you?"
Peter seemed to consider that. He looked at Neal with sympathy, like he realized that Neal must be getting cabin fever by now.
"I've got another errand to run. You'd just slow me down. But I'll tell you what-when I get back, we can eat lunch together outside."
After Peter left, Neal tried to take another stab at the remaining files in the boardroom.
He hadn't made much progress when Diana poked her head in the door and told him that Peter was downstairs, waiting for him.
Neal's nerves buzzed as he rode the elevator down by himself. He felt truly unsupervised, if only for a few minutes.
He stepped outside and squinted his eyes in the harsh sun. It was a cold afternoon, and he gathered his coat around him. Looking left and right, he saw Peter waving him over.
He walked over to the bench where Peter was sitting.
"Kind of chilly for eating lunch outside, isn't it?"
"Oh, cowboy up. It's invigorating."
"If I get hypothermia, I'm blaming you."
He sat down beside Peter. Peter handed him a warm, foil-wrapped sandwich.
"A cheesesteak," Neal said. "It smells good."
"One of the best in the city."
Peter also had a bag from a bookstore. Neal eyed it, wondering what was so important that Peter wanted to get it on his lunch break.
As if noticing Neal's interest, Peter said, "I got something for you." He set his sandwich on his lap and picked up the bag. He took out a book and handed it to Neal.
"A GED study guide?"
"Yep. El and I decided you should get your GED."
"What? When was this decided?"
"This morning."
"Why didn't I get a say?"
"Because you were too busy preening in front of the bathroom mirror. If you want to be a part of breakfast-table discussions, you have to join us for breakfast."
That was hardly fair. He had joined them for breakfast, but they were already finishing by the time he got downstairs.
"What if I don't want to get my GED?"
Peter frowned. "This isn't optional. We've already decided. What's the matter? I didn't expect you to be excited, but I didn't think you'd have any objections."
"I don't need my GED, Peter. I've done just fine without it."
"Considering your life choices have led to slavery, I think we can debate that. Listen, I'm just asking you to do your best. Having your GED won't hurt. It'll give you more options after you're freed. You can even go to college if you want. If you won't do it for yourself, do it for me and El. We feel like we have a duty to you, as your owners."
Neal couldn't argue with anything Peter had said. Still, against all logic, he hated the idea that Peter was trying to improve him.
But he knew that Peter meant well.
"Okay," he said. "I'll guess I'll give it a try."
"Great," Peter said with a grin. "Now let's eat before our food gets cold."
* * *
Neal spent the rest of the afternoon sitting across from Peter's desk.
Peter wanted him to start studying, so that was what Neal did. After a couple hours, he was halfway through the study guide. He set it down and looked up at Peter, who was working on the computer.
"Do I really need to go through this whole book? I already know all of this."
"There are more practice questions in the back. Work on those."
"If I get them all right, can we agree that I don't need to study?"
Peter stopped typing and looked at him. "If you'd rather go over some more case files...."
"I'd rather study."
Neal went back to reading. A minute later, Hughes came in.
Leaning in the doorway, Hughes said, "Before I go home, I wanted to say good job on this jewel case."
"Thanks. Some of the credit goes to Neal. He was a big help with the slave."
"That he was." Hughes looked at the cover of Neal's book. "The GED, huh?"
"Yeah. Neal told me he never finished high school, so I thought it'd be a good idea."
"I think it's a great idea. A lot of owners never give any thought to what will happen to their slaves when they're freed. It's good to see you're thinking of Caffrey's future."
Peter beamed, soaking up the praise. "Thank you, sir. I agree. Though, I think Neal still has some stuff to learn about being a slave before he focuses on the future too much."
"That's how it always is with these short-term slaves, Peter. They can't be conditioned like the longer-term slaves can be. It takes too much time. And those slaves serving twenty or thirty years have a tough time adjusting to freedom. It's not worth all that for only four years."
"Yeah, I guess you have a point."
"You and Elizabeth are doing a great job as it is. And you can handle Caffrey. Too many owners let their slaves walk all over them. They forget that these are convicted felons."
"Neal knows he can't get anything by me."
Neal had some things he could say to that, but he thought it best to keep his mouth shut.
Hughes said goodbye, and then it was just the two of them again.
Looking through the glass wall, Neal saw the agents in the bullpen file out the door and into the elevators.
Peter noticed him watching, and said, "Don't worry-we'll be going home soon. I just have a couple things to finish up."
Neal leaned back and rubbed his neck.
"Your collar still bothering you?"
"A little bit, yeah. You know, I was reading a copy of Master & Slave magazine the other day. It had an article about how most countries in Europe have done away with collars."
"Most owners still make their slaves wear them. But you know that-you spent quite a lot of time in Europe."
"Yeah, but it's optional. And the collars aren't so...secure. In England, leather collars are popular." He sat up. "It's not that I mind the collar so much. But it does get tiring after a while. Don't you think I deserve a break from it, just for a few minutes?"
Peter gave him a warning look. "Neal, the law says that slaves have to wear a collar at all times."
"There are exceptions. Like if I'm at the hospital, or in the custody of law enforcement. You're an FBI agent, and we're in FBI headquarters. Doesn't that count? Just five minutes, Peter. And I won't ask again."
For a minute, Peter just ignored him, and Neal was prepared to accept that it was a lost cause. But then, Peter sighed and rolled his chair back. He dug his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the bottom desk drawer, the one Neal had tried to pick his way into last time.
"All right. Five minutes. But only because you were a big help today, and because no one else is around."
Neal beamed. He never imagined Peter would actually agree. He watched as Peter opened the drawer and pulled out a sturdy metal lockbox. He used another key to open that, and Neal saw that it held a collection of collar keys.
As he selected the right one, Peter said, "I know that thing's probably heavy. I wouldn't want to wear it either, but that's the law."
He got up and walked around to Neal. He pushed Neal's head forward, and Neal felt him tug at his collar. There was a small click, and the collar opened. After Peter took it off, he immediately locked it and set it on the desk.
"The sensor will send an alert if it's unlocked for too long," he said.
The lightness was strange. Neal hadn't realized how normal the collar had become. Truthfully, the collar didn't impede his movement too much. But nevertheless, having it off made him feel freer. Neal twisted his neck and rolled his head.
As he sat back down, Peter smiled at Neal. "Feel good?"
"Yeah."
"Hold onto that feeling. Think about how nice it'll be when you get that taken off for good."
It figured Peter would try to find a way to make this educational. At the moment, Neal didn't care. He reached over and picked up the collar, eager to look at the details that he couldn't see well in the mirror.
His slave number was engraved along the front. At the back, he saw the lock, which was barely more than a couple pinholes. The clasp was almost indistinguishable. He could make out the casing that concealed the GPS transmitter and the lock sensor.
Next, he studied the tag that Peter had affixed to the D-ring.
After a few minutes, Peter turned off his computer monitor and stood up.
"All right, Neal. Time to put it back on."
With a sigh, he handed the collar to Peter. Peter unlocked it, put it around Neal's neck, and then gave it a soft tug to make sure it was locked. He squeezed Neal's shoulders.
The metal had started to cool, and it chilled Neal's skin.
Peter put away the key and locked the metal box back in the desk.
"Okay," he said, "let's go home."
* * *
It was getting dark as they drove home. When they arrived, Elizabeth was making dinner.
She was stirring a pot on the stove. Peter wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck.
"Hey," she said, "how was work?"
"Good. Neal helped me close that fake gem case I was working on."
"That's wonderful!" She glanced at Neal and smiled.
Rubbing her back, Peter said, "How was your day?"
Elizabeth sighed. "I'm exhausted. I spent all afternoon scouting out wedding venues. And I still have work to do for the Singleman New Year's Eve Party."
"That's a shame. I thought maybe we could call it an early night, spend a little time together...."
Elizabeth gave him an apologetic smile. "I'd love to, but I don't know if I'd be good company tonight. Maybe later. And once Christmas and New Years are over, I'm all yours."
"I'll look forward to it."
While he listened to them, Neal grew uneasy. Peter was obviously in an amorous mood, and even if he would have preferred to spend some time with his wife, Neal was sure he wouldn't mind having sex with him, instead.
Sure enough, after dinner was over, Peter snuck up on Neal while he was clearing the table. Wrapping his arms around Neal's waist, he said, "Don't know about you, but my adrenaline's always pumping after a good day. How about we go upstairs?"
Neal was ready for this. He broke away from Peter's arms and carried the plates to the sink to rinse.
"Honestly, I'm beat. I was thinking of heading to bed after this."
"It's only seven."
Neal shrugged. "What can I say? It's been a long day."
It wasn't even a lie-Neal really did feel like he could go to sleep at any time.
Peter was silent for a moment, looking disappointed. Then he said, "That's no problem. I can use your ass, and you won't have to do anything. Just lie down, spread your legs, and take it easy until I'm done. Couldn't be easier."
"How efficient."
Peter patted him on the back. "C'mon. Finish up here and then go upstairs. We'll do it in your room."
Peter's tone told him there was no room for argument.
After he was done cleaning up, Neal went up to his room and got into his pajamas. Peter came in a few minutes later, carrying a bottle of lube.
"You ready?" Peter asked.
"Do I have a choice?"
Peter clicked his tongue. "C'mon, get your pants off. Do you want to do it on your hands and knees, or do you want to bend over the bed?"
Neal didn't see how it made any difference. Slowly, he took off his pajama bottoms and bent over the side of the bed. Peter came up behind him. He was still clothed, and Neal felt the fabric of his trousers against his skin. He put his hands on the insides of Neal's thighs and tried to pry them apart.
"Spread your legs."
Neal didn't budge. Peter gave him a light slap on the ass-more of a warning than a punishment-and Neal sighed and inched his feet apart.
He heard the clink of Peter's belt buckle and a soft rustling sound as Peter lowered his pants. A moment later, Peter pressed a cold, lubed finger into Neal's hole.
Neal folded his arms under his head. He was glad when the preparation was quick and efficient. Being fingered was one of the most intimate and humiliating acts that he had to endure. Even having Peter's cock up his ass was more distant and bearable, somehow.
When Peter pushed his cock inside, Neal's ass burned from the stretch. He instinctively clenched his muscles, and Peter gave him another slap on the ass.
"Loosen up. I thought you were tired."
"I am."
"Then relax."
Neal was tired. Not too tired to give Peter a hard time, but too tired to want to. Peter was just as relentless as he was, and Neal didn't feel like battling wits tonight.
So he forced his muscles to relax, and he closed his eyes. It wasn't exactly easy. Peter's cock may not have been much larger than average, but it felt huge inside him. His ass felt like it couldn't stretch any more. But Peter was right-he was tired, and that made it easier to relax.
Once Peter got into a rhythm, it was surprisingly easy to be lulled by the way Peter's thrusts rocked him back and forth.
He wondered what it would be like to do this in different circumstances. It wasn't that hard to see why some men enjoyed it. Hell, maybe someday he would ask Kate to do this with him. Maybe she could use a strap-on.
With that thought, his cock got a little harder.
And maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be fucked by a man who didn't own him. Neal wasn't attracted to men, but the idea of sex with one wasn't so foreign, anymore.
But this wasn't exactly like having sex. Peter didn't seem to know if he wanted to have sex with Neal the man or fuck Neal the sex slave. And Peter never let him forget who the master was.
Neal rested his cheek against the cool bed. The quilt felt nice. The next thing he knew, he was jolted back to awareness by Peter gripping his hips and grunting. When Peter pulled out a moment later, he patted Neal's back.
"Looked like you were dozing off, there."
Neal swallowed. "Just resting my eyes."
Peter stroked his hip. "I'm glad you're getting used to this."
Neal clenched his teeth. He was not "getting used to it."
Peter reached around and touched Neal's half-hard cock. "Didn't come this time?" He sounded disappointed. "If you want, I can-"
Neal pushed himself up on his elbows. "Like I said, I'm tired."
"Yeah, all right. I guess we'll let you rest now. I'm going to go hit the shower."
He gave Neal a gentle swat on the ass and left him. After a moment, Neal pulled up his pajama bottoms and crawled up onto the bed.
Chapter 17
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