Fic: The Devil You Know (19/25)
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: 3800 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.
It only took a month of studying for Neal to convince Peter and Elizabeth that he was ready to take the GED.
The state held testing days just for slaves. A GED was an inexpensive way of both increasing a slave's value and making a token effort at rehabilitation, so a lot of owners signed their slaves up if they didn't already have their high school diplomas.
Neal wasn't worried about the test. The anticipation came after, while he waited for his promised reward. Peter refused to even discuss it until after the test results came in, which Neal had to concede made sense.
When the results finally came in the mail, Peter just grinned, slapped Neal on the back, and said, "Good job, Neal! I think this calls for a celebration at Donatella's tonight."
It wasn't that Neal was ungrateful-he rarely got to eat dinner out, so it was a welcome treat. But he wanted his bank account. And no matter how he tried to hint, Peter would just brush him off.
Finally, after a couple weeks, Elizabeth came to him while he was cleaning the shower.
"Neal, you mind taking a break and coming downstairs? Peter and I have something for you."
She was smiling, so Neal allowed himself to be hopeful.
Downstairs, he joined them at the dining room table. Once he sat down, Peter handed him a shiny new debit card.
Neal grinned as he looked at it. It had his slave ID number and his name on it, as well as Peter and Elizabeth's names.
Peter gave him a smile, but when his expression turned serious, Neal knew exactly what he was in for.
"There are conditions."
Neal sighed. "Of course there are."
"We'll start out giving you an allowance of five dollars a week. If you keep behaving yourself, we'll up it to ten at the end of the month. You can't use this card to get cash out, and you won't have access to your account. But you can use the card to make purchases. If you buy anything over fifty dollars, the bank will call me or Elizabeth immediately to confirm that it's okay. You can't make any purchases over a hundred dollars. Elizabeth and I will be able to see all your activity, so don't buy anything you don't want us to know about."
"I get it, Peter. I won't go out and buy contraband with my five dollar allowance."
"Good."
The rules did dampen Neal's excitement, however. Twenty dollars a month wouldn't pay for many art supplies. Forty dollars wasn't much better. And he could forget about keeping his paints stocked up and buying himself some decent clothes. He would have to prioritize.
Elizabeth must have predicted this, because she smiled and said, "And don't worry-we don't expect you to pay for everything with your allowance. We'll still get you things sometimes, as a reward or present. The allowance is just to give you a little more independence and responsibility."
That was a little better. If he could convince them to buy him paints occasionally, he could manage the rest with the money they gave him.
And it was exciting to hold the card in his hand, and see his name on it. Even if it came with restrictions.
"Do I get to hang onto this?" he asked.
"For now," Peter said. "But if you don't use it responsibly-"
"You'll take it away. I know." Something occurred to him. "It'd be nice to have a wallet to carry it in."
Peter's lips twitched into a smile. "We'll see about getting you one."
* * *
January passed quickly. It wasn't difficult to figure out why-Neal was spending much more time out of the house these days, accompanying Peter and Elizabeth to work.
He missed some of the old solitude he'd had, and it was still a struggle to find time to complete his chores. But at least he didn't feel so boxed in. When he was out with the Burkes, he could almost fool himself into believing he was free at times, particularly when Elizabeth took him with her to scout out venues. When Neal was in his element, people listened to him. They saw him as more than just a servant and sex toy.
At the FBI headquarters, Neal was allowed to stop wearing the tag on his collar. The work was still dull for the most part. Peter continued to set him up in the boardroom with stacks of unsolved cases to go through. But even if mortgage fraud was bad, it was still more stimulating than scrubbing the kitchen floor.
One day in early February, the three of them were home and Elizabeth was going through the mail. "Oh, Neal," she said. "I can't believe it's been six months already."
Neal, who was cleaning out the refrigerator, looked up. Elizabeth was looking at a letter.
"What is it?" he asked.
"You're due for your first inspection this month."
Neal's eyes widened. "Inspection?"
Peter was sitting at the table, looking at the paper. Without glancing up, he said, "All slaves have to have inspections. First one is six months after being purchased by a new owner. After that, it's annual."
Neal remembered being examined at the processing center, and by the insurance appraiser. He'd hoped he was past all that.
"Is this really necessary?" he asked. "What if you guys vouch for me?"
"It's just a physical," Elizabeth said, giving him a reassuring smile. "It's for your own good-the doctor will make sure you're healthy and that you're not being mistreated."
That sounded better. The Burkes had taken Neal to the doctor for a physical after they bought him, and it had been painless enough.
And he liked the thought that slave inspections were intended to hold owners accountable. It was nice to think that he'd have some recourse if he was abused.
The following week, Elizabeth took him to the doctor.
It was the same one he'd seen just after the Burkes purchased him. Neal was glad-last time, the man had been gentle with him.
The nurse who ushered him into the exam room instructed him to strip. No gown was offered. Such measures of privacy were considered unnecessary for slaves.
The nurse recorded Neal's vitals, drew blood, and gave him a cup for a urine sample. She turned away while he filled it, but it was a small mercy. Neal closed his eyes and tried to pretend he wasn't doing this in the middle of the exam room.
Finally, the nurse left him alone to wait. Neal sat on the edge of the exam table. The paper crinkled underneath him.
He recognized Dr. Morris when he came in with the nurse a few minutes later. He was a tall, large man with a round pink face and thinning blond hair.
"So, it's been six months already. How are you adjusting?"
"Great," Neal said. "In fact, I'll save you some time: I'm not being abused. My owners don't hurt me, and I get plenty of food and water."
Dr. Morris smiled. Looking at the chart he was holding, he said, "Speaking of food, I see you've gained five pounds since the last time you were here. That's good. I told your mistress you could stand to put on a few pounds." He set the chart down on the counter and looked at Neal. "Don't worry-this isn't the type of inspection you can pass or fail. And as long as they're not mistreating you, your owners won't fail it, either. The inspection is partly to make sure you're being treated okay, but it's also just a report on your health. There's no penalty for being honest."
Neal didn't want to take that for granted, but he returned the smile. "Good to know. But I feel okay."
Dr. Morris put on his stethoscope and pressed the cold disk against Neal's chest. "Nothing concerning you?"
"No. My health's been good."
"Do you get much exercise? Slaves can be cooped up a lot."
"I go running sometimes when the weather's good." An idea occurred to him, and he added, "Though, I wouldn't mind going to a gym sometime. I like swimming."
If he understood things correctly, Dr. Morris would be making recommendations. Neal might as well try to get some things he wanted out of this.
Dr. Morris moved around to Neal's back. He asked Neal to cough, and listened to his lungs.
"Do you have sex with your owners?"
Neal had expected to be grilled about his life, but the question was still unpleasant. "I do."
"Anyone else?"
"They're not big on sharing."
"What about someone they don't know about?" the doctor asked gently.
"No one."
"Well, even so, we'll need to do some tests, and a rectal exam. It's standard."
The genital exam that followed was no more undignified than anything he'd experienced in the past. At least this man was a doctor, and not a slave trainer or appraiser. But when the nurse produced a swab, Neal tensed.
"Is that really necessary?" he asked. "You didn't do this last time."
"Because you'd been tested already at the processing center. Relax-it'll be quick and you'll hardly feel it."
Neal watched while the doctor inserted the long, thin swab into his dick. He winced and sucked in his breath. It stung.
He wondered if this was standard for all slaves, or just for the ones sold for sex.
It seemed to take forever. Neal sat frozen, afraid to move even a muscle while the thing was inside his dick. When it was finally done, Dr. Morris gave him a sympathetic smile.
"I know it's uncomfortable, but better safe than sorry. You did well."
The one good thing about the penile swab was that the rectal exam was mild by comparison. Neal lay on his side while Dr. Morris probed him.
Finally, he heard the doctor take off his gloves.
Neal was allowed to sit up. He answered more questions about his lifestyle while Dr. Morris jotted down his responses.
Finally, the doctor said, "All right, Neal, I think we're done here. We'll have to run tests, of course, but everything looks fine. And it sounds you're adjusting well. You can get dressed and go out in the waiting room. I'll just speak to your mistress for a minute."
Later, when Neal and Elizabeth were in the car, he asked, "What did the doctor say to you?"
After Neal came out, Elizabeth had gone in to speak to the doctor alone.
"He said you appear to be in great shape. Of course, he'll have to wait for the test results before the inspection is complete, but the exam went as well as it could have."
"I didn't expect them to be so...thorough." Neal involuntarily placed his hands over his lap. A year seemed too soon to have another swab inside his dick.
"They have to be, honey. Especially for companion slaves."
Companion slave-the polite, technical term for a sex slave. At least Neal didn't have to worry much about safety. The Burkes showed no interest in sharing him with others.
Once, when Neal had been working for Adler about a month, he was invited to a cocktail party at Adler's house. It'd been an honor to be included so quickly. But Adler's world was still foreign to him, then, and Neal hadn't known what to think when he realized that one of Adler's slaves, a man not much older than Neal, was holed up in the study, sucking off some of the guests. Adler's friends treated it like a professional bonding ritual, like playing racquetball. Neal didn't see what happened, but apparently a guest who'd had too much to drink got rough, and the slave retreated to the kitchen as soon as possible.
It was tough enough being a sex slave for one or two people. Even people like the Burkes, who never got drunk or lost their tempers.
Thinking about this put Neal in an unhappy reverie, and it didn't lift until they arrived at the caterer where Elizabeth had an appointment for a tasting.
Neal had been excited for this all day. It had almost been enough to ease his nerves over the inspection.
He thought that was why Elizabeth was bringing him along. It was a reward.
Inside, Elizabeth greeted the owner and said, "This is my slave, Neal. I thought he could help me, if you don't mind."
The other woman smiled warmly at Neal. "Of course."
No one in Elizabeth's business seemed surprised by Neal. He supposed that between the commonness of slave servers and personal assistants like Naomi, most people in the event planning industry were used to interacting with slaves.
He and Elizabeth spent the next hour tasting caviar and French cheeses. He certainly couldn't criticize Elizabeth's taste in rewards.
* * *
"I'm starting to think I should be jealous," Peter said.
Elizabeth moaned. "Of him, or me?"
"Both of you, I think."
While they talked, Neal had his face buried between Elizabeth's legs. He spread her open with his thumbs and licked the soft, pink folds of skin. He licked his way up to her clit, and a large swipe with his tongue made Elizabeth moan again. It was a muffled sound, and Neal knew without being able to see that she and Peter were kissing.
The three of them were naked in the master bedroom. If Neal moved his eyes to the left, he could see Peter's hard cock. If he strained them upward, he could see Peter's hand caressing one of Elizabeth's breasts.
It was a quiet Saturday. After the rush of Christmas and New Year's, Elizabeth finally had a weekend off. Often, on days like today, Peter and Elizabeth preferred to be alone. Today, they'd cajoled Neal into the bedroom with them. After his inspection the previous week, they'd given his dick a few days to recover from the testing he'd been subjected to. Today was making up for lost time.
Neal kept circling his tongue around Elizabeth's clit, and, quickly, she gasped and cried out against Peter's mouth. As her orgasm passed, Neal pulled back.
Sitting up, Elizabeth put her palm on Neal's cheek and gently steered his head over to Peter's cock. Neal opened his mouth to accept it.
He could taste the pre-come on the tip of Peter's cock. While he diligently sucked, Elizabeth rubbed his back.
Abruptly, Peter pushed Neal up. Breathless, he said, "No more. I have something I want to try."
Elizabeth kissed Peter on the cheek. "I'll be right back, Hon. I want to get cleaned up."
Peter gave her a peck on the lips. "All right."
As she got up and headed out into the hall, Peter got the bottle of lube out of the nightstand drawer. He guided Neal onto his stomach.
Neal spread his legs without being told. He'd half-expected this. A blow job was fine most days, but Peter had been making use of his ass more and more. Neal's hard cock was trapped under his stomach, and he squirmed a bit, trying to find a comfortable position.
He stilled when Peter pushed a lubed finger into his hole. Peter did it too quickly and hit a painful angle, and Neal winced.
"You know, it feels better when you do it slowly. And curl your finger more."
Peter froze. Then he did what Neal suggested, and started to work his finger in and out at a slow, gentle pace.
"You've been practicing, haven't you?" Peter said. Neal couldn't see his face, but he could hear his smirk.
"What makes you say that?"
"Oh, come on. You've never told me what you like before. I like this new twist. Have you been using the plugs?"
"Why? Do you want to gloat?"
Peter chuckled. "I knew you'd like the plugs if you gave them a chance. I mean it, though-this is good. I like hearing what turns you on."
Neal didn't argue with him, because what Peter was doing with his finger right now really did feel good. Why shouldn't he get something out of this arrangement? He didn't know if the pleasure was worth his pride, but he hadn't done such a great job of hanging onto his pride, anyway.
If he could train Peter to make the sex more to his liking, then perhaps serving his time wouldn't be so bad. If he couldn't avoid this, he could make it better.
After a few minutes of preparation, Neal expected to feel Peter's weight on his back. He expected the harsh stretch of Peter's cock entering him. But instead, Peter lay down on his back beside Neal. He squirted some lube on his palm and started to slick up his cock.
Confused, Neal lifted his head. "Why are you lying down?"
"I want you to ride me."
Neal pushed himself up to his knees. "So, now you want me to do all the work?"
"Yep. C'mon-hop on."
Neal looked at Peter's cock and tried to decide how to proceed. What Peter was asking for was simple in theory, but the execution was more difficult. Neal wasn't sure how to get the cock in his ass.
He straddled Peter's hips, and he could feel the tip of Peter's cock grazing his buttocks. He reached back blindly and felt around until he grasped the hard shaft. Gently, he guided it to where he thought his asshole was, and, very slowly, started to lower himself down.
The tip of the cock jabbed him in the perineum, and he shot back up to adjust. The second time he went down, it pressed against his hole. He didn't want to press down any more. It was one thing to lie on his back or stomach while Peter put it in him. It was another to do it to himself, and contend with his nerves. He was loath to admit it, but there were benefits to letting Peter have control.
But it had to be done. He pressed down as much as he dared, and the head of Peter's cock went inside him.
Peter gave him an approving smile. "There. That's good."
Peter put his hands on Neal's hips, smearing lube on this skin. But Neal had lube on his own hand from guiding Peter's cock, so he would just have to put up with it.
Neal supported himself on trembling knees. If he lifted up, the cock would fall out of his ass. But he didn't dare lower himself any further. He didn't know if he would be able to handle the length of Peter's cock if he fully seated himself on it.
"Now," Peter said, "when you're ready, just start moving up and down. You're going to have to fuck yourself on my dick."
Neal carefully lowered himself down an inch and then rose back up. It was easier than he'd expected. He leaned forward and did it again, more quickly.
"That's it," Peter said.
Neal put his hands on Peter's stomach, giving himself a little more leverage. "I thought I was supposed to like getting my ass fucked because I didn't have to do anything."
"Now that you're used to it, we can challenge you a little more. You like a challenge."
Neal started a slow rhythm. He discovered that it wasn't too difficult if he kept his knees and arms in place and moved his hips up and down like a piston.
Peter squeezed his hip. "You're going to have to go faster."
Neal gave him a dirty look. "I thought I was the one doing the work."
"Yeah, and I'm still the boss."
Picking up the pace was more difficult. Bouncing up and down wasn't the most natural movement. Especially not like this. He shot up too far, and Peter's dick fell out of his hole. Neal reached back and gingerly pushed it back in place, trying-and failing-to avoid touching the part that had been inside him.
But when Neal got into the swing of things, he realized this position had some benefits. He got to control the angle and depth of penetration, and the strength of the thrusts.
"You know," Neal said, trying to keep his breath, "my birthday's coming up soon."
"Your real birthday?"
Neal nodded.
"And I suppose you deserve lots of presents, huh?"
Neal grinned. "I work hard. I think I deserve something."
Peter narrowed his eyes. "Show me how hard you can work."
By now, Neal's body was covered in a light sheen of sweat. His hands slipped on Peter's stomach, and limp, damp hair hung over his eyes.
He barely noticed when the door opened, but he heard the sound of Elizabeth's bare feet on the wood floor. She walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down. Neal didn't look at her, but out of the corner of his eye he could see that she'd put on a short satin robe.
"Mm," she said. "I'm glad I came back to see this."
Neal glanced at her and saw her eyeing him. Her eyes moved up and down the length of his body. It looked like she liked the sight, even though Neal felt ridiculous. He couldn’t imagine how he looked, bouncing up and down on Peter's dick with his own hard cock slapping against his stomach. Sex always looked ridiculous. Though, if anyone could make it look good, Neal knew he could.
Neal was reaching the brink of orgasm more quickly than he'd expected. There was no way to stop it without slowing his pace, and his effort to do that was met with a slap on the ass from Peter. Oh well. If Peter didn't want him to slow down, he couldn't complain about it when Neal came on him. Neal let himself go. He threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, he saw that a few squirts of come had landed on Peter's stomach.
Grunting, Peter said, "Don't stop now. I'm close."
Neal realized that his tempo had slowed. He wanted to stop-he was tired, and being fucked didn't feel as good after an orgasm. Now that he'd come, Neal was aware of the burn in his thigh muscles, and the soreness in his ass from the friction (he thought he could use a little more lube, but he wasn't going to stop now to reapply it).
But he could tell from the strained look on Peter's face that he was close. Neal was exhausted, and he felt like curling up for a post-coital nap. But he mustered up the energy to pick up the pace.
A minute later, his efforts were rewarded when Peter came. His come mixed with the traces of Neal's.
Neal gingerly pulled himself off of Peter's cock, and then collapsed on the bed. Elizabeth was immediately at his side, brushing his sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes and kissing him on the cheek.
"That was a great performance," she said.
Peter was wiping the come off his stomach with a tissue. He paused and looked at Neal. "Yeah, Neal. That wasn't bad at all."
Neal didn't know if he should feel insulted by their approval, or proud of himself.
Chapter 20
This entry was originally posted at http://citrinesunset.dreamwidth.org/116569.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: 3800 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.
It only took a month of studying for Neal to convince Peter and Elizabeth that he was ready to take the GED.
The state held testing days just for slaves. A GED was an inexpensive way of both increasing a slave's value and making a token effort at rehabilitation, so a lot of owners signed their slaves up if they didn't already have their high school diplomas.
Neal wasn't worried about the test. The anticipation came after, while he waited for his promised reward. Peter refused to even discuss it until after the test results came in, which Neal had to concede made sense.
When the results finally came in the mail, Peter just grinned, slapped Neal on the back, and said, "Good job, Neal! I think this calls for a celebration at Donatella's tonight."
It wasn't that Neal was ungrateful-he rarely got to eat dinner out, so it was a welcome treat. But he wanted his bank account. And no matter how he tried to hint, Peter would just brush him off.
Finally, after a couple weeks, Elizabeth came to him while he was cleaning the shower.
"Neal, you mind taking a break and coming downstairs? Peter and I have something for you."
She was smiling, so Neal allowed himself to be hopeful.
Downstairs, he joined them at the dining room table. Once he sat down, Peter handed him a shiny new debit card.
Neal grinned as he looked at it. It had his slave ID number and his name on it, as well as Peter and Elizabeth's names.
Peter gave him a smile, but when his expression turned serious, Neal knew exactly what he was in for.
"There are conditions."
Neal sighed. "Of course there are."
"We'll start out giving you an allowance of five dollars a week. If you keep behaving yourself, we'll up it to ten at the end of the month. You can't use this card to get cash out, and you won't have access to your account. But you can use the card to make purchases. If you buy anything over fifty dollars, the bank will call me or Elizabeth immediately to confirm that it's okay. You can't make any purchases over a hundred dollars. Elizabeth and I will be able to see all your activity, so don't buy anything you don't want us to know about."
"I get it, Peter. I won't go out and buy contraband with my five dollar allowance."
"Good."
The rules did dampen Neal's excitement, however. Twenty dollars a month wouldn't pay for many art supplies. Forty dollars wasn't much better. And he could forget about keeping his paints stocked up and buying himself some decent clothes. He would have to prioritize.
Elizabeth must have predicted this, because she smiled and said, "And don't worry-we don't expect you to pay for everything with your allowance. We'll still get you things sometimes, as a reward or present. The allowance is just to give you a little more independence and responsibility."
That was a little better. If he could convince them to buy him paints occasionally, he could manage the rest with the money they gave him.
And it was exciting to hold the card in his hand, and see his name on it. Even if it came with restrictions.
"Do I get to hang onto this?" he asked.
"For now," Peter said. "But if you don't use it responsibly-"
"You'll take it away. I know." Something occurred to him. "It'd be nice to have a wallet to carry it in."
Peter's lips twitched into a smile. "We'll see about getting you one."
* * *
January passed quickly. It wasn't difficult to figure out why-Neal was spending much more time out of the house these days, accompanying Peter and Elizabeth to work.
He missed some of the old solitude he'd had, and it was still a struggle to find time to complete his chores. But at least he didn't feel so boxed in. When he was out with the Burkes, he could almost fool himself into believing he was free at times, particularly when Elizabeth took him with her to scout out venues. When Neal was in his element, people listened to him. They saw him as more than just a servant and sex toy.
At the FBI headquarters, Neal was allowed to stop wearing the tag on his collar. The work was still dull for the most part. Peter continued to set him up in the boardroom with stacks of unsolved cases to go through. But even if mortgage fraud was bad, it was still more stimulating than scrubbing the kitchen floor.
One day in early February, the three of them were home and Elizabeth was going through the mail. "Oh, Neal," she said. "I can't believe it's been six months already."
Neal, who was cleaning out the refrigerator, looked up. Elizabeth was looking at a letter.
"What is it?" he asked.
"You're due for your first inspection this month."
Neal's eyes widened. "Inspection?"
Peter was sitting at the table, looking at the paper. Without glancing up, he said, "All slaves have to have inspections. First one is six months after being purchased by a new owner. After that, it's annual."
Neal remembered being examined at the processing center, and by the insurance appraiser. He'd hoped he was past all that.
"Is this really necessary?" he asked. "What if you guys vouch for me?"
"It's just a physical," Elizabeth said, giving him a reassuring smile. "It's for your own good-the doctor will make sure you're healthy and that you're not being mistreated."
That sounded better. The Burkes had taken Neal to the doctor for a physical after they bought him, and it had been painless enough.
And he liked the thought that slave inspections were intended to hold owners accountable. It was nice to think that he'd have some recourse if he was abused.
The following week, Elizabeth took him to the doctor.
It was the same one he'd seen just after the Burkes purchased him. Neal was glad-last time, the man had been gentle with him.
The nurse who ushered him into the exam room instructed him to strip. No gown was offered. Such measures of privacy were considered unnecessary for slaves.
The nurse recorded Neal's vitals, drew blood, and gave him a cup for a urine sample. She turned away while he filled it, but it was a small mercy. Neal closed his eyes and tried to pretend he wasn't doing this in the middle of the exam room.
Finally, the nurse left him alone to wait. Neal sat on the edge of the exam table. The paper crinkled underneath him.
He recognized Dr. Morris when he came in with the nurse a few minutes later. He was a tall, large man with a round pink face and thinning blond hair.
"So, it's been six months already. How are you adjusting?"
"Great," Neal said. "In fact, I'll save you some time: I'm not being abused. My owners don't hurt me, and I get plenty of food and water."
Dr. Morris smiled. Looking at the chart he was holding, he said, "Speaking of food, I see you've gained five pounds since the last time you were here. That's good. I told your mistress you could stand to put on a few pounds." He set the chart down on the counter and looked at Neal. "Don't worry-this isn't the type of inspection you can pass or fail. And as long as they're not mistreating you, your owners won't fail it, either. The inspection is partly to make sure you're being treated okay, but it's also just a report on your health. There's no penalty for being honest."
Neal didn't want to take that for granted, but he returned the smile. "Good to know. But I feel okay."
Dr. Morris put on his stethoscope and pressed the cold disk against Neal's chest. "Nothing concerning you?"
"No. My health's been good."
"Do you get much exercise? Slaves can be cooped up a lot."
"I go running sometimes when the weather's good." An idea occurred to him, and he added, "Though, I wouldn't mind going to a gym sometime. I like swimming."
If he understood things correctly, Dr. Morris would be making recommendations. Neal might as well try to get some things he wanted out of this.
Dr. Morris moved around to Neal's back. He asked Neal to cough, and listened to his lungs.
"Do you have sex with your owners?"
Neal had expected to be grilled about his life, but the question was still unpleasant. "I do."
"Anyone else?"
"They're not big on sharing."
"What about someone they don't know about?" the doctor asked gently.
"No one."
"Well, even so, we'll need to do some tests, and a rectal exam. It's standard."
The genital exam that followed was no more undignified than anything he'd experienced in the past. At least this man was a doctor, and not a slave trainer or appraiser. But when the nurse produced a swab, Neal tensed.
"Is that really necessary?" he asked. "You didn't do this last time."
"Because you'd been tested already at the processing center. Relax-it'll be quick and you'll hardly feel it."
Neal watched while the doctor inserted the long, thin swab into his dick. He winced and sucked in his breath. It stung.
He wondered if this was standard for all slaves, or just for the ones sold for sex.
It seemed to take forever. Neal sat frozen, afraid to move even a muscle while the thing was inside his dick. When it was finally done, Dr. Morris gave him a sympathetic smile.
"I know it's uncomfortable, but better safe than sorry. You did well."
The one good thing about the penile swab was that the rectal exam was mild by comparison. Neal lay on his side while Dr. Morris probed him.
Finally, he heard the doctor take off his gloves.
Neal was allowed to sit up. He answered more questions about his lifestyle while Dr. Morris jotted down his responses.
Finally, the doctor said, "All right, Neal, I think we're done here. We'll have to run tests, of course, but everything looks fine. And it sounds you're adjusting well. You can get dressed and go out in the waiting room. I'll just speak to your mistress for a minute."
Later, when Neal and Elizabeth were in the car, he asked, "What did the doctor say to you?"
After Neal came out, Elizabeth had gone in to speak to the doctor alone.
"He said you appear to be in great shape. Of course, he'll have to wait for the test results before the inspection is complete, but the exam went as well as it could have."
"I didn't expect them to be so...thorough." Neal involuntarily placed his hands over his lap. A year seemed too soon to have another swab inside his dick.
"They have to be, honey. Especially for companion slaves."
Companion slave-the polite, technical term for a sex slave. At least Neal didn't have to worry much about safety. The Burkes showed no interest in sharing him with others.
Once, when Neal had been working for Adler about a month, he was invited to a cocktail party at Adler's house. It'd been an honor to be included so quickly. But Adler's world was still foreign to him, then, and Neal hadn't known what to think when he realized that one of Adler's slaves, a man not much older than Neal, was holed up in the study, sucking off some of the guests. Adler's friends treated it like a professional bonding ritual, like playing racquetball. Neal didn't see what happened, but apparently a guest who'd had too much to drink got rough, and the slave retreated to the kitchen as soon as possible.
It was tough enough being a sex slave for one or two people. Even people like the Burkes, who never got drunk or lost their tempers.
Thinking about this put Neal in an unhappy reverie, and it didn't lift until they arrived at the caterer where Elizabeth had an appointment for a tasting.
Neal had been excited for this all day. It had almost been enough to ease his nerves over the inspection.
He thought that was why Elizabeth was bringing him along. It was a reward.
Inside, Elizabeth greeted the owner and said, "This is my slave, Neal. I thought he could help me, if you don't mind."
The other woman smiled warmly at Neal. "Of course."
No one in Elizabeth's business seemed surprised by Neal. He supposed that between the commonness of slave servers and personal assistants like Naomi, most people in the event planning industry were used to interacting with slaves.
He and Elizabeth spent the next hour tasting caviar and French cheeses. He certainly couldn't criticize Elizabeth's taste in rewards.
* * *
"I'm starting to think I should be jealous," Peter said.
Elizabeth moaned. "Of him, or me?"
"Both of you, I think."
While they talked, Neal had his face buried between Elizabeth's legs. He spread her open with his thumbs and licked the soft, pink folds of skin. He licked his way up to her clit, and a large swipe with his tongue made Elizabeth moan again. It was a muffled sound, and Neal knew without being able to see that she and Peter were kissing.
The three of them were naked in the master bedroom. If Neal moved his eyes to the left, he could see Peter's hard cock. If he strained them upward, he could see Peter's hand caressing one of Elizabeth's breasts.
It was a quiet Saturday. After the rush of Christmas and New Year's, Elizabeth finally had a weekend off. Often, on days like today, Peter and Elizabeth preferred to be alone. Today, they'd cajoled Neal into the bedroom with them. After his inspection the previous week, they'd given his dick a few days to recover from the testing he'd been subjected to. Today was making up for lost time.
Neal kept circling his tongue around Elizabeth's clit, and, quickly, she gasped and cried out against Peter's mouth. As her orgasm passed, Neal pulled back.
Sitting up, Elizabeth put her palm on Neal's cheek and gently steered his head over to Peter's cock. Neal opened his mouth to accept it.
He could taste the pre-come on the tip of Peter's cock. While he diligently sucked, Elizabeth rubbed his back.
Abruptly, Peter pushed Neal up. Breathless, he said, "No more. I have something I want to try."
Elizabeth kissed Peter on the cheek. "I'll be right back, Hon. I want to get cleaned up."
Peter gave her a peck on the lips. "All right."
As she got up and headed out into the hall, Peter got the bottle of lube out of the nightstand drawer. He guided Neal onto his stomach.
Neal spread his legs without being told. He'd half-expected this. A blow job was fine most days, but Peter had been making use of his ass more and more. Neal's hard cock was trapped under his stomach, and he squirmed a bit, trying to find a comfortable position.
He stilled when Peter pushed a lubed finger into his hole. Peter did it too quickly and hit a painful angle, and Neal winced.
"You know, it feels better when you do it slowly. And curl your finger more."
Peter froze. Then he did what Neal suggested, and started to work his finger in and out at a slow, gentle pace.
"You've been practicing, haven't you?" Peter said. Neal couldn't see his face, but he could hear his smirk.
"What makes you say that?"
"Oh, come on. You've never told me what you like before. I like this new twist. Have you been using the plugs?"
"Why? Do you want to gloat?"
Peter chuckled. "I knew you'd like the plugs if you gave them a chance. I mean it, though-this is good. I like hearing what turns you on."
Neal didn't argue with him, because what Peter was doing with his finger right now really did feel good. Why shouldn't he get something out of this arrangement? He didn't know if the pleasure was worth his pride, but he hadn't done such a great job of hanging onto his pride, anyway.
If he could train Peter to make the sex more to his liking, then perhaps serving his time wouldn't be so bad. If he couldn't avoid this, he could make it better.
After a few minutes of preparation, Neal expected to feel Peter's weight on his back. He expected the harsh stretch of Peter's cock entering him. But instead, Peter lay down on his back beside Neal. He squirted some lube on his palm and started to slick up his cock.
Confused, Neal lifted his head. "Why are you lying down?"
"I want you to ride me."
Neal pushed himself up to his knees. "So, now you want me to do all the work?"
"Yep. C'mon-hop on."
Neal looked at Peter's cock and tried to decide how to proceed. What Peter was asking for was simple in theory, but the execution was more difficult. Neal wasn't sure how to get the cock in his ass.
He straddled Peter's hips, and he could feel the tip of Peter's cock grazing his buttocks. He reached back blindly and felt around until he grasped the hard shaft. Gently, he guided it to where he thought his asshole was, and, very slowly, started to lower himself down.
The tip of the cock jabbed him in the perineum, and he shot back up to adjust. The second time he went down, it pressed against his hole. He didn't want to press down any more. It was one thing to lie on his back or stomach while Peter put it in him. It was another to do it to himself, and contend with his nerves. He was loath to admit it, but there were benefits to letting Peter have control.
But it had to be done. He pressed down as much as he dared, and the head of Peter's cock went inside him.
Peter gave him an approving smile. "There. That's good."
Peter put his hands on Neal's hips, smearing lube on this skin. But Neal had lube on his own hand from guiding Peter's cock, so he would just have to put up with it.
Neal supported himself on trembling knees. If he lifted up, the cock would fall out of his ass. But he didn't dare lower himself any further. He didn't know if he would be able to handle the length of Peter's cock if he fully seated himself on it.
"Now," Peter said, "when you're ready, just start moving up and down. You're going to have to fuck yourself on my dick."
Neal carefully lowered himself down an inch and then rose back up. It was easier than he'd expected. He leaned forward and did it again, more quickly.
"That's it," Peter said.
Neal put his hands on Peter's stomach, giving himself a little more leverage. "I thought I was supposed to like getting my ass fucked because I didn't have to do anything."
"Now that you're used to it, we can challenge you a little more. You like a challenge."
Neal started a slow rhythm. He discovered that it wasn't too difficult if he kept his knees and arms in place and moved his hips up and down like a piston.
Peter squeezed his hip. "You're going to have to go faster."
Neal gave him a dirty look. "I thought I was the one doing the work."
"Yeah, and I'm still the boss."
Picking up the pace was more difficult. Bouncing up and down wasn't the most natural movement. Especially not like this. He shot up too far, and Peter's dick fell out of his hole. Neal reached back and gingerly pushed it back in place, trying-and failing-to avoid touching the part that had been inside him.
But when Neal got into the swing of things, he realized this position had some benefits. He got to control the angle and depth of penetration, and the strength of the thrusts.
"You know," Neal said, trying to keep his breath, "my birthday's coming up soon."
"Your real birthday?"
Neal nodded.
"And I suppose you deserve lots of presents, huh?"
Neal grinned. "I work hard. I think I deserve something."
Peter narrowed his eyes. "Show me how hard you can work."
By now, Neal's body was covered in a light sheen of sweat. His hands slipped on Peter's stomach, and limp, damp hair hung over his eyes.
He barely noticed when the door opened, but he heard the sound of Elizabeth's bare feet on the wood floor. She walked around to the other side of the bed and sat down. Neal didn't look at her, but out of the corner of his eye he could see that she'd put on a short satin robe.
"Mm," she said. "I'm glad I came back to see this."
Neal glanced at her and saw her eyeing him. Her eyes moved up and down the length of his body. It looked like she liked the sight, even though Neal felt ridiculous. He couldn’t imagine how he looked, bouncing up and down on Peter's dick with his own hard cock slapping against his stomach. Sex always looked ridiculous. Though, if anyone could make it look good, Neal knew he could.
Neal was reaching the brink of orgasm more quickly than he'd expected. There was no way to stop it without slowing his pace, and his effort to do that was met with a slap on the ass from Peter. Oh well. If Peter didn't want him to slow down, he couldn't complain about it when Neal came on him. Neal let himself go. He threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, he saw that a few squirts of come had landed on Peter's stomach.
Grunting, Peter said, "Don't stop now. I'm close."
Neal realized that his tempo had slowed. He wanted to stop-he was tired, and being fucked didn't feel as good after an orgasm. Now that he'd come, Neal was aware of the burn in his thigh muscles, and the soreness in his ass from the friction (he thought he could use a little more lube, but he wasn't going to stop now to reapply it).
But he could tell from the strained look on Peter's face that he was close. Neal was exhausted, and he felt like curling up for a post-coital nap. But he mustered up the energy to pick up the pace.
A minute later, his efforts were rewarded when Peter came. His come mixed with the traces of Neal's.
Neal gingerly pulled himself off of Peter's cock, and then collapsed on the bed. Elizabeth was immediately at his side, brushing his sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes and kissing him on the cheek.
"That was a great performance," she said.
Peter was wiping the come off his stomach with a tissue. He paused and looked at Neal. "Yeah, Neal. That wasn't bad at all."
Neal didn't know if he should feel insulted by their approval, or proud of himself.
Chapter 20
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