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Chapter 13 - PC Musings.
The sound of the clunky old elevator rumbling loudly woke the boy who had been dozing in front of the computer. He really wasn’t all that interested in watching porn - he’d been inundated with hours of the same, fed to him in the guise of ‘training’ by his Handler, and therefore was rarely turned on by it anymore - but he’d been ordered to do it by his new Master, so he’d tried it. Not unexpectedly, though, he’d fallen asleep after not more than fifteen minutes.
Jiggling the mouse so the computer screen lit up, he noted that it was almost two am. No wonder his neck was so stiff. He’d been sleeping here on this chair for more than four hours. The couch would have been more comfortable . . .
He heard the Master’s voice out on the landing along with another voice answering. That gave him pause. He wasn’t even that comfortable with Brian yet. The thought of some stranger coming into the loft this late at night wasn’t at all reassuring. Strangers were inherently dangerous. They were unknowns. He already had too many unknowns in his life and really didn’t need more. But, it wasn’t like he’d get any say in the matter anyway, so what difference did it make how many strangers the Master brought home.
When the door slid open and some huge, dark-haired, brute of a man literally fell through the entry onto the floor, the boy froze in place. He was so terrified by the very sight of this loud, unexpected intruder, that he felt paralyzed. Only the appearance of Brian, stumbling in right behind the frightening stranger, kept him from running and trying to hide. He wasn’t yet convinced that he could actually trust the new Master, but at least he was a familiar face and that was somewhat comforting. Add to that the fact that he’d been so well conditioned to respond to whatever master owned him, and the boy found himself rooted in place, waiting to be told what he could or should do.
Even more disconcerting, he could tell almost from the start that Brian was pretty much wasted. That wasn’t at all reassuring. Drunk men were unpredictable. The Master had promised him that first night that he wouldn’t make the boy do anything that he didn’t want to do, but you couldn’t believe that kind of promise. He’d been betrayed so many times - by people that he should have been able to trust - that he no longer believed anyone. Not when it really counted. All he could really hope for was that he wouldn’t be too badly hurt when everything finally did go to hell. But the uncertainty about when it would happen was the hardest part.
The boy knew that a situation like this, where the Master was drunk and there was a stranger thrown into the mix, was a recipe for disaster. But he was scared of the consequences of running away even more. His experience so far had proven that you would be hurt worse if you tried to escape your fate. It was better to just get it over with most of the time. So, even though he was terrified, the boy stayed where he was, hoping against hope that the two men wouldn’t see him or, if they did, they wouldn’t bother to include him in whatever they had planned.
Of course he wasn’t that lucky. He’d never been lucky. Why should now be any different? First, the Master noticed him. Then the other man suggested that he be included in their play. The boy felt his heart sink. This was it. This was going to be the moment when it all fell apart. And there was nothing he could do about it. He tried not to make it worse by disobeying, but it was difficult because all he could think of was that he couldn’t do this thing. He couldn’t. It would kill him. And there wasn’t a fucking thing he, a bought and paid-for Personal Companion, could do about it.
So he obeyed the Master’s orders and brought him more alcohol and then fetched the condoms and lube as requested. And then he waited. Knowing that he had no control whatsoever over what was going to happen. No say at all in anything - not his life and especially not what happened to his body. It was all up to the vagaries of fate and the whims of this half-drunk man that he’d known for only three days who, because he had money and the law on his side, was allowed to command everything in the boy’s terrifying world.
Which was why, when the Master said, “that’s all I needed, Justin. You don’t have to stay or anything if you don’t want to,” he didn’t understand at first. He thought he must have heard wrong. The boy didn’t trust that he would be let off the hook once again. That just didn’t make any sense. He’d been told time and time again by his Handler that his only value was in the sexual pleasure he could give his owner - that was the only reason anyone would buy his contract. But if this Brian didn’t want him for sex - at least not right then and, if he could be believed, not ever unless the boy wanted it too - then what did he want? Why was he doing all this. Why had Brian pledged all that money to purchase his contract? This was all just so confusing and unsettling.
And because he didn’t understand it, and didn’t trust that it was true, the boy simply stayed put even after the Master dismissed him. It was like staring at a train wreck - he felt he just couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t look away. He had to stay and watch and wait. He was so sure that, in the end, he would be betrayed yet again, that nothing around him seemed real. Maybe it really was all just a dream. Maybe he would snap out of it at any minute and his reality - the reality that he expected, where he was just a sex toy that had been purchased for the benefit of the highest bidder and who was about to have his life violently torn to shreds - would finally fall upon him. Frankly, it would almost be a relief for it to happen already. Because once the worst had happened, at least then he wouldn’t have to live in fear of it for any longer.
So the boy stayed and watched everything that transpired with an odd sense of disconnection. He watched the Master fucking the stranger. He listened to the grunting and moaning. He watched the Master’s face and noted the way the man let himself become submerged in the pleasure of the moment. He was aware when both men reached their climaxes, the smell of sex pervading the air as they rode through the resulting spasms of their release. And, in some cordoned off area of his brain, he registered that the stranger seemed to really enjoy what Brian was doing to him. But the boy was simply too closed off and fearful to understand any of it. He could only be an observer for the time being. He would have to wait to process it all later.
When it was over, he continued to stare as Brian pulled out, slapped the trick on the ass one more time for posterity, stripped the used condom and flung it haphazardly across the room, and then declared that he had to piss. Beam bottle in hand, the man tottered off towards the bathroom, leaving the trick on the couch and the mutely staring boy where he’d been standing watching for the duration. The trick flopped over, lolling on the couch cushions, chuckling to himself quietly as he decadently played in the mess of cum on his stomach with one finger.
“So, did you like the show, little boy?” the stranger asked, his voice low and deep, humming in a way that anyone else would probably think was seductive, but that the boy found menacing. “The way you were staring the whole time, it seemed like you were really into it. You sure you only like to watch? I wouldn’t mind letting you play with us on the next round. How about it, huh?”
The boy looked over to the bathroom but the Master wasn’t anywhere in sight. When he turned back to the trick, the man was playing with himself, stroking his long, thin dick, using his own cum as lube, and leering at the dithering boy. That knot of tension that had only barely ebbed, began to build again in the boy’s gut.
“Come on, Pretty Boy. It’ll be fun.” The trick licked his lips as if preparing to take a big juicy bite out of the demure blond boy. “Kinney’s a great fuck, but I always enjoy mixing it up.” The boy shook his head and started to back away, but the big stranger seemed prepared to press his suit. Before he’d taken more than three steps the trick was up on his feet too and following after the retreating boy. “I’d make it really good for you, you know. You’d love it.” The words sounded more like threats than an inducement.
He finally broke and ran, although he already knew it was futile. He only made it as far as the kitchen island before the larger man was on him, pinning him to the counter with one large meaty hand on each side of his body, preventing him from fleeing further. The boy cringed as far back from the heavily muscled frame crowding in on him as possible. He’d half-turned, bending almost sideways to try and prevent those threateningly large hands from touching him, but it was no use. He was trapped like a rat in a cage. And before he could do anything, the big meaty paws were on him, touching him, pulling at his clothing, reaching up under the hem of his shirt and crawling along over his bare skin. The trick’s honeyed words assaulting his ears at the same time as his body was pressing against the boy’s smaller frame.
“Come on, Sweetness. Don’t be like that. I know you want it,” the imploring and yet combative words kept hammering at him until he was bent and twisted over the edge of the island, tying his best to shrink away from the onslaught.
Which is when the worst thing possible happened.
The brute pawing at him paused. Then he reached up with his enormous left hand, pulled back the neck of the t-shirt the boy had been wearing, and scanned the back of his neck. Of course, the boy knew exactly what he would see there. He’d taken the bandage off his neck just that afternoon, figuring that the tattoo had finally healed enough that he didn’t need it anymore. Only, now, he desperately wished he’d waited one more day to remove that convenient covering.
“Fuck! Kinney got himself a PC? I hadn’t heard anything about that. Way to go, Kinney! This night is just getting better and better,” the jubilant trick crowed as soon as he saw the tell-tale tat. “I can’t WAIT to try you out, little boy. The things I’ve heard about PCs . . . This is going to be so fucking good!”
“What the FUCK do you think you’re doing!” An angry voice rang out so loud that it echoed off the high ceilings of the loft. “Get your fucking meat paws off him.”
“You didn’t tell me he was a PC! I am so totally psyched about this, you wouldn’t believe. I’ve always dreamed of trying out a PC. Listen, how about, for the next round we spit him in the middle . . .”
“Fuck you, Asshole! Can’t you tell from the way the kid’s trying to claw his way through my solid marble countertops that he’s not fucking interested in anything to do with you? And I didn’t give you permission to touch him, so get the fuck away right, fucking, NOW!” the Master demanded, grabbing hold of one hamhock-sized meat paw and yanking the bigger man around so hard that the guy almost toppled over. “Now get the fuck out of here before I call the cops on you, which is my right as his owner.”
“Hey, back the fuck off, Kinney. I figured you wouldn’t mind. I mean, you’re the one who told your PC to watch us before. I just assumed, after that, you’d want to have him join us for the next round. Isn’t that the only reason you’d have a PC? Sex IS all they’re good for, right?” the guy shook off Brian’s hands, and stood his ground.
“No, you moron. That’s not ‘all they’re good for’! In case you didn’t notice, he may be a PC but he also happens to be a fucking human being. He’s not a damn sex toy. Or are you blind as well as stupid?” the Master moved around so that his body was physically blocking the trick, who was now sputtering indignantly. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. As I recall, I instructed Justin to watch if he wanted to. I said nothing about him joining in, and I sure as shit didn’t say anything about you touching or even talking to him. Just because he’s a PC doesn’t mean that just anyone has the right to take liberties with him. Especially not without my permission. So, are you going to leave quietly or should I call the police and file a formal complaint?”
“Fuck you, Kinney!” the big trick spat.
“Not even in your wildest dreams, asswipe,” the Master hissed back at him, crowding the guy backwards, further and further from the kitchen island. “Now, you have exactly sixty seconds to pick up your fucking clothes and get the hell out. And don’t let the door hit you on the ass on your way.”
The boy watched in silence as the Master hounded the man till he had his clothing in hand and then led him to the door without even giving the guy time to dress. Brian didn’t even wait till the big oaf was all the way clear of the entryway before sliding the door closed, clipping the trick’s shoulder in the process, but since the door was heavy and metal, that little obstacle didn’t even slow it down much. The Master slammed it against the jamb and immediately flipped the lock.
And then he turned back and looked at the boy. “Fuck! Stupid fucking loser. You okay?”
The boy didn’t know what to say, even if he had been willing to break his silence and say it.
“Stupid question. Of course you're not. Fucking pushy trick . . . Ignorant bigot . . .” The grumbling and cursing went on for a bit, as the Master paced angrily around the loft, picking up the forgotten bottle of Beam from the coffee table on the second circuit, and using the strategically placed swigs of bourbon that followed to emphasize certain points in his rant. Eventually, though, the ranting petered out and the pacing turned into more of a drunken shambling. When the conversation devolved into a broken repetition of, “you . . . You don't deserve this shit, J. Nobody deserves this shit. Fucking shit. Fucking stupid shit . . .” the boy knew it was pretty much over.
Interrupting the next circuit of shuffling curses at the point when the Master was closest to the bedroom steps, it was fairly easy to detour the tired man up the three steps and then into the bed. He grabbed the almost empty bottle out of the falling man’s hands just before the heavy body hit the bed. The Master didn't put up any fight at all as the boy lifted the covers, rolled him over and tucked him in. Brian was snoring long before the lights had been switched off, and was totally dead to the world when the youngster shed his own clothes and climbed into bed next to his Master.
Which is why the boy felt brave enough to scoot up close to the snoring body, drape one arm across the broad expanse, lay his head on the sturdy chest and whisper “Thank you, Brian,” before leaving a barely there kiss on the closest patch of bare skin he could reach.
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Brian reluctantly woke up to the unfortunately familiar feeling that his head had been involved in a Chernobyl-grade meltdown the past night. He really did have to quit doing this to himself. Especially on work days. At least this time he’d pretty much stuck to just whiskey, which he usually tolerated relatively well, so his stomach wasn’t too queasy. But his head . . .
While he was contemplating what he’d have to do to make it out of bed without his brain leaking out through his ears, Brian felt the mattress shifting and a warm body easing up behind him. He’d woken up lying on his stomach but with his left leg hitched up so that he wasn’t completely flat. The position allowed plenty of room between his thighs for a warm leg to insinuate itself, wrapping around his extended right leg. Brian didn’t mind the pleasant warmth at his back at all, and wasn’t really that eager to move, so he remained where he was, not letting on that he was awake. Little by little, his bed mate inched closer until the smaller frame was pressed all along its length against Brian’s right side.
After another minute or two, he felt a tentative hand reaching over and gently resting, ever so lightly, against the skin of his upper back. Brian kept himself still, concentrating on making his breathing as steady and deep as possible so as not to give away the fact that he was actually awake. He didn’t want to scare off the boy’s intrepid explorations. When the hand moved gingerly up to play in the small hairs at the nape of his neck, he had to fight not to shiver at the way it was tickling. Luckily, the hair play didn’t last very long. After another few seconds, the hand began to trail downwards, leaving feather-light tracings of touch along his skin, down his spine, across one shoulder blade, following the length of his lats until it paused just above the rise of his left butt cheek.
Brian assumed that was as far as things would go. Justin was so hesitant about everything. Even this much initiative was surprising. He didn't think the kid would dare anything more.
Apparently he was wrong, though. Either the boy was emboldened by the mistaken belief that Brian was still asleep or maybe he simply couldn't help himself. But, either way, the next moment saw that inquisitive hand slowly gliding lower and lower, almost as if it had a mind of its own, until Brian felt the gently questing fingers curling over the rise of his glute, squeezing almost imperceptibly, while one brazen pinky just barely brushed at the entrance to Brian’s crack. And there the hand paused, not letting go, but not moving either. Just holding on as if testing out the possibility of more.
Brian didn't know what to think. He tried not to react in any way, sure that even the tiniest of movements would cause the hand to retract. At the same time he was insanely turned on by the careful, tentative, barely-there touches, intrigued by this covert display of boldness, and surprisingly aroused by that brave little pinky finger straying so close to the one place he never let anyone venture.
If that had been the extent of it, though, he probably would have chalked it up to nothing more than a random caress. Maybe just the first hesitant stirrings of affection from the repressed boy. Just a sleepy, friendly gesture engendered by their necessary closeness while sharing a bed. Not something meant to be intentionally sexual in nature. However, the next thing Brian knew, the titillation caused by that roving hand was multiplied exponentially by the sensation of a growing hardness blooming in the meager space between the boy's groin and the spot where it was pressed up against the back of his right hip. He could feel the heat of the solid length stirring against his flesh, a cooler drop of wetness at the tip, as the boy very delicately rocked his hips so very slightly that you almost couldn't detect the motion. But that tiny movement was amplified by the heavy panting breaths ghosting across the skin of Brian's shoulder and the infinitesimal squeezing of that hand still cupped around his ass.
Nope - this was not just an innocent little touch.
Not that Brian minded in the least that he was being fondled and dry humped while he was, presumably, still asleep. Actually he was strangely proud of the boy. Not to mention incredibly turned on by the entire experience. However, his own rapidly filling dick was uncomfortably trapped under his belly, held in place at the odd angle it had been in when he'd been asleep and flaccid. He couldn't move to release it without startling the boy, which would undoubtedly cause the kid’s tiny moment of bliss to come to a crashing halt. So he simply tried his best to bear the discomfort, keeping himself still and letting the boy have his moment of stolen fun.
Despite his resolve to continue playing possum, though, something in Brian's posture - maybe some small twitch of a muscle or a hitch in his breathing as he tried to swallow the pain caused by his cramped dick - must have eventually given him away. One minute the boy was happily frotting away and the next his entire body tensed up, the hand on Brian’s ass was retracted and you could feel him holding his breath. Brian didn’t know if he should continue with his play acting or if it was already too late.
When he felt the boner pressed into his hip start to deflate, he decided to act. He quickly extended his left leg and, in the same motion, rolled in the same direction, flipping over all the way onto his left side so that he ended up facing the now-shocked PC boy. Before the kid could back away, though, Brian encircled the smaller frame with his long arms and pulled the trembling body as close to him as possible. Justin was apparently too shocked at having been caught to do anything other than stare and shake with fear.
Brian hated that the kid so clearly thought he’d done something wrong and seemed to be preparing himself for punishment because of it. He hated the terror-stricken look in the boy’s eyes when he looked up at Brian. He didn’t want to ever be the cause of that kind of embarrassment, fear, and panic. The abuse this young man must have been subjected to in order to cause him to repress his natural sexual impulses so shamefully, had to have been something horrible. Somehow, Brian had to give this oppressed youth back some self-confidence.
Cinching his arms even more tightly around the petrified young man, Brian bent his head into the crook of the boy’s shoulder, wrapped one leg around a quivering thigh and then just held on tightly. It took a long time for the trembling in the smaller body to abate. Even then, Brian didn’t let go. Eventually, the teen stilled, only his faster than normal breathing giving away the fact that he was still unsure about what was going to happen. Only then did Brian relent a little and loosen his grip just a fraction. Just enough so that he could move his hips, tilting them upward so that the boy could feel the still-strong erection that Brian pressed into his belly, rubbing it against the boy’s own flagging member.
“It’s okay, Justin,” Brian whispered into the tender skin along the side of the PC’s neck. “I don’t mind at all. I liked it. And,” he added a small kiss to the soft flesh, “it’s okay for you to let yourself feel these things.” Another kiss found it’s way, a little higher up the column of the long, pale neck. “To let yourself feel . . .” Another kiss, just under the jawline. “. . . Attracted to someone. To want to feel like this.” Brian tilted his pelvis higher, pressing harder against the yielding stomach muscles, pleased to feel that the boy’s erection now matched his own. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re in charge here, Justin. You get to make the calls. What YOU want and WHEN you want it . . . Here, with me, for now, you’re in control. And you don’t have to be scared of me or afraid of what you want . . . Okay?”
For the space of a dozen heartbeats, the gemstone blue eyes remained locked on Brian’s own hazel gaze. Brian felt like those eyes were drilling into the depths of his psyche, searching for hidden meanings and concealed untruths. It was completely out of character for the normally taciturn man, but he forced himself to open up completely for those few seconds. He needed this poor abused boy to understand that he wasn’t trying to trick him. He wanted Justin to be able to trust him. Implicitly. And the only way he could think to make that happen was to be scrupulously open, honest, and to let the younger man know that he DID have some say over his life. Even if it was just in this one small thing.
Justin must have believed whatever he saw. There was a flash of surprised acceptance in those penetrating blue depths. And then, totally unexpectedly, the boy lunged forward, seizing Brian’s lips in a passionate kiss that astonished them both. Brian happily returned the kiss, opening to the boldly probing tongue that daringly pressed its advantage, but allowing the younger man to guide the experience. Letting Justin be in control. Until, just before breathing would have become a serious concern, the youth pulled back, looked up into Brian’s eyes with a bashful smile and then buried his head into the pillow as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just done.
Brian huffed a quiet chuckle, kissed the boy’s temple one last time and then rolled away. “Like I said, you get to call the shots.” Unearthing his left arm from under the boy’s body, Brian shook his head at the craziness of his morning already. “But . . . as fun as lying here in bed playing ‘Kiss Me/Don’t Kiss Me’ is, I think I need to get up and start getting ready for work. Those account signing bonuses aren’t going to drop into my lap without me even being there, you know.” Brian swung his feet over the side of the bed and slowly stretched until he was standing. Then, turning towards the bathroom, he left his bed mate with one last offer, “you’re welcome to join me in the shower, if you’d like. Even if you just want to watch again . . .” And he headed off in the direction his painfully hard and unsated erection pointed.