Happiness (Boyxboy)

Happiness

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I didn't struggle loose. I often pondered what the point was in an action such as that. I wouldn't escape or break free, security would just beat me to keep me still if I had made any sudden movements.

The usual routine was in place. I had a blindfold covering my eyes so I couldn't see the faces of the buyers participating in the auction. I didn't have tape on my mouth like when I first came because I was too far bent into obedience.

They knew I wouldn't retaliate or scream like when I first arrived, I would often thrash against them but after a while the need for freedom ceased.

This was my life. Never ending silence that I loathed. I was to stand, nude of course, on a stage and wait for the numbers to be called. I never heard their voices. Only my Master's. I don't know her name, well, I don't know anyone's name. Not even my own. The one who I am forced to call master calls me pet, I am loyal to her. At least I have no other choice, I mean would you swear loyalty to a girl who beats you?

I make money for her. Then after I am used, bruised, and bloody, she cleans me, feeds me, and takes care of me like a human would a dog.

I'm not sure if I dislike my master enough to hit her like all the other slaves do their own masters. Constantly thrashing with a passion to escape. Not for me. It wouldn't feel right to hit a girl, especially one much smaller in comparison and one who is extremely petite. And it's not like I know who I am or where my family is.

Interrupting my thoughts a hand glides it's way lightly upon my back, fingertips barely skimming. "He is in top condition sir," she says proudly. I inhale, there are times when this master of mine makes me have confidence. Sometimes, I actually don't feel gross and anorexic looking.

"How much?" The buyer's voice is the only sound heard. I shiver, it being amused, a faint light in the inky darkness. I furrow my eyebrows together, remembering that I really don't have a say in the matter and never did.

"For how long, Sir?" My master asks, hesitantly I notice. He brushes his fingers across my cheek, eventually down to hold my chin in place gently and finally down to rest his fingertips on my shoulder. Eventually gliding down to my collarbones. I'm not sure if he is inspecting me or not, but truly, it doesn't feel like it. He seems to be toying with me, or specifically he seems to be provoking my master.

I am somewhat giddy about the matter at hand. Though it's a horrible situation, being sold and all, I'm trying to look on the bright side. Giddy because I have only heard my masters voice through the years. And honestly squeaky voices are really tiring me out, it's nice to hear a change. A sudden rupture in the tones. Hearing this stranger's voice makes me happy, happy to know there is another human being out there.

Instantly the squeaky voice comes back sharply, reminding me about those who rent me and how they're not considered human. Humane people wouldn't rent a person to rape, but then again what humane person would rent one out?

"Sir?" My master asks, I can hear the annoyance in her voice. She is becoming agitated. Impatience noticed by the tapping of her foot. I wonder sometimes if we had met in a different situation would we ever talk or even become acquaintances. She only ever allows me to touch her when having sex in her bedroom. I wish it wasn't that way honestly, if I'm throwing the cards on the table I really hate the way she feels, the way girls feel point blank.

                   Too delicate.

"For three days," he finally says, bored with my master. She grabs ahold of my wrist and pulls me to her, I know it's my master because of her nails, I've felt them before. Too familiar and too sharp. "Absolutely not," she lowers her tone, sounding weird because come on, squeaky voices aren't meant to drop.