Author's notes: To TerribleFish, who asked what world this was set in . . . it's entirely my own! Ok, maybe not totally my own - I may have borrowed a little something from here, a little something from there . . . but it's pretty safe to say that this is my own universe.
Falling in the Clutches of Circumstance (Part 2)
True to his word the slaver brought Daniel back out in record time. Martin noted that the regulation white underwear had been replaced by jeans and a white shirt and that the handcuffs were gone. He looked, Martin thought, even better now than he had before.
As the slaver made sure that the paperwork was in order, Martin noticed that Daniel was watching him with an amused look on his face. Martin quickly looked away, suddenly feeling uncomfortable, as if he had been caught peeping or doing something equally naughty.
When he was asked for his house code by the slaver a moment later, he gratefully supplied it, thankful for the distraction from Daniel and his laughing eyes. He watched as the man carefully programmed it into a small hand-held console.
"And what would you like the distance to be?" the slaver asked as he looked back up.
Martin glanced at the black collar around Daniel's neck. He hesitated, knowing that he should take into account that this man had assaulted his previous master. Yet at the same time he didn't like the thought of restricting him much more than he already would be. He finally settled on fifty yards.
"Fifty yards?" the slaver exclaimed. "That much? Sir, if I were you, I wouldn't give him five feet. This one's trouble. You literally gotta keep this one on a short leash or he'll take advantage."
Martin waited patiently until the man had finished. "I appreciate your concern, but I really think fifty's fine."
The slaver shook his head, clearly disapproving, but said nothing else. And while he continued to program his machine, Martin once again snuck a look at the collar. Once activated, Daniel would be able to go fifty yards outside of his house's perimeter without any worries. Should he go fifty-one yards however, the collar would automatically begin to tighten around his throat, constricting it until he got back into the safe zone or until it crushed his neck and throat.
Martin wasn't sure if he was giving the man too much freedom or not enough.
The slaver finished and looked up. "Fifty it is, sir. As I'm sure you know, it will activate once it hits your house's perimeter. Until then, you're on manual." He then reached inside his pocket and pulled out a small, black console, similar to the one he had just programmed. "Now to change the distance or deactivate it altogether . . . "
Martin interrupted him. "I'm aware of how to do it, thank you."
The slaver shrugged, handed him the console, then held his hand out. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you. Good luck."
Martin shook the proffered hand briskly and turned away, indicating to Daniel with a tilt of his head that they should leave.
They walked through the building, Martin leading the way, in silence, both of them giving their full attention to avoiding bumping into anyone.
Once outside in the parking lot, they threaded their way through the multitude of vehicles until Martin spotted his own.
"It's the black one over there," he said, pointing as he walked.
As soon as they reached it, Martin pulled the keys out of his pocket, preparing to unlock it. Daniel, however, stepped in front of him and held out his right hand. Martin looked down at it dumbly.
"Master?"
Martin looked back up. "What?"
"The car keys. So I can drive us home."
"Oh," Martin said, shaking his head. "No, I'll drive. That's fine."
Daniel looked genuinely puzzled. "But slaves usually do the driving, Master."
"No, I like to drive. Really." He unlocked the car and, opening the door, sat down in the driver's seat. Daniel followed a moment later, making himself comfortable in the passenger seat.
Martin turned toward Daniel; suddenly feeling nervous and excited and a bit giddy all at once. "Ready?" he asked.
"Ready when you are. Master."
Martin started the car and drove away, heading for his home on the very outskirts of the city.
As an uneasy silence began to stretch between them, Martin's initial excitement was replaced by a feeling of discomfort. Which was silly; he was the buyer . . . he was in his own car. Why should he feel uncomfortable?
Because . . . because it was up to him to figure out what to say to the man next to him, and he had never been good with things like this. Things had been so much easier with Jeffrey. Of course, Jeffrey hadn't been some kind of heroically-motivated impulse buy. He had thought things through with Jeffrey. He had made the logical purchase after making sure that Jeffrey was what he was looking for . . .
So focused was Martin on these thoughts that when Daniel spoke, it startled him enough to lose control of the steering wheel. He grabbed it quickly and righted the car, then took a moment to let his rapidly beating heart find its normal pace.
"What did you say?" he finally asked, pleased that he was only slightly breathless.
Daniel didn't appear to be the least bit bothered by their little brush with death. "I said . . . I should really thank you for saving me from that man in there," he answered calmly.
"You're welcome," Martin said automatically, just before he realized that Daniel hadn't actually thanked him. He blushed, hating himself for being so pale that it showed. Despite feeling foolish, he continued. "Although I wouldn't call what I did in there saving you."
"Oh, it was, believe me, Master. That threat of his? It wasn't an idle one."
"Well, you have to admit you were really pushing him by refusing to tell him your name."
Daniel nodded. "I know. I should have just answered. But there was something about him I just didn't like. Made me feel uncooperative."
"And what would that have been?"
Daniel flashed him a mischievous smile. "Just about everything, Master."
The laughter bubbled up and out of Martin before he could even think about it. He was pleasantly surprised to hear Daniel's laugh join his a second later.
They laughed together for a while, until it faded away naturally, then Martin cleared his throat and said, "You don't have to call me Master, you know."
Daniel looked at him, one eyebrow raised. "Would you prefer Sir? Or maybe Exalted One?"
Martin turned to Daniel and frowned. Not even two minutes ago they had been laughing together, and now Daniel was being sarcastic - sounding downright hostile. Before he could think of a way to respond, Daniel shook his head. "I'm sorry. My mouth. It gets me into trouble sometimes. I didn't mean that. I'm really sorry."
Martin glanced over at the other man, surprised again at the speed in which his manner changed. A minute ago he was sarcastic. Now he sounded nervous and frightened. "It's ok. Just . . . ummm . . . just call me Martin, ok?"
Daniel nodded, looking visibly relieved. "Martin," he said softly, as if trying it out. "Are there any exceptions to that, Martin?"
"What do you mean?"
"Do I call you Master in public? Or in front of certain people?"
"No . . . Martin is fine. All the time."
"Ok . . . Martin," Daniel said, sounding more than a little dubious.
Good. At least they had established one thing. Now they just had to talk about a hundred other things. Not the least of which was why Daniel had attacked his previous master.
Should he say something now or wait until they were home? Maybe home was better; they would both be more relaxed. Or maybe now was better; why put it off any longer?
Or maybe he shouldn't say anything at all?
No, of course he had to say something. He had to think of his safety, of Jeffrey's, of Sam's.
Once again, Martin found himself thinking how much easier things had been with Jeffrey.
He had invited trouble into his life, and for what reason? Some strange urge to be a gallant hero?
He shook his head. He was getting nowhere. He had to talk to Daniel about the assault; he might as well do it now.
No more putting it off.
He turned his head, face resolute, ready to initiate a potentially unpleasant conversation . . . only to see that Daniel had fallen asleep.
Almost an hour later Martin stopped the car and leaned over to give Daniel's shoulder a quick shake.
Daniel's eyes shot open instantly, his body stiffening in the seat. He looked around wildly, then visibly relaxed when he seemed to realize where he was. "Are we there?" he mumbled as his eyes drifted closed again.
"We're here. You ready?"
"Yeah, just let me . . . " Daniel let the sentence trail off as he rubbed at his eyes, obviously trying to get himself to wake up.
A minute later, they were both out of the car, and standing in the circular paved driveway in front of Martin's house.
"This is your house?" Daniel asked, his voice incredulous.
Martin nodded.
"This place is huge. It's a mansion."
"I wouldn't call it a mansion."
"No," said Daniel, pointing at the large white structure. "This is a mansion. You must be rich."
"It's mostly family money," Martin said tersely.
"Sensitive issue, huh?"
When Martin didn't answer, Daniel continued. "I get it. You don't want to talk about it. That's cool."
Martin tilted his head and looked at Daniel. The other man was enjoying himself. The little smirk was a dead give-away. "You ready to go inside?"
Daniel's smirk grew. "Yes, Martin."
Martin walked up to the front double doors, unlocked them, and threw them open. From somewhere behind him came a sharp intake of breath. Martin guessed that Daniel was impressed. And why wouldn't he be? The house was impressive. Everything from the marble floors in the foyer to the two grand staircases leading to the second story, was built to dazzle.
Martin led the way through the house, pointing things out as he walked. They passed through the great hall with its Grecian columns, the library with its floor to ceiling mahogany bookshelves, and the dining room with its two crystal and gold chandeliers.
By the time they got to the kitchen where Jeffrey was waiting for them, Martin was sure that Daniel's eyes were going to pop out of his head from all the staring he was doing.
He introduced the two men and explained to Daniel that he would be working with Jeffrey and would eventually take over for Jeffrey.
"Pleasure to meet you," Jeffrey said warmly as he shook Daniel's hand.
"Pleasure's mine, sir," Daniel answered.
Martin looked on; noting with relief that Daniel was treating Jeffrey with respect. That had to be a good sign.
Afterwards, they went to the second floor where all seven bedrooms were.
Martin showed Daniel where his master suite was, and then he walked him over to his room just three doors down.
Martin opened the door and stepped aside, leaving Daniel room to enter.
"This is my room?" Daniel asked in disbelief as he stood at the room's threshold.
Martin nodded, although Daniel couldn't see him. "I know it's a little bare, but we'll get it furnished in time."
"Do I share it with Jeffrey?"
Martin laughed. "Jeffrey's got his own room. You'll have to share the bathroom though. It's just across the hall."
"But . . . this is too much . . . it's too much for a.."
Although he didn't say it, Martin knew that the next word out of Daniel's mouth would have been slave. He shrugged, and tried to sound casual. "If you didn't use it, it would just gather dust."
"But it's too much. I mean . . . that's a queen size bed right?" Daniel asked.
"Yes, it is."
"And that dresser . . . "
"It's an antique. Been in the family for generations. Try not to scratch it."
Daniel shook his head. "I don't know what to say."
"Just enjoy it."
Daniel finally turned toward Martin, his brown eyes intently searching his own, although for what, Martin would never know.
"Go inside," Martin urged softly.
Daniel turned back toward the room and slowly placed one foot over the threshold.
Martin couldn't help but smile as he watched Daniel wander over to the bed and plop himself on it. Martin's smile only grew wider when Daniel began to bounce up and down on the mattress as if testing it for comfort. He reminded Martin of a little kid playing on his new "big boy" bed.
"You like it?"
Daniel abruptly stopped bouncing. "It's . . . amazing," he said sincerely. "Thank you."
"I'm glad."
For a brief moment they simply stared at each other; both caught in the sudden awkwardness of the moment.
Then Daniel slowly leaned back until he was resting on his elbows. "So . . . did you want to fuck me now or later?"
For a split second Martin forgot how to breathe, so shocked was he at the words that had come out of Daniel's mouth. "What?" he stammered.
Daniel looked up at him, the look on his face mildly seductive. "I said . . . "
Martin held out a hand to stop him from continuing. "I know what you said. But why would you think that I . . . "
"Because that's usually the first thing that slave owners do. Try out their new purchase."
Martin gaped at him for a moment, before he realized that he was gaping. He shut his mouth and shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling very uncomfortable with this new situation. Finally, he laughed self-consciously and asked, "Are you always this direct?"
Daniel smiled. "Yeah, I am."
"Look. I didn't buy you so that I could bed you. I have someone. I'm engaged."
Daniel straightened, all attempts at playful seduction gone. "In my experience, Martin, that doesn't mean a thing."
"So your past owners..." Martin began tentatively.
"Every single one of them liked to fuck me."
"That's a very ugly word, Daniel."
"Would you prefer the word rape? That's actually more accurate."
Martin nearly took a step back in surprise. The words had been said casually enough, but there had been a very dark undercurrent beneath them. He felt uncomfortable, and not at all ready to have this conversation.
"I...I bought you to work here. To take over for Jeffrey. That's all," he managed to say. The look on Daniel's face clearly told him that the other man didn't believe him. "I'm not going to lie. You are . . . attractive, but I have no interest in you . . . in that way."
Daniel stared at him, as if deciding whether or not Martin was lying. Finally, he nodded, his body relaxing until he was once again leaning back on his elbows. "If you say so, Martin."
"I do. Say so, that is."
"Ok."
Martin nodded, then turned to go, before he remembered there was one more thing they needed to discuss. He turned back toward Daniel and tried to steel himself for what he was about to say.
"I think we need to talk about what was in your description."
"What part, Martin?"
"The part that said you attacked your last master."
"All right. What about it?"
"Did you do it?"
Daniel straightened again. He nodded sharply. "I did."
"Why? What happened?"
"I put my hands around his throat and I squeezed."
Martin swallowed past the sudden lump in his own throat and forced himself to continue.
"But there must have been some reason for it. What led up to it?"
"I put my hands around his throat and squeezed. That's all. There was no lead-up. It happened. I'm sorry that it did. I won't ever do anything like that again, so you don't have to worry."
Martin looked down at Daniel, who was suddenly staring at his hands as if there was nothing else to look at. He knew there was more to the story. There had to be. Because if Daniel had really attacked his master without any provocation, then it meant that there was something seriously wrong with him. And that was something Martin wasn't ready to believe.
He decided not to push it. For now.
"Dinner's at seven," he said. "We usually eat in the alcove off the kitchen. Until then, your time is yours."
Daniel looked up and met his gaze. "All right."
Martin once again turned to go, but was stopped by Daniel's voice calling his name.
He turned. "Yes?"
"Thank you. For saving me from that man today." He paused, then added, "My golden prince."
Martin wasn't sure he had heard correctly. "Your what?"
"Golden prince. It's what you'd be called where I'm from. Like a knight in shining armor."
Martin managed a weak smile. "You're welcome," he said before leaving the room and quickly closing the door behind him.
As soon as he was alone, Danny flopped down on the bed, luxuriating in its softness. It was a million times better than the hard cots at the so-called "re-training" center. In fact it was better than anything he'd been made to sleep on since he'd been captured and brought into the west. As he stared up at the ceiling, he thought about his newest master. He wasn't quite sure what to make of him. He seemed like a nice enough guy. And he certainly seemed to believe that he didn't want to have sex with him. Of course Danny knew better. He had seen the desire in Martin's eyes. It was maybe not as obvious or pronounced as in some men, but it was there nonetheless.
He sighed, but it was mostly a contented sigh, brought about by the extreme comfort of the bed beneath him. He decided that he wouldn't pass judgement just yet; that he would wait and see what Martin's next move was. After all, it's not like he had a real choice in the matter.
And with that final thought, Danny closed his eyes and allowed himself to fall asleep.