Present Day
There were two things he knew after the infarction.
The first one was that he was always going to be in pain.
The second was that he would never walk normally again. He couldn't run, or play sports. The hard won freedom of his adulthood had been cut short by lameness and pain.
When he bought the motorcycle, it wasn't because he was self-destructive – despite what Wilson might say – it was because it gained him a little bit of his freedom back again. When he was on a motorcycle the speed, and the wind hitting his body, the smell of nature at the sides of the road, all those things made him feel free, and made him smile.
He had never thought that he could lose even more of what he had. Until he had been enslaved.
His first day at a Slave Administration Centre, his first day of processing, when they tattooed their sign on his face had made it clear that he was nothing now. Not a human being. Not any more. Now he was just a body – designed to be used. A body that could be fucked, or punished, or left to rot, at the whim of his owner. Free people could do whatever the hell they liked to him – and they often did. He didn't even have the freedom of his own mind, because even that had been taken from him. All he knew now was fear.
His father used to take him to see them, when he was a child and had done something wrong. 'Look at those slaves, Greg. Look at what they are. One day that will be you'. Then he'd take him home and put a collar around his neck while he punished him. So he knew what it would feel like.
It had been only a matter of time before the collar became real, and he became the slave his father had said he was. He knew that now.
He was shaking with reaction when he was taken out of the office. He was both thankful that Wilson had found him, and bought him, and fearful that Wilson had found him and bought him. Wilson's words had been chilling. House had treated Wilson like shit throughout their friendship, was this Wilson's chance to get revenge? He could legally do whatever he liked to House now. House had been sold to him.
Thomas took hold of one of his arms, half supporting him and half dragging him back to the slave quarters.
"Fucking useless slave, can't believe someone was actually stupid enough to buy you. Thought we'd be stuck for you forever." He let go of House's arm and pointed to the pile of clothes in the corner of the cell. "Put those back on and be quick about it. Don't want to keep the buyer waiting – he might come to his senses."
House quickly put the clothes back on, glad to be covered up again even if the clothes were stained and smelly. They were given fresh clothes once a week and the week was nearly over.
He was taken down a set of steps to the back door of the building where a van waited. He was roughly handcuffed and a hood was put over his head, cutting off both sight and most sound. Then he was grabbed bodily and half thrown face down into the back of the van onto the cold hard floor. He felt a chain being run from his handcuffs to a ring on the floor. Standard slave transport procedures.
He heard the muffled sound of the van door being slammed shut and Thomas taking a seat. Two heavy booted feet rested on the small of his back, keeping him in place throughout the short ride to the police station.
The handover at the police station happened quickly and efficiently. Wilson was taken to a small bare room, papers were signed and then House was brought out, a leash attached to his collar. He quickly knelt down next to the desk and bowed his head. Wilson noted with relief that he was at least clothed, even if it was in ill-fitting, stained, rags.
"Well Doctor Wilson, that's all done. You can take your slave with you now. Officers from the SAC will come to your home shortly to inspect it, and make sure it is well prepared to house a slave." He looked at House for the first time. "Stand up, slave."
House stood and looked at the police officer.
The officer frowned at him. "Bow your head. You have been a slave long enough to know that you don't look at people until they tell you to."
The message was clear, House was not 'people', the police officer was, Wilson was, House was not. He was just a slave.
House bowed his head but even that was not enough for the officer.
"I talked to you, slave. Acknowledge my order."
"Yes, sir. This slave is sorry, sir." House said quietly, his head still bowed submissively.
The officer was still frowning. He picked up a light cane that was lying on the desk and looked at Wilson. "With your permission, Doctor Wilson?" He said it with the air of expecting it to be granted. A mere formality - to gain permission from the owner before beating a slave.
Wilson stood frozen, realising what he was being asked. He wanted to scream a denial but he couldn't afford to raise suspicion.
He raised a hand carelessly. "Of course."
The blow landed on House's buttocks, making a whipping sound that cut through Wilson. House flinched but otherwise held position and didn't raise his head.
"You're making a poor first impression on your new owner, boy." The officer said, and delivered another quick blow before replacing the cane on the desk. "I can have him taken out back and taught a proper lesson if you like, Doctor Wilson. No harm in starting the way you intend to go on."
"No, no, that won't be necessary," Wilson said hastily. "I've got my own canes at home." He just wanted to get House out of here. He looked around for the walking cane that House had been using in the hotel bathroom but didn't see it.
"No, he just came like that. They don't normally send them with any accessories," the officer answered when Wilson asked about it.
Okay, so that was the first thing he'd have to buy when they got out of here.
"Do you have a leash for him?" The officer said, holding out his hand.
"No. What would I need a leash for? He's not exactly going to run off, he can barely walk without a cane."
"Well, you know you can't walk him out in public without one." The officer sighed and rummaged around in a drawer, coming up with something that looked like a dog leash. "You can use this one; just drop it back into the station when you're done with it."
Wilson took the leash gingerly and the officer looked up at a clock on the wall. "I've got to go, can you see yourself out?"
Wilson nodded numbly and then the officer shook his hand and left.
Wilson and House stared at each other, alone for the first time.
"House, I…" Wilson's voice was shaking.
"Put the fucking leash on my collar so we can get out of here," House said, his voice quiet but desperate.
"I... I can't," Wilson said, his voice just as quiet, sounding more like the slave than House did.
"You have to, it's the law. Don't be an idiot, you have to treat me like a slave or this isn't going to work. I don't want to get the crap whipped out of me because you don't know how to treat a slave." He rubbed at his ass where the cane had cut across it. "I've had more than enough whippings in the last two years..."
"I..." Wilson said and House grabbed the leash out of his hand. He clipped it into one of the d-rings of his collar and then handed the other end to Wilson. "Come on, it's just like walking a dog. Woof!" He looked at Wilson and Wilson could see the fear in his eyes. House was scared. He wasn't safe here.
Wilson made himself grasp the leash and he walked towards the door, feeling House following behind him at the end of the leash. He walked slowly, at House's pace, and tried to forget that he was walking his best friend as if he was a dog.
Wilson felt that all his eyes were upon them as they walked out but nobody stopped them and when they emerged out into the sunlight and open air he breathed a sigh of relief. He felt House freeze behind him and turned to see his friend staring around him.
"The car is this way," Wilson gestured, and House covered up the moment with his usual snark which lifted Wilson's heart to hear.
"You couldn't have parked closer? Cripple, here."
When they finally reached the car Wilson opened the front passenger door and House shook his head.
"I go in the back," he said, opening that door and getting in. "You can take the leash off but you're supposed to put a hood on me. Have you got one?"
Wilson shook his head. "No, I didn't stock up on bondage equipment, House! You're not really my slave. I don't need any of that stuff." He was beginning to realise though that he hadn't thought all this through. He'd only wanted to rescue House; he'd given little consideration to what came next.
"There's a piece of paper that says you do, and your name is on the tag on my collar. You're responsible and if you fuck up I'm the one getting whipped and thrown back in the pound. This isn't 'let's pretend', Wilson."
"Forgive me for trying to rescue you." Wilson went round to the other side of the car and got in the driver's seat - slamming the door shut.
House winced at the noise and the anger in Wilson's voice. He immediately softened his tone. "I'm sorry, Wilson. I just... you can't stuff this up okay? For either of us."
Wilson could count on one hand the number of times House had said sorry to him over the years. When he looked in the driver's mirror he could see his friend sitting there, a heavy collar around his neck, hair cropped back to his skull and a slave tattoo on his cheek. He looked scared.
"Tell me what I need to do," he said. "To keep you safe."
"Get us out of here to start with, and then," he heard House swallow heavily. "You need to buy some equipment."
The slave supplies warehouse was tucked discreetly down an alley in a dingy part of Princeton. Wilson clipped House's leash back on his collar, this time without an argument, and led him into the building. As soon as they crossed the threshold he saw House's demeanour change. His head dropped and he put his hands behind his back and stood demurely by Wilson's side.
A sales assistant came over to them.
"What can I help with you today, sir?" She addressed Wilson, her eyes flicking over House as if assessing him. "Maybe a new collar for your slave? Or some cuffs? "
"I've just bought him - I need everything I guess? The SAC is going to come out and inspect my premises... "
The woman nodded confidently, obviously pleased with the prospect of a large sale. "Of course, sir. Your first slave?"
Wilson blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. House would have rolled his eyes at his obvious flirting if he wasn't playing the part of the dutiful slave.
"Yes, I'm sorry - I'm a bit inexperienced."
"I can help you with that. First, you need a hood. You shouldn't be transporting him without one." She led the way to a display rack of black hoods. "Head up, slave."
House lifted his head and she selected a hood and dropped it over him. There was a small air hole but otherwise it covered his whole head.
"That will do for transport. Easy to put on and take off. You can attach it to his collar with a chain if he needs it often." She demonstrated. "We have other models with gags and devices that will remove all sensory input if you would like to see them?"
"Er... no, that will do for now. What else?"
She left the hood on House and fetched a set of cuffs and chains. "These are our own model. Strong enough to hold any slave. You can restrain him in a variety of positions using them. Take him over to that holding post and I'll show you."
In the middle of the store was a large steel post with ringbolts set in it. With House hooded Wilson had no choice but to lead him on the leash over to it. Once there the assistant cuffed his hands behind him and ran a chain from them to the post. Bending to his ankles she put a hobble chain in between them.
"As you can see they clip on and off easily. They also lock of course." She demonstrated. "There is also a chain to connect ankles and wrists. Although as your slave is lame that might impede him too much if you need him to walk." She frowned at House. "Close confinement is good punishment though. Slaves hate it. Talking of punishment what do you have?"
"What do I have?"
"Paddles? Crops? Whips?"
"I really don't think I'll be needing anything like that."
"You'll need something. You can't keep a slave without some way to discipline them. Even if your slave is well behaved it pays to give them a touch up now and then to remind them of what they are. The SAC inspectors will want to see that you have some disciplinary tools. We'll get you our basic start-up kit, it's good for beginners." She fetched a colourful plastic pack and removed the wrapping. "Two paddles - one with holes, a crop, a flogger and a small whip. You'll want to invest in some more whips when you're more experienced. They take a bit of skill to use but they are the most effective. Would you like me to demonstrate?"
House was still chained and hooded but Wilson could see him tense.
"No, that won't be necessary. Is that all?"
"Those are the basics. Have you got bedding and food for him? We have a jumbo sized pack of Slave Chow - it provides the slave with all essential nutrients. You should have some on hand for the inspection."
Wilson reluctantly purchased a large container of the chow. There was a picture on the front of a happy slave consuming the contents using only his hands. It looked like nothing more than dog food to him. He certainly didn't intend for House to eat it.
"You should look into getting a cage - it keeps the slave well confined. We have some nice fold-a-way models if you're short on space." She waved a hand to one wall where they were assembled. They appeared to be about the size of large dog kennels.
"I have a bed for him." Wilson said flatly. Surely she wasn't expecting a man of House's height to sleep in one of those tiny cages?
She frowned. "Most people advise against letting slaves use furniture. It sets a bad precedent."
Wilson needed to get out of there, right now. "I think it will be okay. Can you ring up my purchases?"
"Yes, sir. Do you require any sexual aids for him? We have a large range of dildos and cock cages as well as more exotic tools."
Wilson blushed. "No, thanks. I'm not... he's not... "
She nodded. "I understand sir, but even if you're not that way inclined you can rent him out to others. It's one way of earning some money back from your purchase."
Wilson just wanted to get out of there. He was aware of House still standing chained in the middle of the store, listening to every word of their conversation.
"Maybe another time. This will do for now."
The woman looked disappointed but nodded and removed the chains and hood from House, giving him a caressing pat to his genitals as she did so. House stared at the floor, not even reacting to her touch. She laughed.
"He's well trained anyway."
"If you could just ring me up," Wilson said, trying to get her to hurry – and move away from House. This whole thing was making him feel dirty, tainted.
She bundled up the purchases and relieved Wilson of some more of his money. Giving the bags of equipment to House to hold she wished Wilson a good day and gave him a customer loyalty card. "We hope you'll consider us for all your future needs."
They left the store in silence. House on the end of the leash. Back in the car Wilson fingered the hood.
"I'm sorry, House."
House looked away. "Just do it, Wilson. I'm a slave. I'm used to it."
Wilson slipped the hood over his friend's head and they drove back to his apartment in silence.