SPOILER CW: This chapter is mostly slave flashbacks, including body modification (5 years ago) and non-explicit threats of rape (2 years ago).

(6 years ago)

Shawn held the wrapped package behind his back as he bounced on his toes. He was ready; this was his year to win. He'd laid down the evidence, he'd 'accidentally' let some information slip, he'd intentionally made the gift look last-minute. He was finally going to fool his dad, and victory would be so sweet.

His dad walked into the room and narrowed his eyes, staring Shawn down like they were about to start a western showdown. Shawn matched the look, lifting his chin confidently. He'd dug through the trash for a month to check for receipts, he'd dug through his dad's closet and under his bed, he'd found two decoy presents and one small piece of evidence his dad had forgotten about. He was going to win.

They both revealed their presents at the same time and his dad smirked at the shoddy wrapping job. "Well now, that looks very arts and crafts-y."

Shawn ducked his head; he had to look like he'd been found out but was trying to hide it. "You'll never guess it."

His dad raised a challenging eyebrow before handing over a small, perfectly wrapped box. Shawn took it as he handed his gift over for his dad to inspect. They both shook their presents and listened carefully, weighing them in their hands and looking at them from all angles. Shawn fought to hide his triumph; it was exactly what he'd thought.

"Well, at least I can't feel the macaroni noodles this year," his dad said with a sharp grin.

"This is my year, old man."

"Look at you getting cocky. I've won every year up to now."

Shawn gave his dad his best sharp grin back. "And every year I've gotten smarter while you've just gotten older."

"I could whoop your ass with one hand tied behind my back," his dad shot back as they both positioned their gifts over their open stockings.

"You'd have to catch me first." They both dropped their gifts in at the same time.

(5 years ago)

There wasn't any winning, but he still had to try. The door to freedom was just across the room; it was the only thing that mattered. Shawn sprung forward, twisting away from the hand that was reaching for him. He hadn't been outside in months, he could do it. He could see the sky again.

His hand grazed the doorknob before a weight rammed into him, sending him to the ground. He flailed and fought, throwing his elbow back, kicking his feet, snapping his teeth at the hand that came into view. None of it mattered.

His arms were wrenched back and the now-familiar mechanical click sounded out, restraining his hands and feet. He was flipped over and a man stared down at him, his hair still pulled back in a perfect ponytail, like he hadn't just wrestled someone into submission.

"When are you gonna get it through your thick head that there ain't no escape? You belong where your master is."

Shawn bared his teeth and tried to knee his captor in the junk. He'd lost, but he wasn't going down without a fight. Even if it was just a matter of time before the inevitable.

The man-who-thought-he-owned-Shawn angled away from the kick before grinning and saying clearly, "Stay."

Shawn stopped moving as frustrated tears filled his eyes. He braced himself and spat out, "Fuck you."

The collar around his neck beeped angrily as pain arced through his body. He gasped for breath once the electricity faded and the man tutted down at him. "Your sale shoulda been a nice Christmas bonus, but you've got a ways to go."

The man grabbed Shawn's shoulder and dragged him to a ring set in the floor, the movement aggravating all of the bruises across Shawn's body. He focused on keeping himself still so he wouldn't set off the collar for disobeying the 'stay' order. As much as he'd like to shock the man grabbing him, he knew from experience that the price for such an action was too high. Especially when he already had a punishment coming for trying to run.

Something clicked into the back of the collar, tethering him to the floor. How many other people had this man beat into submission over the years? He had a plan for everything.

Well, almost everything. He hadn't expected the fork Shawn had driven into his hand.

Shawn forced himself to focus, watching as the man walked out of sight; it was better to know what was coming. The man came back, holding a small black box in his bandaged hand while brandishing a large needle with the other. Shawn gulped. Was it better to know what was coming?

"Your pretty face is already going to fetch me a pretty penny, but if I have to be stuck with you anyways… May as well use that time to make you even prettier."

The man ran his fingers under Shawn's jaw, almost gentle as he turned Shawn's head slightly to the side. "This isn't your punishment, though if you fight I'll be adding to it. Think of this as your Christmas gift."

Shawn squeezed his eyes closed and tried not to twitch as the needle pierced through his ear.

(4 years ago)

Shawn knelt on his pillow, his hands clasped in front of him as his collar tugged at his throat. His back stung from the beating he'd earned last night, but his owner's father hadn't been interested in drawing blood, just in reminding Shawn of his place. No one wanted to deal with an insubordinate slave during a holiday party.

"There, all done! Oh my gosh, you're so cute!" His owner stepped back to admire her work and Shawn felt something smooth and silky brush up against the back of his neck.

It could have been so much worse; she could have dressed him up in all sorts of things. A large bow around his collar barely even made the list of the top worst things she could have done. But it was a bow. Around his collar. Drawing all attention towards what he was.

His owner patted his back through the fuzzy sweater she'd picked out for him, unintentionally hitting the largest of the belt welts. "Rover, I just gave you a present. What do you say?"

Shawn tried to stop his wince; she didn't like when he pulled away from her. He answered in a low monotone, "Thank you, Missy." He should stay quiet. "You're not going to wear one too, are you? I don't think you could pull it off."

She swatted at his head. "Be good. I've been looking forward to showing you off to Grandma. I don't want to have to tell Daddy that you're being a bad boy again."

It was going to be a full family get together; a whole night of staying quiet at his owner's feet as she fed him treats and made him show off his tricks. He wanted to ruin it, to shove her face in her food, to burn the Christmas tree, to yell out everyone's secrets at the top of his lungs… But he knew what would happen if he even hesitated at following her orders.

Missy being in charge of him was humiliating. Missy's father being in charge of him was so much worse. The last time he'd tried anything, he'd been chained up in the shed for days while only being visited by her father when he'd wanted something to take his frustration out on.

"You need to make sure you're on your very best behavior, ok?" Missy booped his nose in a gentle admonishment.

Shawn forced down all of the words he wanted to say as he answered flatly, "Yes, Missy."

(3 years ago)

The sound of Christmas carols filtered through the closed closet door, the cheer grating on Shawn's fraying nerves. He leaned on the bars of his crate, keeping himself grounded in the dark. The walls weren't moving, he was able to breathe, it was just dark.

His stomach growled and he pulled his knees closer to his chest. If he put enough pressure on his stomach, maybe he could forget how empty it was. He needed to get used to it; he probably wasn't being fed tonight. Missy would be too distracted by her new presents to remember him. Nearly everything distracted her from remembering him anymore.

He didn't like being her pet, but he hated being forgotten even more.

The closet door cracked open, and Shawn stared at the precious growing strip of light. He'd never take being able to see for granted again. The door opened further and he had to squint as the light became overwhelming. A figure stepped through the door and stood still as his eyes adjusted.

The first thing he saw when he was able was the metal collar around the other slave's neck. The second was the plate of food she was holding. Movement pulled his attention to her other hand as her fingers twisted into a slave-sign. 'Peace. Don't fear.'

A knot of unease he hadn't even noticed loosened at the reassurance and he brought his hands up, hoping he wasn't botching the sign too badly as he sent back, 'You are welcome here.'

He hadn't been allowed to interact with the other slaves in the house, but he'd still picked up on a few signs by watching them.

The slave gave him a small smile at the attempt and nodded in understanding. She walked up to him and knelt down to unlock the small door that allowed food and treats to pass through the bars. She gave him an intentional look before carefully sliding the food onto the floor of his crate, two bread heels with a few slices of scrap turkey on top.

Her eyes flicked to the food and back to the plate in her hand as she relocked the door. She met his eyes again and held up a finger to her lips in a silent shush. Shawn understood the message, 'I wasn't ordered to do this, but technically I wasn't ordered not to do this.'

He stared at her before ducking his head in thanks; he knew the risk she was taking by stealing from their master's scraps. The fact that she was taking the risk for him instead of herself was the best Christmas present he'd ever been given.

He held up a new sign, knowing he could never properly convey his thanks. 'May you stay safe.'

She sent the same sign back before giving him a small bow and leaving the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

The laughter of joy from the free people downstairs didn't seem quite as grating as Shawn carefully picked up the food and enjoyed his small Christmas feast.

(2 years ago)

Shawn shuffled around the small kitchen, putting away the last of his master's dishes. He reached up to feel for the right stack in the cabinets, and the chain shackling his wrists together clinked against the porcelain plates. There wasn't any reason for the extra restraints, but his master enjoyed them, so Shawn had to find a way to work around them.

He made his way back to the sink, rolling his shoulders to try to stretch the tight muscles in his neck. He couldn't move his head from its bowed position unless he wanted to risk tearing out the earings that were tethered tightly to the front of his collar. Though, this master might actually like that. He seemed to enjoy the sight of blood.

The healing cuts across Shawn's stomach pulled tight as he leaned over the counter to grab a washcloth, and his feet stung as he had to put his weight back down on the welts across his soles. But they weren't bad enough to keep him from doing his job. His master loved when he messed up or acted out; they were more reasons to hurt him.

A woman's voice giggled from the other room, and Shawn listened carefully as he started wiping down the sink. With any luck, the gift exchange in the other room would finish quickly and his master would take the woman to his bedroom without worrying about Shawn.

"Tom, get in here!"

Shawn clenched his jaw and put the washcloth down. He should have known better than to tempt fate; when did luck ever go his way?

He shuffled to the living room, making sure he didn't trip over the hobbling chain connected to his ankles. He didn't dare look up to see anything about the woman; he had to stay compliant and boring. It was the only way he could think of to be sold sooner.

The plan didn't stop his small voice from pointing out how he could easily ruin his master's night by telling the woman about all of the other men and women who had come before her. He could tell her how his master always made his conquests feel loved until he'd gotten what he wanted from them, and then they were just last week's trash. He kept his eyes down and his jaw clenched around the words. He needed to be smart. He wouldn't survive long if he listened to that voice here.

The woman's voice was full of curiosity as she asked, "He really has to do everything you tell him?"

Shawn's heart pounded at his master's grating laugh; he could easily imagine the white teeth glinting through the black goatee. "This is the first time you've been around a slave? That's so cute. Yeah, he has to do anything I say. I could tell him to cut off his nose right now and he'd do it and thank me for the opportunity. Isn't that right, Tom?"

"Yes, Master." His collar wouldn't actually make him hurt himself, would it?

"I wouldn't do that, though," his master reassured his date. "Resale value, you know? I didn't actually plan to keep him this long, but he's too much fun to play with."

"Don't you ever feel sorry for him?" the woman asked.

"What? No, of course not. He's a slave." His master's tone turned condescending. "You see, slaves aren't people like me or you. The only way they can be happy is by making their master happy. Isn't that right, Tom?"

"Yes, Master." It wasn't even a lie. Slaves weren't people.

"On your knees," his master ordered. Shawn dropped to his knees, his chains barely slowing him down. "You know, I didn't get him anything for Christmas. I think I should give him the chance to make me happy…"

Shawn heard the sound of a zipper being undone and ice ran through his veins. He'd known it was a possibility for a while, but he'd been hanging onto the thin threads of hope that his master's dates would keep him from using Shawn like that.

"Oh my god, Ken! Don't be gross!"

"Come on, don't you want to have some fun and get warmed up?" his master asked, his voice thick with lust.

"Eww, no. Not like that."

"Fine… have it your way."

Shawn shook with relief as the sounds of wet kissing filled the air. He needed this master to sell him. He needed to be sold now.

Electricity rushed through him, and he jerked, unable to help but pull against his earings as his neck tightened. The pain continued to grow, his metal restraints feeling like brands as his lungs burned. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, he couldn't think. And it was still going...

The collar finally turned off and Shawn crumpled to the ground, his wheezes for breath overshadowed by the enthusiastic grunts coming from the couch. He pressed his forehead into the carpet as the sounds grew wetter. Maybe his master would consider that good enough for his Christmas gift; his pain had clearly made his master very happy.

It was a better gift than it could have been.

(1 year ago)

Soft polite chatter filled the large hall as women and men in resplendent outfits mingled. Shawn kept his eyes down as he ghosted between the groups, blending into the background in his silk shirt and dark pants. The polished silver tray in his hands stayed steady, even as he sidestepped several people to stay out of their way. Two more sections to serve, then he had to grab the tray of appetizers that were already cooling in the serving area. It was taking too long, but he couldn't go any faster. Everyone had to have a chance to drink.

His stomach growled, and he willed it to be silent. He couldn't be noticed. He was being what he needed to be.

"Slave, come."

Shawn jumped at the sound of his master's voice; was he in trouble?

Someone reached around him to grab one of the champagne flutes on the tray, and he mentally gave himself a shake as he smoothly made his way to his master. He had to be good. He was being good.

"Harry, here, had a question for you," his master said once Shawn reached him. His smile was kind and his eyes twinkled in amusement. Mixed with his round face and balding hair, he looked like he could be someone's fun uncle.

Shawn had learned the hard way not to trust that smile.

"What kind of master is Sebastian?" Harry asked curiously.

It was a test. Shawn willed the liquid in the crystal glasses to stay smooth as his hands tried to shake. There wasn't any safe answer to fall back on. "He's my master, sir…"

"But am I a good master?" his master prompted. The was a faint sound of glee mixed in with the question; just the right amount for no one to be able to call him out on it.

Shawn knew the safe answer, the right answer. He couldn't say it. He'd seen this master's mean side too many times to say it. "There's no such thing as good or bad masters, Master. There's just masters."

"I disagree," his master said, his voice suddenly turning cold. "I have guests with empty glasses. There's a tray of hors d'oeuvres that haven't been served yet. And I have a slave who doesn't understand how good it has it. I'd say that must make me a very bad master."

His master knew what he was doing; he knew there were too many people for him to serve. But Shawn had been trying. He'd been working so hard to be good… It was never enough.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

If he was going to be punished, he may as well earn it.

"Maybe I'd be able to serve your guests better if you weren't stopping me, Master. Maybe the guests with empty glasses should put them down if it's so difficult holding onto them. And maybe Harry, here, would be more interested in how you plan to sell his company shares behind his back rather than how you-" His collar beeped, warning him he'd talked too long. He stared at the small waves crashing inside the champagne flutes, like an ocean in the middle of a storm.

"Are you really-" Harry started to ask.

"Of course not. Why don't you go talk to Wendy, she's had the same headaches as you with that shipping firm. I have some… business to attend to."

The glasses rattled on the tray. Why did he always have to make things worse? He could have just accepted his punishment for failing, but he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

"Down," his master ordered.

Shawn sank to his knees, making sure to not spill any of the drinks on the tray.

"Stay." His master reached into his jacket and pulled out a thin, wrapped box. His voice turned cruel as he held the present out. "I was planning on giving you this later, but I suppose now will do."

Shawn stayed in his position, listening for an order that would let him move. This wasn't the first time his master had played this game. There wasn't any winning it.

"Your master is giving you a gift; it's wrong to not take it," his master prompted as a crowd started to form around them.

There was only one thing Shawn hadn't tried yet in these situations, and it might make his master happy. He took a fast breath and focused on his hands as he said, "I'm sorry, Master."

The collar shocked him for speaking out of turn, and his hands spasmed around the tray, but years of experience kept him from dropping what he was holding.

His master sounded amused as he said, "You're right. You should be sorry. Put the tray down before you make a mess."

Shawn put the tray down and waited for his next order. He knew better than to just take the present.

"Take it; see what I bought you."

There wasn't a chance that it would be good. But he'd ran his mouth, what did he expect? Shawn took the box from his master's hands and opened it, being careful to not rip the paper. He frowned when he saw the black straps inside. What were they?

A hand entered his vision and he flinched away. His master chuckled darkly before picking up one of the straps. It twisted in his hand, the middle being pulled down by a metal tongue attached to it. "Your mouth gets you into a lot of trouble. This will help with that."

It was enough context for Shawn to understand what his master was holding, and he scrambled to his feet without thinking. He had to get out.

"Slave!" his master barked out. "You are embarrassing me in front of my guests. Get down where you belong."

Shawn backed away, not listening even as the collar shocked him. His words were the only thing he had left. Even if they hurt to use, he still knew they were there. If he lost them, he'd lose himself. He had to survive. The collar shocked him again, harder, and his knees buckled against his will. His master stalked towards him, his hand reaching into his pocket. A mechanical click sounded out and Shawn's ankles were forced together.

It was a lost cause, he was just making it worse… Shawn still bowed his head and begged, "Please."

Another hard shock ran through his body before his chin was grabbed and fingers pressed into his jaw joints, forcing his mouth open. The metal tongue was shoved between his teeth, spikes scraping against his tongue as it was forced down.

His master leaned close as he tightened the strap around Shawn's head, pushing the metal in even further. "You're going to regret that scene. For now, you are going to apologize to all of these nice people for interrupting their night."

Shawn scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. His master grabbed his hair and forced his head up so he could see the crowd around him. "Tell them that you're sorry for not knowing your place."

Shawn understood as the collar beeped in warning, and he tried to speak around the gag, repeating his master's words as the spikes cut into his tongue.

"This is your gift; something to help you remember that you aren't in control. All of you belongs to me." His master waved at the tray still on the ground. "Now get back to work."

Shawn's ankles stayed shackled together, but the chain lengthened enough to let him stand. He blinked back his tears as he took a step towards the tray. His master grabbed his arm, hard enough to bruise. "I gave you a gift; what do you say?"

The small voice was completely silent as Shawn answered into his gag, "Thank you, Master."

(Present day)

"Hey, I got you a present." His master dropped a wrapped gift on Shawn's lap before plopping down into his desk chair.

Shawn froze and stared at the gift, years of memories flooding him all at once. He swallowed heavily and tried to push his panic back. Gus wasn't like that; Gus was nice, Gus was a friend.

Gus was a master. Masters weren't friends.

Gus spoke up, sounding concerned. "Crap, did I do something wrong?"

Shawn shook his head. "No, Mast… N-no."

"Hey, it's ok. You don't have to open it," Gus said gently. "Or, if you don't like it you don't have to keep it. This is meant to be good; if it's not good then we can forget about it."

Gus was nice, Gus was a friend. Friends gave each other gifts. Real gifts.

Shawn set his jaw and carefully opened the present with shaking hands, almost expecting Gus to snatch it back and tell him it had been a mistake. His heart stuttered as he felt soft cloth, and he pulled out a thick, yellow sweatshirt.

"I saw you eying it up last time we went shopping," Gus said, his voice still deliberately gentle. "I know you probably can't wear it outside, it would cover too much of your collar, but you can be comfortable when you're in our room…"

Shawn ran his hand over the soft garment, too overwhelmed to say anything. Gus hadn't just given him a gift; he'd paid attention to what Shawn was looking at, he'd paid attention to what limitations Shawn had, he'd cared enough to want Shawn to be comfortable. He was a good friend. He was a good master.

The words weren't enough, but they were all Shawn had. "I… I don't… Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'm glad you like it," Gus said with a relieved smile.

"I don't… I don't have anything to give you," Shawn realized. Friends gave each other gifts. But he had nothing to offer.

He'd expected Gus to just wave it off and tell him it was fine, but Gus rarely did what he expected. Gus spoke up hesitantly. "This is just an idea, I don't want you to do it if you don't want to. The whole point of gift giving is that it's something you're giving freely." He looked at Shawn like he wasn't a slave. "I'm… I'll always be curious. About who you were before, you know, the collar. That's yours, and I'm never going to ask or demand to know. But I'll always be curious."

Shawn looked at him in shock before looking back down at his new shirt. He didn't think much about back then, and no one had ever cared enough to ask him about it. But Gus cared, and he didn't realize that he owned those memories like he owned everything else of Shawn's. Or, maybe he did realize and he was giving Shawn the choice anyway.

It was an even greater present than the sweatshirt.

"I wasn't the only loud mouth of my family," Shawn started. It was easier to think of other people from back then instead of himself. "We had a day at school where a lot of our parents came in to talk about their jobs and stuff. My… my dad was a stubborn rule-follower and I knew he was going to embarrass me if he came in. So, I convinced my uncle to pretend to be him instead."

Shawn went on to describe his Uncle Jack enthralling the whole class with his tales of treasure hunting before throwing chocolate coins all around the room. He didn't mention how his dad had come in to break up the fun. It seemed wrong to complain about him, but it also seemed wrong to talk about him without complaining.

"Wait, wait," Gus said, his laughter fading into a look of realization. "I think I heard about that! One of my friends, Dennis, told me about it."

Shawn's jaw dropped, his mind seemingly locked in a state of shock for the day. "Dennis Gogolack?"

"Yeah! You knew him?"

"Knew him? We were friends!" Shawn grinned at the fond memories that he hadn't thought of in years. "We went alien hunting together."

Gus pointed at himself. "We went alien hunting together! We met up when he transferred to Meitner's."

"I always knew he was a smart cookie."

"Man… small world." Gus gave his head a bewildered shake.

"Yeah… Think we would have been friends if you went to public school?" Shawn couldn't help but ask.

"Most definitely. You would have gotten me into so much trouble…"

Shawn smirked at Gus' assessment; he probably wasn't wrong. His smile grew softer as he ran his thumb over the sweatshirt on his lap. "Merry Christmas, Gus."

"Merry Christmas, Shawn."

Fun fact: I wrote this around Christmas… of 2022. It's just been hanging out in my outline document for over a year until the boys finally got to celebrate.