Sedition (11 page)

I can’t take the conflict, and I decide that recklessness is the best solution. With a little bit of a tug, I break away from Cash’s grip, ignoring the furious glare he gives me. I don’t care if he rips me away and beats me again; I’d prefer that to watching our project summarily destroyed by this man I hate. It seems that the only weapon I have against Torenze is myself, my body, and I’m willing to put it on the line to shut him up.

Cash is far too proper to fight with me in public. He lets me go, and when he does, I go to Torenze, dropping to my knees at his feet. It’s showy, but it works. It’s what I’m trained for, and when I’m fully clothed and adequately motivated, I can play the part of pretty sex toy very well.

I don’t speak, because I know that Torenze prefers overly formal slaves, and formal training dictates that I’m quiet until I’m spoken to. It also dictates that I don’t flinch or bat away the hand that comes down in my hair, petting me appraisingly, as if I’m a show dog. I don’t care about the humiliation; I care about my master and our project.

“Well, this is certainly a more interesting topic,” Torenze declares. “Such soft hair.”

“Yes, sir,” I whisper, glancing up at him in the most seductive way possible.

“Is the rest of you this soft?” he teases, coming back to catch me by the nape of my neck, holding me there. It’s oddly uncomfortable; it doesn’t really hurt, but it’s so controlling and done so carelessly that it makes me want to squirm away from it. I know better.

“I have many soft parts, sir,” I answer, smiling seductively. The only soft thing right now is my cock; everything else is tense and struggling not to pull away. But I can’t embarrass myself and my master that way. I chose this, now I have to follow through.

“He is quite captivating,” one of the women conversing points out, oblivious to the power play. Good. It’s working. “Wherever did you find such a slave?”

Cash flushes deeply. While he doesn’t seem to resent talking about me anymore, he doesn’t enjoy it, and he especially doesn’t enjoy answering questions about where he got me, because it’s completely below him. “It was an off-market,” he manages, obscuring the details. “Out of business, now, they weren’t really the most reputable. Sometimes, you find gems where you least expect them.”

I blush as well, not-so-secretly pleased to hear my master call me something so nice.

“They treated him rather roughly from what you’ve told me, Cash,” Torenze teases, the wink in his eye far more malicious than playful. He’s also hinting that he’s more familiar than he really is with me or with my master. He knows I’m scarred up because he watched me being beaten, not because we’re friends. But nobody watching has any idea about that.

“Not everyone knows how to treat a quality product,” Cash dismisses, and I am pleased by his words again. Even though he calls me a product, even though Torenze is pulling a little harder than necessary at my hair and fingering my lips, I’m pleased to hear that my master disapproves of how I was treated.

“Mind if I look him over?” the woman asks, innocently interrupting Torenze’s plot with her own curiosity.

“Of course not,” Cash answers, smiling more widely than he probably needs to. He’s pretending to be cordial, but really, he’s as thrilled to get me away from Torenze as I am to get away from him. “Sascha, go to her.”

I rise gracefully, assisted unnecessarily by Torenze’s hands pulling at my hair, and I walk over to the woman. She smiles at me, motioning for me to stay standing, and she reaches out to squeeze my upper arm, intimate, appraising. It’s a little uncomfortable to be evaluated like this, but she’s not hurting me. I try to keep my face blank.

“Well, he’s as skinny under the clothes as he looks,” she teases, and unlike Torenze, it’s in good humor. “These young boys sure can keep the weight off, can’t they?”

“Sascha is healthy,” Cash replies, a little bristly. The woman hadn’t meant offense, but my master is tense, and he snaps when he’s tense.

I glance at the woman, assessing her to be a lot more relaxed than Torenze. I make my next move carefully, both to distract, and lighten the tension that my master caused. “I get a lot of exercise, ma’am,” I say, shy, like I don’t notice the innuendo. I smile when I say it.

The people standing around burst into laughter, like they might at a child who unwittingly made a sex joke, and I glance back at my master, pretending to be confused. He doesn’t look entirely pleased, but then, he’s not one to make a show of himself. I smile, and he returns it, letting me know that we are on the right path.

“Turn around for me, dear,” the woman suggests, turning me gently. “Let’s have a look at you.”

I turn for her, and for the others standing around, and I make sure to smile at Torenze when I pass him, even though I hate the very sight of him. I’ve orchestrated a situation where he can’t really discuss Cash’s research any further; it would be entirely out of place, now that there is something else interesting to discuss and look at and even touch. I tolerate the eyes and hands on me, relieved that they are mostly friendly. Torenze pushes it too far, his hand lingering on my ass and squeezing too hard, making me want to squirm away. I whimper, instead, like he’s hurting me. While I hate to break protocol, I don’t want to give him the impression that this is acceptable, and few people fault a slave for being hurt.

“Someone sure appreciates you, boy,” another man says, calling Torenze out on his inappropriate public behavior. “Better run back to your master before someone gets too friendly!”

I give the man an appreciative smile, although it doesn’t even come close to how appreciative I really feel. I make a show of scampering back to my master, dropping to my knees and hiding behind his legs, giggling like I’m some sort of trite little boy. Torenze can’t fight it, especially when everyone else thinks I am so charming. Even Cash plays along, petting me like he has to reassure me before pulling me to my feet and wrapping his arm around my waist. I cuddle into him, only partly because of show, and I breathe a sigh of relief as the conversation turns to reputable auction houses and memorable slaves that each person has owned in the past.

The rest of the event is tense; Torenze doesn’t try anything, but the look on his face says that he wants to, and it’s all I can do to shake off the feeling of his grabby fingers. He catches us as we leave, putting an arm around my master and me at the same time, trapping me between them.

“I do hope you’ll take me up on my invitation soon, Cash,” Torenze hints, his voice threatening. “It would be a pity if I decided you weren’t still good partner material.”

“I’ll look at my schedule,” my master mumbles, hurrying out and practically ripping me away from him.

The hov-car ride is quiet at first, and it’s me who breaks the silence. I can’t handle the tension or the uncertainty.

“Cash… are you going to…” I can’t even finish asking, and the irritated glare he shoots my way doesn’t help at all.

“No, Sascha, I am not going to give you to that man!” he snaps at me, like he hasn’t done it before.

“What about your mother?” I ask. “Isn’t she a bigger threat? You said she’s pressuring you. Don’t we need Torenze to get her to back off?”

“I’ll keep you safe from both of them,” Cash insists. “You’re my responsibility. I’ll figure something out, and it will not involve putting you in more danger!”

“All right,” I agree, going silent after that. I won’t argue about it. I feel a little more comfortable with the reassurance, but I wish we could have discussed it. Torenze scares and repulses me, but the opportunity to further the project might be worth it.

We get home, and we’ve barely been sitting down for five minutes when the door rings. I sigh, irritated at the interruption. Cash and I have just finished evading this last drama, and now some asshole probably wants to sell us stocks or timeshares or religious views, none of which I am even remotely interested in, not like it’s really my decision to make.

Reminding myself to keep my snarky attitude under control, I open the door, and I feel my world implode at the sight of the person in front of me.

“Sascha.”

He stands there, looking different than before, but still so much the same. Still exactly how I remember him, over four years later. My heart races.

“Abriel?”

Chapter 10
Visitor

I hear voices in my foyer, and I frown. Sascha isn’t much for conversing with strangers, and I’m not expecting anyone. I make my way out quickly, surprised to see Sascha ducking away from someone I don’t recognize. The other man looks confused and hurt, and he’s looking at Sascha like he knows him.

“Sascha, who is it?” I demand. He stares back and forth between me and this other man, looking completely lost. I haven’t seen him this unsettled in a while, and I wonder who this man could possibly be to upset him so.

Finally, he speaks.

“This… this is Abriel.”

For half a second, I am confused, wrinkling my brow as I try to place the name. Suddenly, it hits me.

“Your brother?”

Sascha nods, and the room goes silent. His twin does look like him; not identical, but they clearly resemble one another. Of course, the biggest difference is the look of complete shock on Sascha’s face.

Abriel is the first to speak. “Mr. Michaud, please, let me introduce myself. My name is Abriel Gabbamonte, I apologize for being so forward, but your slave, see, he’s my brother. I’ve been searching for him for years, and—”

“Where and how did you find this information?” I ask. I’m instantly suspicious of him, and I try to pretend it’s not because I know he’s going to take Sascha away from me. I try to pretend that I’m just checking my own security, covering bases.

“A lot of sources, sir,” Abriel replies vaguely. “I’ve searched for Sascha since he was Demoted, followed him through his re-education center and everything. I lost him for a while, but it was important to me, and I made the right connections. Finding your address was quite difficult, but if you look hard enough, you can find anything, and I just kept looking.”

I have plenty of security systems in place, and the man doesn’t seem to be very efficient, but then, my security system was designed to ward off sophisticated attacks, not diligence and persistence. I’m still suspicious. What if one of my competitors has somehow involved him?

“What are your intentions?”

“I just wanted to see him. To talk to him,” Abriel confesses. “And, um, I might have a sort of… business proposal?”

He wants to buy Sascha. It’s so obvious, I don’t know why he just doesn’t come out and say it, but perhaps he and Sascha share the same guardedness. They both share the utter inability to hide their feelings; Abriel reads like an open book. He is delighted to find his brother. Sascha just looks scared, probably because he doubts I’ll release him. I should be excited for them both. Abriel is here to take Sascha home. Sascha will be safe with his brother; he won’t be the object of Oliver’s attentions, and he won’t be a pawn for my mother to toy with. All the worries I’ve had about his safety can be solved by simply letting him go.

“Mr. Gabbamonte, please, come in.” I lead Abriel to the living room, with Sascha tagging behind. “If you would please wait here, I will return in just a moment. Sascha, a word.”

Sascha obeys, following me into my office. I lean back against my desk, thinking back to the very first day I found him and brought him in here. It was so long ago; it seemed so insignificant in my life. Now, I can barely imagine my life without him.

“Cash…” he starts, confused and scared.

I can’t keep him here. He’s my property, my slave, my partner in research, but he’s also grown dear to me. I told him before that I’d sell him if he didn’t participate in my research, but I didn’t really think there was anywhere for him to go. I thought he was safer with me. He seemed content just earlier today, but that’s only because he had no other option. I couldn’t live with myself if I sold him to someone who would harm him, but he’ll be safe with his brother. If he stays with me, he’s at risk of being used in my plays for power, and that will always come between us. I need his help, but I value knowing he’s safe far more. The best thing I can do for him is let him go.

“It’s all right, Sascha,” I say, pretending to be calm. I can’t let him see how much this hurts me. “I know you want to go with him. He’s your family. It’s only right. You deserve it after all I’ve put you through.”

He nods, confirming my words.

“You can take your things,” I tell him, still calm and detached. “While your brother and I are discussing the purchase price, you can pack them up. You can take the tablet I gave you—”

“Cash—”

“—just make sure to flash over anything I might need from you,” I continue, ignoring his interruption. I can’t bear to discuss anything more than logistics with him. “There are suitcases in the hall closet. Take the brown ones, I like the red ones when I travel. And don’t worry about leaving anything, I can have it donated or—”

“Cash, please—”

“Sascha, just go.”

I force the words to come out cold and callous. He needs to go, and I need to make him. Admitting my feelings for him will only make it harder for both of us. When he stands there motionless instead, I turn it up. “I still own you, and I won’t hesitate to slap you if you don’t get moving. Don’t make me do that in front of your brother.”

It’s an empty threat and we both know it, but it gets him moving. He nods and walks away, the hurt visible on his face for only a split second before he looks away from me. It’s all happened so fast, but I have to do it. It’s better for him. He won’t be at risk from being involved in my project, he won’t be passed around to men like Oliver Torenze. He can live out his life comfortably with his brother. Maybe I’ll even find a way to slip some money into Abriel’s credit account when he’s not paying attention, make sure they’re all taken care of.

I hear Sascha getting the suitcases as I ordered, and I return to the living room, plastering a cordial smile on my face and inviting Abriel into my office. I’m tempted to just give Sascha to him, but he opens with an offer that probably represents his life savings, then asks how much I want for Sascha. There is no price for him, but I don’t want to seem disrespectful. I suggest a price nearly double what I paid for him, and Abriel looks at me in shock.