Lost and Found: Erotic Pets Read online

  He gives me a heartbreaking look. He looks like a damn ‘Save the Orphans’ shot. Luke groans, and translates that Rinnie is worried his owner won’t let him start school.

  Luke stops translating, gets up, and won’t sit back down.

  “Brin’ll kill me, sir. Please.”

  Fuck, if Brin is involved in this -- damn, I find that hard to believe. He’s one of the few guys I have some real respect for -- Luke is well trained and earning his own living -- I can’t believe he’d be complicit with Steve doing this even if they were college friends.

  Luke blurts out, “Rinnie knows Latin. You ask him,” and runs off the porch.

  Crud.

  Rinnie gives me a trembling smile, and says “Lingua franca, sir?”

  I laugh, and start painstakingly putting together a question in Latin. We pass notes back and forth in shaky Latin, and I get madder and madder with Steve. Rinnie is terrified of being deported. His extended family has thrown all their money at getting him to the USA and paying his tuition and he knows he’s their hope for their future. I can’t disentangle how Steve came to be his sponsor and owner, but it’s clear that Steve threatens him with the loss of his sponsorship and calling immigration services.

  When I ask Rinnie if Steve abuses him or if he wants to leave him, he crumples up the note paper and won’t write more.

  I tug his leash -- it’s never off him -- and he looks away.

  I don’t want to lose it before I find out more, but I am furious. I take Rinnie inside to stay with Chris -- he takes him under his wing, and sneaks him a few extra treats. I set off to hunt for Brin. Luke sees me coming and dashes off, despite Brin’s surprised yell at him.

  “We have to talk,” I say grimly.

  I watch Brin carefully as I tell him what’s going on, and I’m convinced he didn’t know anything.

  “Fuck, John, I thought the boy was just homesick -- I encouraged Luke to be his friend -- but I had no idea.”

  “Luke won’t tell me anymore, and Rinnie’s clammed up -- I need to know, Brin. What else is happening? You get it out of your buddy.”

  He nods. “I feel like crap for bringing Steve along. I shouldn’t have.”

  “You can put it right. Get Steve to open up. If he wants to join us, we need to vet him anyway. But right now, even if Rinnie is not being abused, he sure as hell is being mistreated.”

  Brin gives me a somewhat sour look and mutters something about my director post going to my head already, but he grabs a six-pack and sets off to interrogate Steve.

  I sigh, avoid Nick who is looking for someone to play tetherball of all things, and track down twink to see what damage control is needed there.

  Twink isn’t giggling. Nor is the boy. I get more orphan eyes. Jesus Christ. Being the director of a non-profit apparently means unending sob stories.

  “Tommy would like to be rescued,” says twink in solemn tones.

  “From?”

  “Indentured Servitude,” says twink melodramatically.

  “Oh, for God’s sake. Tommy -- come and talk to me. Having twink as your advocate is only going to hurt your cause. Twink -- go play tetherball with Nick.”

  At least Tommy is easier to extract information from than Rinnie -- and not just because he speaks English. Once he gets started he’s hard to stop. There’s no trauma in his story. Just a lot of dumb decisions. He was doing a Musical Theatre degree but flunked out because he neglected his other classes. In the meantime, he’d run up huge credit card bills, massive student loans, and bought his silly little pink scooter. He thought being a go-go dancer and stripper would be fast money and then of course came a bit of escort work by which time he’d spent more and run into real trouble with less legitimate creditors. Then he met a lender who agreed to pay off his debts in exchange for owning Tommy for five years.

  “Pimp,” I mutter as it doesn’t sound at all like what I’d call ownership.

  Tommy sighs. “I did agree, sir, and I did consent. And he’s decent to me. But, God it’s not what I thought.” He gives me a rueful grin. “Oh, I know -- but being a hooker isn’t the part I hate most. It’s my owner -- I thought I’d be his, but he never touches me. I don’t even get to live with him. That’s what I hate.”

  I fold my arms. “You promised me you were fine and had consented.”

  “I am and I did. I just can’t keep doing this. Please help me.”

  “You also said your owner leads you by your piercings and hair. Now you say he never touches you.”

  He squirms. “I’m not lying, sir. Sometimes he delivers me to clients that way. Please, sir: I’ve honored the deal for two years, and I just can’t get out from under.”

  “Is your owner messing with your repayments?”

  Tommy twists his braid. “No, sir. It’s my fault. I buy stuff. All the time. I can’t help it. Sir has already paid off another set of bills for me. And I...”

  “...still spend,” I finish for him. “So, if we rescue you, what will change?’

  Tommy squirms. “I need an owner, sir. One who controls me. I can’t control myself.”

  “You can spend the week with us, boy. See if you still want to be rescued once you see a bit more, and I’ll see what the group has to say. But if you’re not being abused, we can hardly interfere.”

  His face falls. “I know,” he whispers. “I just wish I had a real owner.”

  I send him inside to help Chris in the kitchen, and make a beeline for the woods. I need to sit by the creek alone and zone for a bit. Some freaking retreat this is. I’m exhausted.

  The rest of the day is peaceful. I trust Brin to hold up his end of the deal, and I let the guys know Tommy is a visitor and not to be messed with. The only disruption is twink getting a black eye when he gets too enthusiastic playing tetherball with Nick. He howls the place down until Ben spanks him out of his shock. I feel briefly cruddy that twink got hurt, since I’d only sent him to play to get rid of him, but I’m more pissed at Nick’s attitude about playing with a boy. He should have been an ostentatious condescending prick, but he seemed to enjoy himself.

  Mike shows us some Japanese bondage that night, and Tommy volunteers to be the model since he’s not going to fuck anyone, and is trying to showcase what a good possession he’d make. He looks stunning with his coffee skin covered in intricate white knot work, and his dark braid trailing down. Mike tugs his leather hair thong off, and even he admires the waves of hair that come loose. He slides Tommy into his sling and suspends him so his hair hangs away from his body. Shit, the boy is gorgeous. I hope the guys reject his petition or there’ll be trouble around here. Steve is already eyeing him greedily.

  I make sure Tommy is solitary -- and safe -- in my study that night.

  ***

  The next day, I take advantage of having extra labor around to get the bulk of the sleeping loft conversion done. Tony did the design to pay for Colby’s training. Luke is my carpenter’s boy -- to his dismay. He’s helped build a few decks as part of his landscaping business, and can follow instructions.

  While we’re both in the close quarters of the loft, I give Luke a meaningful look, and he crumbles. He confides that Steve hurts Rinnie.

  “When they fuck, sir.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “So? I hurt you when we fuck.”

  “Not the same way,” perseveres Luke. “It’s just uncomfortable pain, not sexy pain. And he ignores Rinnie when he says no; and Rinnie doesn’t get to have a safe word...”

  I bang in a few nails while I think.

  “Brin said...” whispers Luke. He takes the plunge. “Brin said Steve feels out of his depth. He thought having a foreign boy would be easier than one who could talk back or leave. But he’s freaked out by how homesick Rinnie is. And he’s scared of what Rinnie will say if he lets him go to school and learn English.”

  I snort. “If he treats his boy right, he doesn’t need to worry about what he says. Does he?’

  Luke sighs, “No, sir. Of course not, sir.”

&
nbsp; I slap his ass for sassing me, and we finish up the framing in silence.

  Tomorrow is going to be the day of the various commitment ceremonies, and I spend the afternoon with Mike making sure all the restraints and equipment are ready and we know what our roles are. As we prepare, I talk through the Rinnie and Tommy issues with Mike and listen carefully to his advice. It’s a relief to have an older, wiser head around for a change. Even Nick seems to respect him. Mike agrees that tomorrow evening, after the ceremonies, he’ll be a mediator between the group and Steve, and also listen to Tommy’s request.

  Now the pressure is off me for a change, I enjoy the evening. Before bed, I lean on my back porch railing, listening to the party sounds behind me and gazing out into the dark across my vegetable patch and into the woods. I have a cigar and scotch. Life’s pretty damn good. I’m briefly startled by a hand on my crotch, and then remember the back porch is where the blow job duty boy is stationed. I don’t even look down, but unzip, and let him work on me.

  Life is fucking good.

  I ruffle the boy’s hair as I finish, and take a look down as I zip back up. I catch a gleam of red. “Thanks, Luke.”

  “You’re welcome, sir.”

  ***

  The boys who are taking part in the ceremonies are sequestered in different parts of the cabin all day. Chris mothers them with snacks and advice, and they’re all allowed to use the shower. I stop by every so often to make sure everything is calm, but otherwise we leave them alone. Mike has them sign consent papers after lunch. Rory and Colby are frightened now it comes to the actual branding day, and twink is being reassured by Chris that the tattoo needles are not like piercings. Luke is a chalky white under his freckles.

  I formally ask them at sunset if any of them have changed their minds. I get a shaky chorus of “no, sir.”. I lead them out in a line down the steps, past the fire, and have them kneel by the branding stand. Their owners are waiting there for them with Mike, and everyone else is in a circle around them. We’ve agreed to keep the ceremony to a minimum -- no vows or speeches, just the knowledge that the boys have consented and are submitting to a deeper commitment. Rory will sign lifetime papers with Greg after he’s marked.

  Tony and Greg have asked that the brandings be done first -- their boys are already freaked enough with anticipation, and twink’s tattoo will take a good hour to do. Colby and Rory can’t take their eyes off the brazier of hot coals Mike has waiting.

  Mike is talking low and calm to Colby and Rory, and then he takes Colby’s wrist and leads him to the stand. I strap him down securely. Tony wants to hear his scream so he’s not gagged. Tony moves round to hold his boy’s bound wrists and watch his face. He can still see his boy’s waiting bare ass gleaming in the firelight. Colby’s lost his dignity and trying to escape. His ribs are heaving frantically and he's wriggling enough to be a problem. He’s passed from just plain scared to hysterics. Mike reaches forward and slaps his arm.

  "Kid, we discussed this. Stay still. You’ve consented. Fighting will change nothing."

  Colby goes limp enough that Tony checks to see if he’s fainted, but he’s simply given up.

  Mike is checking his branding iron’s temperature. Colby’s lucky -- Tony’s chosen just a simple A that can be done with a single strike. Mike doesn’t warn Colby -- he said earlier that he believes countdowns and repeated “ready” questions are unfair and only increase stress. He nods at Tony, puts his left hand on Colby’s ass to smooth the skin and presses the hot metal on.

  Colby manages an impressive howl, and I’m damn glad we strapped him down well. Mike holds the iron in place and then lifts it away. I choke briefly at the smell. Colby is crying while Tony checks his mark and then kisses his mouth hard. Despite his earlier ambivalence about the commitment brand, he does love his boy. Colby staggers a little as he’s released, and Tony keeps a protective arm around him, and soothes and fusses over him. The boy is a little shocky, and Chris comes over with a pain spray and drink for him. Colby snuggles into Tony as Chris tends to his ass.

  Rory is looking dizzy, but he stands up and walks to the stand unaided, and lies himself in position. Mike pats him affectionately and gags him. I stroke his wrist as I strap him down. Damn, he could have been mine... if only. JF would look better on his ass than the ornate G that Greg has commissioned.

  Poor little Rory -- the design needs several strikes rather than one brand, and he’s sobbing in despair by the time the last one is applied. He’s shaking, but not fighting. Greg looks so fucking proud of him. I have to step back into the shadows because I just can’t congratulate them. I could handle the brand, but watching Rory sign his name to Greg’s lifetime contract is too much. His silent adoration of Greg as Greg signs his name, then enfolds Rory in a passionate kiss is heartbreaking.

  Simon is checking over the two brands and has prescription ointments to help with the healing. He’ll make a house call on them both next week. I suppose having a doctor in the group is not all bad. The two branded boys are fussed over by their owners, and get much admiration from the other boys.

  Twink is wriggling miserably in his place in line. He’s last, and is obviously not enjoying the anticipation at all. Up next, Luke looks as if he’s going to faint. Bill comes forward and has Luke sit by the fire. Simon joins them. Mike and I step aside and Chris starts to film. Mike wants to learn this. Luke is listening closely to Bill, and sure enough he does go into a light trance. I didn’t believe before that Bill could do hypnosis, but he says it’s helpful in his laser eye surgeries to calm patients down.

  Simon is stroking Luke’s wrist, and pulling lightly on his thumb. He builds the range of motion and level of smooth tugging, and suddenly Luke’s thumb is loose against his palm, and Simon is sliding Luke’s left hand through the surgical steel oval that Brin had custom milled out of a solid piece. A second or two more of stroking, and Simon re-locates Luke’s thumb. Luke is still breathing steadily –he’s watched everything -- but is quite calm about it, and gave no flicker of pain.

  Bill and Simon are repeating it on Luke’s other hand. There’s a slight audible pop this time as Luke’s right thumb dislocates and then is put back. Simon gently places Luke’s hands in his lap so the two ovals chink together, and Bill brings Luke back to full awareness. He looks startled to see his wrists encircled in unbroken metal, but a moment later he’s thrown himself into Brin’s arms.

  The guys keep paying attention as twink is put into position, and we all enjoy his first minutes of learning to tolerate the tattoo gun. He squeals and sobs, but after a little he calms down, and after ten minutes, he’s flying. Chris grins at me, and whispers, “I know that moment well. I love to fly under sir’s needles.”

  I look askance at him -- he has no tattoos despite belonging to Mike. Chris giggles. “Sir is going to teach you before he leaves.”

  Twink is totally out of his body, and Mike is silent as he works to protect twink’s headspace. The guys drift away to preserve the peace around him, and only Ben and I stay. Ben has a proud look on his face as he watches his initials develop on his boy’s ass. I admit, when twink is in true sub mode, he’s a good boy.

  It’s still early evening by the time twink is released. He’s twisting trying to see his butt, and Chris holds a mirror for him. Twink is right back to delirious glee as he sees it, and I sigh. So much for the peace and quiet.

  It’s further disturbed when Owen throws up. He managed all the markings, but Mike adding the branding coals into the grill and starting some burgers pushed him over the edge. Pete’s good humored about it, but I can he’s regretting bringing his boy this week. Too much, too soon for their relationship. He said earlier that Owen is into D/s but not pain, and the boy has looked pale whenever anyone was beaten this week.

  I notice Colby and Rory decline burgers as well, but Tony and Greg have no compunction about enjoying them. Since Colby and Rory are being cosseted this evening, Chris brings them out a grilled cheese each. Tommy brings me a burger and sits down next
to my feet again.

  “No second thoughts after tonight?”

  He shakes his head. “No, sir. It was beautiful. Those boys are so lucky.”

  I silently add “Greg’s so fucking lucky,” but I don’t disagree with Tommy.

  I eat my burger and let Tommy suck my fingers clean.

  Once Mike has had a break and is ready to hear about Steve and Tommy, the guys convene on the porch. There’s a vote taken that for tonight, Mike can offer judgments and cast a deciding vote if necessary. Rinnie and Luke are there, but the other boys are round the fire telling smutty ghost stories.