Page 259 of Bad for Me

“Someone’s feeling sensitive today,” the second man says.

I’m sure of it now. I’ve heard his voice before. The question is justwhereI’ve heard it. Maybe he was one of the people at the auction, or somebody who’d onboarded me into the organization.

But if he’s one of the lower-ranked people, he wouldn’t be here, meeting with Raul at his own home.

“Yes, well,” Raul grumbles. “I haven’t been getting much sleep.” He digs his foot into my back. “Been busy.”

I straighten up, pushing back against his foot.

The man whose voice I recognize laughs and says, “Fuck, your boy’s gagged and bound and he’s still defiant. You should have gotten somebody younger after all. They’re easier to train.”

Raul’s voice is cold when he replies, “He usually behaves. Apparently he just doesn’t like not being the center of attention. Well, we can fix that.” He removes his foot from my back, setting it firmly on the floor. “Kneel up.”

I grunt and sit up on my knees. I feel drool slipping past the gag and down my chin. I must look completely debauched already, without anybody having even touched me.

There’s a knock on the door, and I turn my head in that direction despite not being able to see.

“Enter!” Raul shouts. The door opens, and I hear the soft pad of bare feet and the clink of chains.

It must be one of the other slaves in the house.

The man I don’t recognize makes a delighted sound. “Now that’s more like it!”

I hear the sound of glasses being set down on the coffee table, those soft footsteps circling around it.

“Do you gentlemen need anything else?” Raul asks. I half-expect him to offer what I’m positive is a woman to the asshole, but after a short pause, he orders, “Come back with new drinks in an hour.”

The footsteps retreat, and she leaves without another sound. The door closes behind her, and the man who’d just spoken says with a grunt, “Fine piece of ass.”

He’s disgusting. I wish I had a name for him so I could report him, but they’re all being careful — whether it’s because of me, general security, or what, I’m not really sure.

“My father seems to think so,” Raul says, his voice flat. “Regardless. Shall we discuss business?”

Finally. I take a breath and force myself to concentrate on what they’re saying. They’re still vague enough that it’s hard to piece together anything useful, but I have a sense of their business now.

The only thing that’s nagging at me is that man whose voice I recognize. There’s something off about it, about the way he fills the vowels, about how sometimes he saysbinand sometimes he saysben.

I think he’s faking his accent. I can’t tell if he’s Midwest or east coast, but he’s definitely not who he claims to be.

I wonder if Raul notices these things or if he’s completely oblivious.

I wonder why I care.

Most of what they discuss, I already know, though there are a few key dates I make mental notes of. When I get out of this — and Iwillget out of this — I’ll have plenty of information to make this worth it.

Despite my best efforts to stay still and listen, it gets uncomfortable to stay “kneeling up,” as Raul puts it. I start to slouch a little here and there, only to catch myself, and all pressing against his foot does is make my cock threaten to fill because of the humiliation and the slight edge of discomfort.

I clench and unclench my hands behind me, trying to focus, but Raul finally seems to notice my distraction.

He grabs me by the back of the neck and urges me to sit up again. “If you can’t keep still, I might as well put you to use,” he tells me. I can’t do much in this position, but he taps the inside of my calf anyway. “Turn around and face me.”

I grunt, slowly shuffling around.

It’s surprisingly difficult to do with my body bound as it is. It would be faster to get up, turn around, and kneel again, but it’s clear from Raul’s hand on my shoulder that he doesn’t want me actually getting up.

“Nice ass on him,” the familiar voice says. “Have you made good use of him yet?”

I flush red, remembering exactly what kind of use Raul’s been making of me.

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