In a near-future United States where slavery is alive and controlled by an organization known as the Circle, Avery Tulano is up for sale yet again—and it might very well be his last time on the auction block. As a young man, he signed his life away in a contract willingly, driven by the desire to escape his life. Now, eight years later, he's broken, battered, and sick from a life of unspeakable horrors. When the bidding starts as low as $200, it may as well be a death warrant.
Enter Conrad Fisher, a corrupt ex-cop discharged from the force who runs a failing private detective business. His wife died chasing one final high and he's been in a state of isolated depression ever since. He's only at the auction to help his journalist daughter Christina get a scoop on the Circle. When he sees Avery up for bid at such a low price, however, it's an offer he can't refuse and before he knows it, he's walking out of the auction house as Avery's new owner.
It's a mistake. Slavery is wrong. Conrad can't afford to keep him anyway, no matter what strange connection they find in each other. But even if a real relationship was possible, a life of drugs, alcohol, and bad decisions is rapidly catching up with both of them—if the Circle doesn't kill them first.
Enter Conrad Fisher, a corrupt ex-cop discharged from the force who runs a failing private detective business. His wife died chasing one final high and he's been in a state of isolated depression ever since. He's only at the auction to help his journalist daughter Christina get a scoop on the Circle. When he sees Avery up for bid at such a low price, however, it's an offer he can't refuse and before he knows it, he's walking out of the auction house as Avery's new owner.
It's a mistake. Slavery is wrong. Conrad can't afford to keep him anyway, no matter what strange connection they find in each other. But even if a real relationship was possible, a life of drugs, alcohol, and bad decisions is rapidly catching up with both of them—if the Circle doesn't kill them first.
Content Warnings:
Break the Chains contains explicit content, scenes of non-consensual sex and scenes of sexual content with dubious consent.
Specifically: this story includes a scene where of a sex party where slaves expected to have sex with multiple masters and each other; sex between master and willing slave (multiple times); master and slave forced to have risky dub-con intercourse on threat of death by third party; a public hand job between master and slave witnessed by third party; graphic violence; suicide ideation and planning of suicide; drug abuse, use, and overdoses; slavery, ownership of human beings; and self-medicating HIV with Internet knowledge and dubious drugs bought on the Internet.
Break the Chains contains explicit content, scenes of non-consensual sex and scenes of sexual content with dubious consent.
Specifically: this story includes a scene where of a sex party where slaves expected to have sex with multiple masters and each other; sex between master and willing slave (multiple times); master and slave forced to have risky dub-con intercourse on threat of death by third party; a public hand job between master and slave witnessed by third party; graphic violence; suicide ideation and planning of suicide; drug abuse, use, and overdoses; slavery, ownership of human beings; and self-medicating HIV with Internet knowledge and dubious drugs bought on the Internet.
Excerpt:
"I'll take him for two hundred." A figure stepped out of the shadows. He wore a mask over his eyes to obscure his identity, but it looked at odds with the tattered brown coat he wore and the messy, greying stubble on his chin. Old duct-taped brown leather boots thudded on the concrete floor as he moved closer to inspect the merchandise, trying to look like he was quite willing to pass if he couldn't get the right price.
"Two hundred is a lowball offer," the auctioneer complained.
"The mines will give you fifty, if they even bother. They're not big on sick slaves either. Sexually transmitted diseases tend to spread like wildfire." The man spoke with confidence, stroking his chin as he stared the auctioneer down. "Take it to the seller if you must, but that's my price."
"I'll sell." The weasly, thin man who had been Avery's Master waved his hand dismissively, and Avery wasn't sad to see him go. There was no love lost with this man and his fetishes for piss and age play.
"I'll settle up now, if you don't mind," the stranger said. He handed over ten tattered twenty-dollar bills at the front counter, and Avery watched as he bought the key to his cage and collar, trying to get a read on the man. Was he an eccentric millionaire looking for a ride, or a front buyer for some other party?
The man unlocked the chains holding him and took the leash to his collar, guiding him through the throngs of people in the warehouse. The young, well-cared for slave that had tried to speak to him was being bid up into the millions, and nobody watched the dilapidated man and his new slave as they left the building.
Avery was grateful when the fresh air hit his face, a relief after the stench of so many unwashed bodies. His cock still strained for touch, and he reached down and took it in hand.
"Please don't," the stranger said.
Please? Who ever said please to a slave? Avery shot the man a confused glance but forced himself to let go of his dick. Maybe later, when they reached their destination, he could relieve himself with other slaves in his new Master's employ. Maybe the Master himself would want to try out his new toy. Avery could think of worse things—scruffiness aside, the stranger was a fairly good-looking older man, probably in his late forties or early fifties. Salt and pepper hair hung greasily around his ears in a mullet, while his stubble was steel grey to match his eyes. The man had an open face, laugh lines creasing his expression. He was different to the usual kind of customer who came to slave auctions. Avery wondered if he was this man's first slave. Maybe he'd simply submitted to some kind of natural curiosity.
The stranger opened the trunk of a white car. Avery stepped forward to climb in, but the man barred his entry, instead grabbing another long coat, which he thrust at Avery. "Put this on," he ordered. "I can't take you home naked."
"Yes, Master." Avery complied and slipped the worn garment on, though the coat was too large for him and he looked absurd in it. How long had it been since he'd been dressed? Slaves were usually kept naked, unless they were being used to present the public face of an organization. Despite all the promises the Circle had made, he'd never found himself working for the government, though he had heard of slaves who'd made it that way. Just like in the outside world, government jobs were the cushy ones, the best chance for slaves to have something resembling what they'd signed up for.
Avery scrambled to open the car door for his new Master, almost tripping over the coat in the process. The stranger didn't laugh but regarded him with a weary stare. Just who was this man? Avery closed the door and awaited further orders. Now the man would most likely order him to lie in the trunk.
"Get in." The stranger gestured to the passenger seat, and Avery's eyes widened. Masters never allowed their slaves to do things that might see them regarded as equals. He scrambled to obey. The stranger started the car and drove out of the lot, maintaining silence until they reached the highway.
"I don't know what I'm doing," the man said. "I'm an ex-cop, not a fucking slave owner!" He kept one hand on the wheel while he reached into his front pocket, pulling out a packet of cigarettes. Avery moved to help him, but the stranger pressed him away. "I can light my own smokes, thanks."
"Sorry, Master."
"Jesus Christ," the man swore under his breath. "I only went to investigate those fucks. Thought I could help my daughter with her investigation into the Circle, so she doesn't get killed. How the fuck did that turn into buying a slave?"
Avery sat silently. He had thoughts on the matter, but he wasn't going to speak unless he was given permission to do so. The last thing he wanted was a beating on his first day with a new Master.
"Say something. For fuck's sake, don't call me Master. I'm not into that dom-sub shit."
"Th-thanks," Avery managed.
"You're thanking me for making the biggest ethical fuck-up of my life? Dear God, how did I fall down this rabbit hole?" The stranger took a drag from his cigarette and held it close to the wheel as he turned a corner.
"I think that…you must be better than the organ house or the mines." Avery wasn't used to voicing his thoughts, and they came out stilted and fragmented. "I sense that…you don't want to kill me."
"Organ houses?" The stranger's eyes widened. "Kill you?"
"I was sold to an organ house a few owners ago. I only have one kidney now."
"Jesus fucking Christ…" The man swerved, almost dropping his cigarette as he lost his concentration. "You mean to say that kind of shit actually happens?"
"That's not even the worst place to go," Avery said, finding his voice. "Some people buy cheap slaves for snuff films. Or the diamond miners make you work in hazardous conditions eighteen hours a day until you die."
The man actually turned pale. "Dear God. What have I done, giving those Circle fucks my money?"
"You saved my life. Master." Avery looked down at his lap, hope daring to rise in his throat until he was sure he was going to vomit. "Please don't sell me. Even if this was a mistake. Please don't send me back there. I'll do whatever you want. I'll be good to you."
The stranger was silent for the rest of the journey. Avery studied him, trying to read the meaning behind his tormented expression. Was he truly conflicted at the thought of having bought a slave, or was he only a buyer about to deliver him over to some shady Master after all?
The car pulled into a driveway. A modest two-story single house sat on a tiny square of land. The paint around the window frames was peeling and dirt stained the grey siding a dingy brown. Weeds sprouted through the driveway, cracking the concrete underfoot.
Avery followed him inside.
"Please go upstairs and have a shower. I'll try to find something clean for you to wear."
"I'll take him for two hundred." A figure stepped out of the shadows. He wore a mask over his eyes to obscure his identity, but it looked at odds with the tattered brown coat he wore and the messy, greying stubble on his chin. Old duct-taped brown leather boots thudded on the concrete floor as he moved closer to inspect the merchandise, trying to look like he was quite willing to pass if he couldn't get the right price.
"Two hundred is a lowball offer," the auctioneer complained.
"The mines will give you fifty, if they even bother. They're not big on sick slaves either. Sexually transmitted diseases tend to spread like wildfire." The man spoke with confidence, stroking his chin as he stared the auctioneer down. "Take it to the seller if you must, but that's my price."
"I'll sell." The weasly, thin man who had been Avery's Master waved his hand dismissively, and Avery wasn't sad to see him go. There was no love lost with this man and his fetishes for piss and age play.
"I'll settle up now, if you don't mind," the stranger said. He handed over ten tattered twenty-dollar bills at the front counter, and Avery watched as he bought the key to his cage and collar, trying to get a read on the man. Was he an eccentric millionaire looking for a ride, or a front buyer for some other party?
The man unlocked the chains holding him and took the leash to his collar, guiding him through the throngs of people in the warehouse. The young, well-cared for slave that had tried to speak to him was being bid up into the millions, and nobody watched the dilapidated man and his new slave as they left the building.
Avery was grateful when the fresh air hit his face, a relief after the stench of so many unwashed bodies. His cock still strained for touch, and he reached down and took it in hand.
"Please don't," the stranger said.
Please? Who ever said please to a slave? Avery shot the man a confused glance but forced himself to let go of his dick. Maybe later, when they reached their destination, he could relieve himself with other slaves in his new Master's employ. Maybe the Master himself would want to try out his new toy. Avery could think of worse things—scruffiness aside, the stranger was a fairly good-looking older man, probably in his late forties or early fifties. Salt and pepper hair hung greasily around his ears in a mullet, while his stubble was steel grey to match his eyes. The man had an open face, laugh lines creasing his expression. He was different to the usual kind of customer who came to slave auctions. Avery wondered if he was this man's first slave. Maybe he'd simply submitted to some kind of natural curiosity.
The stranger opened the trunk of a white car. Avery stepped forward to climb in, but the man barred his entry, instead grabbing another long coat, which he thrust at Avery. "Put this on," he ordered. "I can't take you home naked."
"Yes, Master." Avery complied and slipped the worn garment on, though the coat was too large for him and he looked absurd in it. How long had it been since he'd been dressed? Slaves were usually kept naked, unless they were being used to present the public face of an organization. Despite all the promises the Circle had made, he'd never found himself working for the government, though he had heard of slaves who'd made it that way. Just like in the outside world, government jobs were the cushy ones, the best chance for slaves to have something resembling what they'd signed up for.
Avery scrambled to open the car door for his new Master, almost tripping over the coat in the process. The stranger didn't laugh but regarded him with a weary stare. Just who was this man? Avery closed the door and awaited further orders. Now the man would most likely order him to lie in the trunk.
"Get in." The stranger gestured to the passenger seat, and Avery's eyes widened. Masters never allowed their slaves to do things that might see them regarded as equals. He scrambled to obey. The stranger started the car and drove out of the lot, maintaining silence until they reached the highway.
"I don't know what I'm doing," the man said. "I'm an ex-cop, not a fucking slave owner!" He kept one hand on the wheel while he reached into his front pocket, pulling out a packet of cigarettes. Avery moved to help him, but the stranger pressed him away. "I can light my own smokes, thanks."
"Sorry, Master."
"Jesus Christ," the man swore under his breath. "I only went to investigate those fucks. Thought I could help my daughter with her investigation into the Circle, so she doesn't get killed. How the fuck did that turn into buying a slave?"
Avery sat silently. He had thoughts on the matter, but he wasn't going to speak unless he was given permission to do so. The last thing he wanted was a beating on his first day with a new Master.
"Say something. For fuck's sake, don't call me Master. I'm not into that dom-sub shit."
"Th-thanks," Avery managed.
"You're thanking me for making the biggest ethical fuck-up of my life? Dear God, how did I fall down this rabbit hole?" The stranger took a drag from his cigarette and held it close to the wheel as he turned a corner.
"I think that…you must be better than the organ house or the mines." Avery wasn't used to voicing his thoughts, and they came out stilted and fragmented. "I sense that…you don't want to kill me."
"Organ houses?" The stranger's eyes widened. "Kill you?"
"I was sold to an organ house a few owners ago. I only have one kidney now."
"Jesus fucking Christ…" The man swerved, almost dropping his cigarette as he lost his concentration. "You mean to say that kind of shit actually happens?"
"That's not even the worst place to go," Avery said, finding his voice. "Some people buy cheap slaves for snuff films. Or the diamond miners make you work in hazardous conditions eighteen hours a day until you die."
The man actually turned pale. "Dear God. What have I done, giving those Circle fucks my money?"
"You saved my life. Master." Avery looked down at his lap, hope daring to rise in his throat until he was sure he was going to vomit. "Please don't sell me. Even if this was a mistake. Please don't send me back there. I'll do whatever you want. I'll be good to you."
The stranger was silent for the rest of the journey. Avery studied him, trying to read the meaning behind his tormented expression. Was he truly conflicted at the thought of having bought a slave, or was he only a buyer about to deliver him over to some shady Master after all?
The car pulled into a driveway. A modest two-story single house sat on a tiny square of land. The paint around the window frames was peeling and dirt stained the grey siding a dingy brown. Weeds sprouted through the driveway, cracking the concrete underfoot.
Avery followed him inside.
"Please go upstairs and have a shower. I'll try to find something clean for you to wear."
