Chapter Text
Noises, loud noises. Master is yelling. Screaming. He can hear the anger in his voice. Other voices, voices he doesn’t know, stern, controlling, coming from the other room, and he trembles. Master didn’t say there was a party, and Master doesn’t sound happy. It’s never good when Master isn’t happy. He’s been told to stay in his cage, locked away for a good few hours as Master goes about his business. This doesn’t sound like business.
He doesn’t like it. So he curls up as far back as he can in his cage. Pressing against the bars for security, and chewing on the edge of his ragged blanket. He’s fine. He’s being a good boy. Master said to stay, and he’s staying. Staying low, he waits, because there is nothing else he can do.
The door to the master bedroom opens slowly, not the normal kick that Master gives, and new people, people he doesn’t know enter the room. That’s wrong. Only Master should come in this room. This is wrong wrong wrong.
“Oh hey there sweetheart.” Someone, a woman, crouches down in front of his cage, watching him, looking at him. That’s not right, she shouldn’t be here. He trembles as he crouches lower, trying to be invisible. Is this a test? He can’t hear Master, he can’t hear Master…
There is a rattle, the lock on his cage is being touched, they’re talking, the new people are talking and he doesn’t like this. This is wrong, this is new, this is so so wrong and Master isn’t here, where is Master? He hears the sound of a tool, a grunt of strength, a snap of a lock, and then the cage door is open, his cage is open, it shouldn’t be open…
“It’s okay baby, we’re here to help you.” The soft voice coos, a hand is reached into his cage, ignoring the warning from the other people watching him, surrounding him, and he feels so small and afraid. “Come to me, we’re going to get you out of here.”
Stay in his cage. Master told him to stay in his cage. That’s the order. That’s the order he needs to follow. He curls up as tight as he can, worries the fabric of the ragged blanket between his teeth, and presses back up against the bars at the back of the cage. He has to stay in his cage or Master will punish him. He knows the rules, he knows he has to follow orders, and Master has given him an order. So he stays like a good boy. He’s a good boy.
“It’s worse than we thought. He’s not going to come willingly, and I don’t want to use force on him.” The soft voice sighs, and he watches his knees, curled up tight, small and afraid but obeying, he’s a good boy. Master will be pleased he is obeying. “It’ll be kinder for him to use the potion I think.”
He’s in his cage, he’s safe, he’s obeying, he’s a good boy, he’s a good boy, he’s a good boy. The sound of a bottle smashing startles him, he can feel the liquid spray, coat his skin, he flinches, he stays low, he tries to breathe and ignore the people surrounding his cage. He’s a good boy, he’s in his cage, Master will be pleased, he’s a good boy, he’s a good boy, he’s a good boy…
The muzzle isn’t tight, but it’s restrictive, covering his mouth, and he can feel his jaw ache as he tries to stretch it. He’s not tried to bite this whole time, the few days he’s been in the holding pen he’s barely even opened his mouth, but apparently it’s standard practice when he’s expecting visitors. That’s what the soft voiced lady had said this morning when she’d attached it, latching it in place with a soft smile. Master made sure he was trained out of biting very early on. But they don’t know him like Master does. Did.
He whines and curls in on himself, small in the back corner of his pen, ignoring the circular slave bed sunk into the floor, the shelf of food left for him, the clothes in a neatly folded pile, ignoring everything because it’s all wrong. Master wasn’t coming for him. Master wasn’t allowed to come for him. He’s been ‘rescued’. It hurts. He hates it. They’d taken him, removed him from Master’s home, from his cage, put him here, and ‘rescued’ him. It makes his head hurt to think about. He’s broken the rules, he was meant to stay in his cage, but he’d woken up here.
It hurts. Because nothing here makes sense. He’d broken a rule, but there had been no punishment, no beating, no whipping, no comeuppance for breaking a rule. It hurts. It’s too confusing. Nothing here makes sense.
Curling up tighter he tries to keep some warmth in his naked form, burying his face in his arms, whining lightly to himself. He must have done something really wrong to have been taken away from Master. Maybe this was all a game, maybe Master would come and take him back and beat him for allowing it so easily. He hopes it will happen. It hasn’t happened yet. It makes him ache inside.
The other pens around him are full of other slaves, some of them whine like he does, some cry, some call out, and preen and try to lure in the Master’s that come to look in the pens every day. He stays in his corner, curled up, pretending he’s invisible. It’s better to be invisible. He wants to go back to Master’s home. He wants Master. It’s not fair. He didn’t think he’d done anything wrong.
Footsteps, voices, people pause outside of his pen, and he flinches instinctively, rubs at the muzzle before burying further into his arms to hide.
“This is him?”
“This is him.” The soft voice from the lady says, and he can hear the click of the lock being undone, his pen door being opened to allow them inside. He doesn’t know what he’s done wrong, so he stays down on the floor, curled in a ball, trying to be invisible. “He’s one of the worst cases we’ve seen. We took him from the Hels’ estate a few days ago; he’s been like this since. Honestly, we don’t think we have the resources to care for him.”
Whoever she’s speaking to hums, and he can hear as they step closer to him. So he tries to stay still, non-threatening, not a problem, he’s nothing. Not even worth their notice. Invisible. “So you called me?” The voice is low, calm, with an accent he doesn’t know, but it’s not Master’s so he shouldn’t care.
“Xisuma, you know we try, but he needs more than what we can give him here. The Light Program is constantly bringing in new slaves we’ve rescued, and he’s not made any progress since he’s been here. He doesn’t need us, he’s too used to his old life. We think he’ll only make progress with a Master to obey.” Soft voiced lady sounds like she’s pleading, like she’s desperate. He wonders just how bad he must have been for her to want rid of him so badly. The punishment is going to be bad, he knows it. “Please, will you foster him for a while?”
There is a pause, a moment, it feels fragile; he doesn’t want to break it. He doesn’t want to break the rules he doesn’t know. Fingers skim over his shoulder, light, feather light, barely even making contact. He flinches, he moves, body scrabbling away to press himself further and harder into the corner, wanting to just disappear and be invisible and go back to Master where things made sense and he knew how to be a good boy.
The fingers don’t touch again, and he’s grateful, because he doesn’t want to break down into tears again, he doesn’t want to make more noise and gain any more attention. “Joe? Have we got room for one more?” The one who tried to touch him asks the third companion.
“Xisuma, you ask that every time.” The one named Joe chuckles. “We’ve always got room for one more. I’ll get the paperwork for you to sign, and prepare to bring him into the pack.”
Thankfully they move away after that, and once he hears the swing of the gate, and the click of the lock, he feels a little safer. Only a little. It’s all too confusing and makes no sense. He wants Master. Why can’t he go back to Master? Curling his arms about his head, he trembles, feeling everything inside of him shatter at the knowledge that he’s being given away, taken away, further and further from where he’s meant to be.
“Thank you, I really mean it Xisuma, he needs you and your pack.”
“You always ask me to foster the bad ones even though I’m the worst foster master.” The one called Xisuma says with a clear smile in his voice. “Foster masters are supposed to give them back, I always end up keeping them for the pack."