Seems to be reader request week...

[maculategiraffe]

...here at the Slave Breakers ranch. Anything to stall while I scribble incoherent outlines and notes like "Scales = H, ??? tops wheel. Who in Prcup? (J x L)"

(Part three is actually more ready to start going up than that might make it sound. Later this week, I hope.)

In the meantime, aerialsprite requested "the first time Holden and Yves had sex...or maybe when Holden's still training him 'just to his specifications'. :P"

Takes place a few days after Yves' purchase. As ever, NC-17.

"He owned you two years and never-- so wait, are you actually a virgin?"

Yves, kneeling at his master's feet as Holden sat on the bed with his head tilted in interest, lowered his gaze to the floor, and was thankful when Holden let it stay lowered instead of grasping his chin and turning it back up as was his disquieting habit. He would have liked to think he could hide his dismay that his master had finally broached the subject he'd been dreading since his purchase, but the deadpan that had served him so well with his previous mistress had gotten shot to hell over the past five days. When his new master wasn't giving Yves a hands-on crash course in his own likes and dislikes and ticklish places, he was exploring Yves', with an ebullient attention against which Yves' trained composure never stood a chance. The sheer change in pace from his previous home, where he hadn't even seen his mistress every day, especially toward the end, made him dizzy, though the cloud of pheromones that seemed to surround Holden kept Yves more than content to try to keep up with the whirlwind of teasing and petting and praise and instructions. And, of course, questions. Some more welcome than others.

"No, master," he said as calmly as he could manage. "The-- the elder Lord Chernov, my former master's father, who bought me for him-- he said his son wouldn't want a virgin." What he'd actually said was Vanya's too God-damned lazy to care for the trouble of breaking new ground, although having that trouble saved him hadn't turned out to make Yves any more appealing to his new master. "So he, uh, took me. Before he gave me to his son."

"Just the once?"

Yves shook his head, his eyes fixed on the toes of his master's boots. "I'm not sure how many times, master. For several days."

There was a pause before the next question. "Did he hurt you?"

"Yes," said Yves, before he could stop himself, all the misery and confusion of those awful first days of slavery flooding back through him and coming out in his shaking voice.

"What did he do?" Holden asked gently, and when Yves looked pleadingly up into his face, added, touching Yves' cheek, "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. But I'd like to know what he did that hurt you or scared you, so I make sure not to do anything like that."

Well, that was about as fair an offer as he thought he'd get. Yves dredged up the humiliating details from his memory.

"Thank you, master. He-- well, first he told me to go clean myself up, and I-- didn't know what he meant. That made him angry. He hit me and said that was what he got for buying straight from-- and then he, uh-- did it-- to me. The cleaning." To his chagrin, his voice was shaking again. "I-- I didn't understand, I was-- no one had ever explained--"

Holden slid from the edge of the bed to the floor next to Yves, reached out and pulled him into his arms. Startled from his painful memory, Yves tensed for a moment, then relaxed against his master. Holden grabbed him a lot, sometimes because he wanted to kiss or lick or bite or suck him, or spin him around or tackle him onto the bed or push him up against the wall, and sometimes just because he wanted to hold him. This seemed to be one of the latter times. It wasn't like anything Yves had ever experienced with an owner-- or with anyone-- but now that he was getting used to it, it was... really... nice.

If it kept up, of course. Yves had his doubts.

"He showed me how to do it to myself," he said against his master's shoulder, the memory of Lord Chernov's rough contempt somehow less stinging than it had been a moment ago. "Later. He explained how I should always keep myself-- clean, and ready. For my master. But I haven't-- since you-- since I came here. I'm sorry, master, I--" He didn't have an excuse, really, except that he'd gotten so sick of keeping himself clean and ready for Ivan Chernov, who scarcely ever glanced in his direction except with annoyance that he was still there. And that he was so out of practice after two years with Lady Katya, who'd had absolutely no interest in the readiness or otherwise of his ass.

Also, of course, he'd barely had a minute to himself, except for the occasional times Holden went off alone with his wife. Yves still wasn't sure what to make of the wife-- she looked as if she were suppressing laughter almost every time she saw him with her husband, which, while mildly disconcerting, was certainly preferable to the venomous looks Ivan Chernov's occasional half-hearted girlfriends had sent him. He'd longed to snarl back at them-- Sif's sake, lady, he doesn't touch me either, okay?

"I didn't know what you'd require of me," he finished lamely, hoping a moment after the words came out that they didn't make him sound like a congenital idiot. A slave boy who didn't know that his exuberantly libidinous master would require him to be fucked in the ass had to be stupider than a baker who claimed that he hadn't realized his job would involve flour.

"Oh, that's okay, sweetheart," said Holden, kissing him on the forehead. That was something else Yves was getting used to, and sometimes worrying that he was already getting spoiled by: all the kissing. Lady Katya had kissed him sometimes as a preface to intercourse, sometimes as a ceremonious signal of forgiveness after punishment, but Holden kissed him good morning, good night, good afternoon, good job, good boy, good trick, good try, good guess, good memory, was that good for you, gods you look good, and, apparently, that's okay sweetheart. "But you remember how, right?"

"Yes, master," said Yves, trying not to grimace.

"Okay. So he cleaned you, and then he--"

"He took oil-- lubricant-- and stuck his fingers in me-- and it scared me, and I-- I struggled, I tried to get away, and he told me I was an ungrateful little shit-- but I just wasn't expecting it, I didn't know--"

"Of course." Holden rubbed at his back soothingly, and Yves went on, trying to keep his voice steady.

"When he fucked me for the first time-- it hurt." He looked up at Holden rather anxiously. "I don't think there's anything wrong with me, master, but it was my first time, and he was--" Really big, Yves had almost said, before remembering just in time another instruction Lord Chernov had given him: Never let your master suspect he's not the biggest you've ever seen. Apart from your own, of course. Yves had gathered that the younger Lord Chernov's size would compare unfavorably to his new slave's, let alone his father's. Of course, in the event, he'd never actually seen Ivan's cock, and Holden's, the third he'd ever seen up close, wasn't exactly small or anything, but still.

"Rough," he said instead. "I mean, he was kind to lubricate me, I know, but-- anyway, he got mad at me for crying, and the next time, he fucked me-- dry. To show me, he said, how much worse it could-- and every time after that, he made me get down on my knees and beg, for the lubricant."

"Oh, Yves." Holden hugged him so tightly he caught his breath, then kissed him again, this time on the cheek.

Yves tried to smile when Holden's grip relaxed again. "He said it was for my own good-- because Vanya-- Ivan-- his son was just as likely to forget if I didn't have the good sense to beg. But his son never touched me. And then he sold me to my lady, and then, and now--"

And when his mistress had told him that a married couple were interested in buying him, he'd prayed on his knees to Sif that it would be the wife who was really interested. He knew how to please women, and even if it wasn't particularly stimulating for him, at least it didn't actually hurt. But then he'd seen the husband, felt the man's hot mouth on his neck, and his brain had shut down entirely, he'd forgotten that being owned by a man meant either the pain and degradation of being fucked or the loneliness and humiliation of not being fucked, and when the seductive voice, breathless with lust and laughter, had asked the question-- would you like me to buy you?-- he'd, well, answered.

Of course, the saner parts of his mind had been yapping at his heels ever since-- you thought it was fun being ignored and sold by people you weren't attracted to, wait until he gets tired of you vying with he's a fucking man, you moron, and you're not going to be looking into those bedroom eyes when his cock is splitting your little ass open. But it was very hard to hear those voices when he was actually clasped in the arms of the most gorgeous creature he'd ever seen, being alternately kissed and interrogated, his lungs filled with the intoxicating scent of Holden's skin. As now.

"Yves?" said Holden.

Yves, snapping back to reality, looked up expectantly. "Master?"

"Listen," said Holden, his dark eyes serious. Yves still couldn't look at the man without losing his breath a little. "None of that was your fault. It was his, because he didn't explain what was about to happen. So I'm going to explain what's about to happen."

Yves nodded resignedly, trying to look grateful. Somehow, the topic of penetration having been raised, he didn't think he was about to hear his own best-case scenario, which would have involved his master explaining that he was content to leave his freshly purchased pleasure slave unravished indefinitely while continuing the kissing, necking, pouncing, cock-sucking, co-sleeping, cuddling and endless sweet talk unabated. Yves supposed he should count himself lucky that Holden had waited this long. What else was a slave boy for, after all?

As if in answer to his unspoken thought, his master licked seductively along the line of Yves' jaw and nibbled his earlobe. Yves moaned softly.

"Okay," Holden said, pulling back. "Sorry. Lost my concentration for a second. Here's what's about to happen. I'm going to ask you to go clean yourself up-- no, not now, idiot, let me finish-- and I'm going to be waiting for you when you come back, and I'm going to be hard as a fucking rock-- in fact, I already am, just looking at you, and having you this close, and thinking about it." He took Yves' hand and put it to his cloth-covered groin, and Yves' own cock jumped even as his trepidation increased. "Then I'm going to tell you to lie down on your face on the bed, and I'm going to just stroke you for awhile, to relax you, because as you may or may not know, being scared makes you clench up and makes it hurt more to have something push inside you."

Yves nodded, smiling a little despite himself. He'd never belonged to anyone who'd talked this much. Not to him, anyway.

"And you are going to be tense at first. But I'm going to pet you and cuddle you and kiss you and talk sweet to you till you're so relaxed you're rippling instead of breathing."

Yves giggled. "Yes, master?"

"That's right-- and then there's going to be a minute where I'm not touching you but I'm still talking to you about how I can't believe how fucking lucky I am and couldn't believe it the second I walked into that blind old bitch's showroom and saw you standing there, how I thought right then that I'd never seen anything so mouthwateringly beautiful, and that was even before you lifted up your eyes, and before I heard your sweet husky voice. And you're going to be thinking, hmm, he's talked about my eyes before, but not my voice, I didn't know he liked my voice particularly, I should make noise, I guess, when he fucks me, which I kind of hope he does soon and just gets it over with--"

Yves' eyes met Holden's, startled, and Holden winked at him with hardly a pause in his talk.

"--and then my hand's going to be on your ass, all slippery, because you know I'm not going to make you beg for lube, right. And you're going to have to try really hard not to tense up again, because you're going to be remembering that sick old fuck's fingers shoving inside you and how scared you were and how you were crying and it made him angry. And you're going to realize you've never cried in front of me and you're going to wonder what I'd do if you did, and you're going to think you don't think it would make me angry, maybe I'd even gather you up and hold you and rock you and kiss you and-- you're going to be trying to distract yourself, see, so you don't clench up when you feel where my fingers are--"

Holden's hand slid under Yves, cupping the curve of his ass through his tunic, and Yves' cock jumped again.

"-- and how one of them is right there. And you'll know I'm about to slip it in you, but just one finger, it's not going to be too much, even though you're so tight. One finger. I don't even have thick fingers, see?" He held up his free hand in front of Yves' face, and Yves, swallowing, dutifully examined the fingers, which he'd seen enough of already to know they weren't thick. "And it's going to be very slippery from the lubricant, and you're going to be fairly relaxed still because I haven't made any sudden moves yet, and this won't be sudden either, it will slide in, and in, and deeper in, and then pull back a little and then slip in again, like I'm fucking you with my finger. And it will feel weird but it won't hurt, and after a minute or so, once you settle into it, it might actually feel kind of good, but you still won't be particularly anxious for me to slip in a second finger, though that would be better than going straight from one finger to my cock, because even though my cock's not huge or anything-- no, I see you fixing your mouth to lie to me like a good little slave, don't do it, I've been around, I've come to terms--"

Yves didn't just giggle this time, even though he wasn't sure he should be laughing so hard until Holden grinned back at him.

"--still, you're going to be very busy worrying about how much it's going to hurt, even though I'm being gentle, plus making whatever dutiful oh-yes-I-love-it noises you think you ought to make because I told you you had a sweet voice, and you're not really going to be listening to me because all I've been talking so far is sweet nothings. So it's going to take a little while before you realize I'm telling you that even though it's got me so fucking hard to feel you from the inside like this, and to watch your face while I slide my finger in and out of you, I'm going to take it slow, and when I say slow, I mean that my plan after all that elaborate rigmarole was actually just to fuck you with one little finger for awhile and then stop and roll you over on your back and climb on top of you and kiss you to pieces and do everything you love until my mouth's around your cock and I hear your stomach growling and realize I'm a terrible master because you're so fucking sexy I forget we both need to eat. And tomorrow--"

Again Yves lifted his eyes to his master's, and Holden leaned in to kiss him on the lips, lingeringly, before pulling back and resuming.

"--tomorrow we'll do it again. And maybe the day after tomorrow I'll put in a second finger. Maybe. I haven't decided and I don't know how long it's going to take but I know that by the time I do slide my cock inside you I want you to be as fucking hot and crazy for it as I already am. I want you to have been thinking about it, about how one finger felt good and two fingers felt good and my average-sized cock you're not going to lie to me about is going to feel so fucking good when I finally decide I'm ready, you're ready, we're both ready and horny as hell, because even though I know you'd say it right now if I wanted you to, I want you to really mean it and I want to be able to hear the whine and the need in it when you finally say please, master, please fuck me."

On the last words, his master's hand closed around Yves' own half-erect cock, and Yves gasped, still staring into the dark brown eyes, barely breathing.

"Did you get all that?" Holden asked gravely.

"I think so, master," said Yves faintly.

"Well, then," said Holden, and kissed him on the tip of the nose. "Why don't you go clean yourself up?"