Chapter Text
Mickey adjusts his dick as he walks out of the alley, not at all satisfied with the mediocre blowjob he just received. He shouldn’t complain though, the guy was willing and that’s all Mickey needs in order to get off. He knows he has to be careful about where he gets his release, which is why he agreed to be the one that handles all his father's business at the market. It’s generally the only time he has to himself where he can get off without the risk of getting caught.
Everything is at the market, but this one, in particular, is for a select clientele. Mickey can still remember the first time his dad brought him along for a trade, the sights before him shocking for a fourteen-year-old.
“Chin up. Weakness around here will get you robbed, killed, or worse, kidnapped to be sold.”
Mickey listens to his father's order, the child in him still seeking his father’s approval.
“Soon you’ll be coming here on your own, so you need to learn the ropes.” They keep walking past all the stalls of people that look like they are on the most wanted list.
“Over there is where you go for weapons, but don’t let Larry try to fucking sell you anything. That dog is a lying fuck who is owed a beat down after he sold us registered guns last month. You speak with Trent and only Trent, you hear me?”
Mickey nods his head, looking in the direction his father is pointing at and having no idea which men he is referring to.
“Our guy is up ahead, Tommy. He’s a prick, but he sells good shit at a rate that lets us increase the cost to make a decent percentage of our money back without buyers going somewhere cheaper.”
He knows he should be concentrating but his surroundings have him distracted. Among the typical guns, drugs, weapons and counterfeit goods sits an array of things Mickey has never seen before.
There are people selling what looks to be torture devices, drugs that are used for more than just getting someone high and what Mickey could only assume are mercenaries for hire. He sees people making deals and giving him a side eye glare when he’s caught staring too long, as well as exotic animals that should be in the wild, instead of here where they’re caged like some kind of trophy or pet. But what stops Mickey in his tracks is when he’s eyes catch sight of the people that are caged, naked, tied up, and gagged.
He isn’t sure how long he had stopped to look at what’s before him, but a slap to the back of the head indicates it was long enough to upset Terry.
“Quick staring, kid. Sex slaves get off from the attention.”
“Sex slaves?”
“As I said, you mess around in this place and you could end up like one of em.”
Terry’s voice cuts through him like a knife as he sees women with their legs tied to each side of a cage so his eyes have a view straight into their pussy. Men sitting there with their dicks caged, looking as beaten as Mickey has felt after Terry has released his rage on him, but what he notices most is some of them don’t look any older than he is.
“What did they do?” Mickey has to ask, fear of one day being in their shoes.
“Most likely they owe a debt, or someone they know owes one. The men are probably fags and the women are no doubt sluts, caught giving it to someone else when they were meant to be loyal. Either way, you end up here, this is what the rest of your life looks like. Once you’re a slave, you’re always a slave.”
He doesn’t ask any more questions and Terry is obviously done with the conversation as he pushes Mickey’s head, his way of saying ‘move the fuck on.’
Mickey avoids making eye contact as he walks the familiar market that he’s been attending alone since he was sixteen. It’s notorious for moving locations in the blink of an eye, but somehow Terry always knows where to send him. It wasn’t until he was seventeen that he began using the market for his own use, buying weapons that he could stash away, drugs that helped him escape when Terry was too much, but most of all, he used it to find someone that could help him get off without Terry finding out.
It wasn’t long after his first visit to the market that Mickey realised he found men more attractive than women. As he watched his dad salivate at that caged women’s pussy, Mickey couldn’t help but admire the man beside her, curious about his body and toned muscle. It wasn’t the fact that he was caged and vulnerable that grabbed Mickey’s attention, it was simply his features that caught Mickey’s eye.
Porn turned into Mickey watching the men more than the women and after he came harder than a rocket when he was more focused on the guy-on-guy ad playing beside the video he had originally clicked on, Mickey had to come to the realisation that he was gay.
A year ago, on his eighteenth birthday, Mickey treated himself to a day-long fuck fest, waiting in the alley for anyone and everyone that came towards him begging to be bent over. He walked home, Terry proud when Mickey told him the lie he concocted about using the well-known whore in their neighbourhood before retreating to his bedroom to rest.
But today he’s running late, which is why accepting a blowjob was all he had time for. Mickey had a pocket full of cash that he had to deliver to Tommy which Terry owed him after purchasing a large quantity of product in advance at their last transaction. Years of loyalty granted Terry the privilege of making a purchase with the promise of paying at their next transaction, but if Tommy didn’t receive his money today, that loyalty would be forgotten.
He stops walking as he hears his phone go off, checking it, well aware that it’s going to be Terry.
SpermDoner: Make sure you let Tommy know we want the same amount at our next purchase.
SpermDoner: And hurry the fuck back.
Mickey replies with a simples ‘yes, sir,’ not in the mood to be a smartass and risk getting a beating the next time he sees Terry. He pockets his phone, takes out a cigarette and lights up, allowing the nicotine to burn his lungs and relieve the stress that the warm mouth he just had around his dick was supposed to take care of. He looks at the area he is standing in, unaware that he has stopped near the one place he always tries to avoid.
Sex slaves.
Looking as broken and haunted as they did five years ago. It’s not a surprise to see the same look on a new selection of young bodies, exposed and on display for the next person to select and buy.
After his first and only encounter with sex slaves, when Terry first explained them to him, Mickey couldn’t help but try and find further information about their existence. Unsurprised, he found nothing. The internet was a bust that left him with one option, word of mouth, which was risky.
Mickey didn’t want to come across as a person interested in the slave life or considering making a purchase, though he is sure he’d struggle to find the money if he was. No, he just wanted to understand how these people ended up in that kind of situation. Thankfully he found ways to slip sentences into a conversation with people he was dealing to or making purchases from. Simple phrases like;
“Did you see the new meat over there?”
“Must be nice having someone to service you whenever you want.”
“Probably used up and covered in STDs”
Sometimes he only received a grunt or a huff in response, but other times, people wanted to be chatty. This is how he learnt that the slave business was run by someone higher up and the sales clerk that acts all smug when a purchase is being made is merely following orders. Mickey wasn’t surprised to find out that whomever these people are that come to make a purchase are generally doing it for someone with a bit more class. A person that is enough of a low-life to know these markets exist but are high enough in society to afford the luxury of owning a slave.
Somehow there are people out there who know about sex slaves and how to acquire one, treating them as though it’s some secret society among owners. But the one thing almost every single person can confirm when they start to get chatty around Mickey is that once a person becomes a slave, they’ll always be a slave.
Mickey would make sure not to make contact with any of the slaves or the guy that sells them whenever he visits the market, but today, as he places his phone away and allows his eyes to quickly scan over the used and battered bodies, someone catches his eye.
He walks past a brunet woman that looks a few years older than him with smudged makeup and a ballgag in her mouth. Shibari rope is tied around her thighs, arms and tits, making them look like they are about to burst. He walks past her only to see yet another woman with a chastity belt on, a sign claiming she is an untouched virgin for sale, but then Mickey stops when he sees the person that possesed his body to walk over.
A redheaded boy is curled up in a cage that can barely contain him, the cage size is vastly smaller than the boy himself. Mickey crouches down, looking closer at the broken boy in rags, bruises a shade of purple evident on his skin. Mickey swallows the rage that is surprisingly bubbling inside of him, knowing that there are most likely more marks in areas that the shredded clothing is covering.
There is a collar around his neck, something none of the other slaves are wearing and as the sun moves from behind a cloud, Mickey can make out finger marks on the guy's neck, poking out from beneath the collar.
He studies the boy, and as he looks past the evidence of abuse, he can’t help but notice some form of familiarity. His hair is cut short, what looks to be a buzz cut on the sides with just enough left on top for Mickey to run his fingers through. It dawns on him though that his last owner must have styled it that way so he had something to grip onto.
Pale skin as white as his own makes the bruises stand out even more, the contrast between white and purple making them pop. But as Mickey looks closer, he can see freckles littering his body, the ugliness of pain covering something of beauty.
“See something you like?”
The sleazy salesman walks toward` Mickey after he's spent longer than he should have scanning over this guy’s body.
“Ahhh, I see the redhead has caught your eye.”
Mickey stands up, holding himself tall as he sizes up the guy before him.
“What happened to him?
“Punishment. This one had trouble obeying.”
“Had?”
The sleaze ball smirks. “Don’t worry, his last owner broke him in real good, he won’t be an issue.”
“Then why’s he for sale?”
“He prefers the task of training new slaves rather than keeping them once they are complacent.”
Whoever this guy’s last owner was, he sounds like a real sadist. Mickey puts his hands in his pocket, trying to hide the fists they have automatically formed as he looks back down at the redhead. He doesn’t know what it is about the boy, but he can’t stop looking at him, hating how fragile his body looks as he lies lifeless in the cage.
Suddenly it clicks, he understands why he is so drawn to this stranger. It’s because Mickey knows him. Not in the sense that they have hung out or even would know each other by name, because he doesn’t, but Mickey has seen this kid before, around his neighbourhood in what feels like lifetimes ago. He remembers him with floppy hair that looked like a reddish brown compared to the orange-red he has now. Mickey recalls seeing him in an army uniform around school while he would deal under the bleachers. He remembers that he always saw this guy smiling as bright as the sun, as though nothing could tear him down. And yet here he is, looking smaller now than he did back then, and as though he could sense Mickey’s eyes looking down at him, the boy finally moves for the first time since he walked over, Mickey seeing how his green eyes look sad and lost as they lock onto Mickey.
A loud kick to the cage startles the slave. “Eyes down, whore. Your owner taught you better than that.”
Mickey clenches his jaw as he sees the redhead quickly obey the order. It gives Mickey the desire to punch this asshole in the face for provoking fear in the boy. As though he suddenly has no control of his body, words fall from Mickey’s mouth before he can stop them.
“How much?”
The question causes the redhead to look up at him as the sweaty fuck before Mickey looks back at him as though dollar signs are in front of his eyes.
“Eight.”
It takes longer than it should for Mickey to realise what the guy is saying.
“Eight thousand?!” The words are almost yelled from the shock.
“He’s well trained. Will do anything you ask of him. Perks of being a two-year-old slave.”
“Two ye-…how old is he?”
“Just shy of seventeen. Perfect age for ripe fruit.”
Mickey wants to be sick. What this kid has endured from the age of fifteen has him spiralling. At first, he wasn’t sure what possessed him to enquire about purchasing this kid, but after hearing how long he’s been living this life, he knows walking away is no longer an option. No one deserves a life like this.
He doesn’t have that kind of money and he knows he never will, at least not before some other sick fuck walks by and decides this redhead will be perfect as his next plaything.
His hand brushes over the rolled-up bills in his pockets that he should have delivered to Tommy by now, and he knows if he goes ahead with the stupid plan that is forming in his mind, he’s going to have more issues to deal with the one he has with trying to rescue a stranger he’s never met.
He puts his Milkovich charm to work as he cocks an eyebrow.
“How bout five.”
“Please, walk away before you embarrass yourself.”
“Do I look fuckin’ embarrassed to you?”
“For five I can give you the Russian with small tits.”
“If I wanted to fuck a cunt I’d go down to the whore house? Give me the warm hole I don’t have to worry about impregnating.”
“Fine, seven.”
Mickey rolls his eyes, scratching at his nose to show he is becoming impatient with the games this guy is playing, but every single person that attends the market haggles, no matter what they are buying. However, Mickey still doesn’t have enough money on him to pay such a price, so he plays the last hand he has left.
“Six. Final offer. He may be broken in but by the looks of it, you’re also selling me damaged goods. The money I’ll have to put into this bitch to make sure he is healthy enough to perform is going to cost me that extra G you’re asking for.”
For good measure, Mickey pulls out his phone to look as though he is getting bored with waiting while he internally panics at the several messages from Terry.
“Fine. Six thousand. Any issues you have, it’s on you. I don’t do refunds.”
Mickey reaches for the two rolled-up wads of cash, knowing there’s exactly six thousand dollars in total being passed over as the guy takes his money and unclips the lock on the cage so it can be wheeled away. Mickey accepts the key that’s been handed to him, watching the guy begin to count with a satisfied smile on his face.
Mickey once again crouches down to look at his new purchase.
“Guess I should find out what your name is, don’t think you want to be called Red all the time.”
There is silence. Mickey knows nothing about sex slaves and starts to wonder if he needs an instruction manual.
“It’s okay, you can speak.”
“He can’t.”
Mickey looks up in shock.
“Previous owner bruised his vocal cords right before his exchange. Should be right in a day or two, but really, what does he need a voice for when he still has a perfectly good working mouth.”
He’s had enough of this douchebag. Mickey stands up, stepping behind the cage so he can push it towards his car, getting as far away from this place as possible.
“I got one of my men waiting near the cars to collect my cage. You want that, it’s extra.”
Mickey gives the guy the middle finger.
He has no idea how he’s going to get the kid into his car since he no doubt will be a panicked mess the second Mickey opens the cage, which adds to the challenge of how he is going to get him home.
But all of that seems minor as the realisation sets in that Mickey just purchased a sex slave and not just any sex slave, but a male one at that. If Mickey wasn’t already a dead man, using Terry’s money to pay for the slave will surely put him in a hole six feet deep once Terry finds out.