Service Ch. 05: Penance

Mike closed the car door and approached the house. It was unexpectedly dark, but then he was home later than he had intended. The paperwork at the office had taken far longer than he had hoped, and it was more than likely Greg, or Master G, was long gone home and The Slave was sound asleep.

It was nearing midnight.

He paused on the porch and sighed, feeling the weight of his briefcase pulling him down. A part of him was glad Greg had already left.

He was exhausted.

He didn't have the energy for a long night in the dungeon. He just wanted to take The Slave to bed and hold him in his arms while they slept.

The thought of his Slave caused his cock to stir and Mike smiled, opening the door and stepping inside.

The kitchen was still a mess, as was the dining room, where only a single plate had been used. Mike had stopped at a burger joint on his way home, a rarity for him. He much preferred his Slaves cooking to eating out, but sometimes there were no other options.

The Slave was nowhere in sight and Mike turned toward the basement dungeon. He flipped on the light and stepped onto the old wooden steps. The basement was one of the things that had drawn him to the house. It was large, old, and had a number of readily available attachment points.

He had put a great deal of money into transforming it into a fully functioning dungeon, and then he had found The Slave and they had made sure to put it to good use.

Mike had lost count of the nights they had spent together in the dungeon, pleasuring one another with the odd punishment for spice. He felt his cock grow harder as he thought about their sessions, but it immediately went soft as he ducked into the dungeon and saw his Slave.

He was bound securely to the spanking bench, his toes tied to expose the sole of his feet. They were bright red and streaked with dried blood. So was his ass. Worst of all though, was the sensory deprivation hood he wore. The Slave was extremely claustrophobic, and the hood was his worst nightmare given form. They had only used it once, and even then, only for a short time.

Mike cursed and ran to his side, cursing again when he saw the small padlock at the back. He frantically searched for the keys. Finding them in the cabinet, he went back to The Slave, opening the padlock and desperately pulling at the laces.

The Slaves' eyes were red with tears, distant and vacant.

"Reese," he whispered. "Reese, come back to me."

The Slave blinked slowly, looking at him with unseeing eyes. Mike quickly began undoing the leather belts that held him in place, untying the string that was turning his big toes purple.

The Slave didn't make a sound as Mike gathered him into his arms and carried him upstairs to their bedroom. He laid him on the bed and reached for the phone in his jacket pocket, dialing Jake.

Jake was a doctor and catered to those in the community when they couldn't see a regular doctor. He and Mike had become friends over the years, even sharing slaves occasionally, so it was not a surprise when he picked up on the first ring. Mike explained what was happening and Jake agreed to come immediately.

Mike moved to go start cleaning up the kitchen when he felt a hand in his. He turned to see The Slave, holding his hand out with tears in his eyes.

"Master?"

"I'm here, Pet."

Mike laid down beside The Slave and wrapped him in a hug as sobs racked his slight frame. He stroked his hair, trying to calm him as he felt his own tears threatening to escape.

He never should have left him alone with Greg.

He had heard the rumors, but they had seemed too farfetched to believe. How he had put his last slave into hospital for nearly a month, or how he had beaten a man into a coma, but he had never found any scrap of evidence to support the accusations. So, he had let the man into his home, and now he had paid the price.

"I'm sorry, Master," The Slave whimpered between sobs.

"You have nothing to be sorry for, pet. This was all my fault."

The Slave began sobbing again, and Mike pulled him closer. "I'm sorry, Pet, I'm so sorry."

The Slave had finally quieted and was close to sleep when the doorbell caused him to stiffen in Mike's arms.

"It's alright Pet. I called the Doc. It's just the Doc."

The Slave nodded and relaxed again as Mike stood and went to answer the door.

Doctor Jake Weiss was an older man, but well skilled and thoroughly trusted in the community. Though past his prime, he could still hold his own with younger men, he just didn't go to the clubs anymore, instead spending his nights at home and relying on word of mouth for new patients.

He greeted Mike like an old friend before following him upstairs to the bedroom.

Mike sat next to the Slave and took his hand, watching as the Doc performed his examination. The Slave whimpered as the Doc gently probed his bruised and bloodied feet and Mike felt his heart shattering, watching the fresh tears in his Pet's eyes, knowing he had caused them.

At last the Doc stood up.

"Take him for a bath Mike, get him cleaned up, then I will bandage everything."

Mike nodded and turned to gather the Slave into his arms, being careful not to touch the open wounds. He carried him down the hallway to the bathroom and laid him in the tub, adjusting the water carefully before putting the plug in and letting the tub fill.

The Slave whimpered as the water hit his wounds and Mike felt the anger rising again, but he fought to push it down, focusing his attention on his Pet.

He cleaned the wounds as gently as he could, seeing in the stark light of the bathroom, the dark bruises that he had not caused. Mike worked quickly, but gently to clean the wounds, then let the water go, waiting for the tub to drain before he wrapped the Slave in a towel and lifted him from the tub, carrying him back to the bedroom where the Doc was waiting.

As promised, he bandaged the wounds, and gave the Slave some pain meds and a sleeping pill. Mike stayed with him until he slept, then followed the Doc out to the kitchen.

"You don't have to do that," he said, taking a seat as he watched Jake load the dishwasher.

"I like to keep busy. You want to tell me what happened?"

"I was an idiot," Mike said quietly. He tried not to cry as he told the story, knowing everything that had happened was his fault.

"So, what are you going to do now?" Jake asked, pouring them both a scotch before making their way to the living room.

"I don't know."

"Have you thought about calling the cops?"

"And tell them what? You know our lifestyle is not exactly acceptable to the general population."

"There have to be exceptions, Mike. I know you're angry, and I know you blame yourself, but you have to handle this properly. Do you have any idea how many rumours there are going around about this man? Do you know how many times I've been called to houses in the middle of the night after he's done unspeakable things?"

There was an unexpected anger in the doctor's voice that surprised Mike.

"This bastard needs to be put behind bars before he hurts anyone else, and you and Reese can make sure that happens."

"But not through the cops," Mike said stubbornly. "That has never done any of us any good."

"What else is there?"

"How much deniability do you want?"

"I am already in this too deep. What do you have in mind?"

"Well Doc, I think it may be time we give that bastard a taste of his own medicine, so to speak."