Page 3 of Noah
Leaving Johann is a betrayal. His master will be so angry if Noah leaves.
But how can he stay?
He shivers from a combination of the weather and dread. His breath fogs in front of him, and there’s a threat of snow in the air.
He stares at the front door of the apartment building he might get to move into, and even though he doesn’t want to think about Johann and the final incident that has led him to try to escape, he does.
He can’t help it. He doesn’t want to think about it, and so of course it’s there, ready to drift before his eyes and obsess his thoughts.
It was a simple thing. And if his master had valued him at all then he wouldn’t have reacted the way he did. That’s what Noah needs to remember. No one valued would be treated like he was.
Anyway, all Noah had done was have a look at the noticeboard on the wall of their local kink club. Innocuous enough. But, Johann had caught him staring, had seen something on his face that meant he was seriously interested in finding something, anything that wasn’t his master, and he’d put a hand around Noah’s throat and another on his still bruised ribs and had asked him very gently what it was he was looking at.
Johann’s gentle voice is terrifying. Noah’s reaction at this point is Pavlovian. Nausea and breaking out into a cold sweat.
He’d tried to say he was thinking about putting up an ad for new clients, wanting to teach a self-defense class. His master laughed and moved a little closer, letting Noah feel the start of his growing erection. And Noah had flinched.
His master took it as a sign of interest.
Master loved that Noah taught self-defense classes. He thought it was hilarious. So funny that Noah taught other people how to keep themselves safe when he didn’t do it for himself. Risk-taking and activities guaranteed to give him an adrenaline rush were what Noah had wanted when he was younger.
Younger and stupider. At the ripe old age of 25, he isn’t sure what he wants now. He’s living a lifestyle he’s always wanted and it’s hell. Where does Noah even go from there?
“What would you say on this flier, my vapid little slut?”
“I…I don’t know.”
Johann’s fingers had pressed firmly against his ribs and Noah’d gone light-headed with pain.
“You’d ask me then, wouldn’t you? Don’t I know what’s best for you?”
“Yes…master. I’d be…grateful for whatever advice you had.”
Master gentled his touch, and Noah had been so fucking grateful he’d pressed back in gratitude. Once upon a time, he’d have wanted harder, might have gotten hard from that hard hand on his throat and the cold, cruel voice in his ear, but lately, and especially at that moment, the desire for a bit of kindness had screamed through him, and he’d have begged for it if he’d thought it would get him what he wanted.
“Well, it wouldn’t be advice now, would it? It’d be an instruction. You come to my club and you’re my filthy whore and you want to advertise on my board, don’t you think you should let me help you?”
“Yes. I thought maybe you wouldn’t have time,” Noah said, thinking desperately. It was getting harder and harder to say the right thing to his master. To placate him. Noah had so many flaws. His master was always having to make exceptions for his stupid behavior and clumsiness. And yet, long ago, the last thing he’d say about himself was that he was clumsy or stupid. What if he isn’t? His friend Will didn’t think he was stupid.
“I’m always grateful when you can help me.”
“I know. No bigger whore than you, is there?”
The agreement stuck in his throat. “I don’t know.” Because sometimes he was supposed to be a slut or a whore and sometimes he got kicked if he was a slut or a whore and really the answer seemed to change all the damned time.
“Good answer. You don’t need to know. You’re getting me hard, aren’t you? Let’s think about what you’d say and then you’re going to bend over and take a load in that sloppy hole of yours.”
He hadn’t wanted to. But that’s the problem when one is a slave. That’s the game. The trick and purpose. How does one make peace with doing what they don’t want to? Where does the motivation come from? The devotion or love? Noah used to be able to find it.
He just can’t find it anymore. He looks inside himself and there’s nothing to call upon. No strength or conviction or love.
His master had used him in front of everyone. In a way that had been degrading and misery-inducing and frightening and he’d had to go home early. He’d gone back to the apartment he shared with master and for some unknown reason, he’d looked around and decided he didn’t want to be there anymore. He just couldn’t. Maybe it was his cage in the corner, the door open as if in invitation.
Or maybe it was the hollowness inside.
And then Will had called, and for the first time in months, he’d answered. Master hadn’t liked Will and so he’d stopped taking his calls. And he’d started checking Noah’s phone, wanting to make sure Noah was being obedient.
Talking to Will after so many months of being master’s slave had been odd. Will had sounded so…certain. He’d told Noah that Noah needed to get out, and even though it’s cowardly to just obey Will and go to the meeting he’s set up, even though it isn’t really his own idea or his own momentum, it’s all he’s got.
