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Heavy Rain ( 2010 )

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The Slave

Chapter 1: The Shop      

        Takashi Shirogane was a man who enjoyed the finer things in life. As an alpha from a moderately wealthy family, he had always known that he was destined for greatness. He had achieved just that early on when his parents had passed away, leaving him in charge of the family business. At the age of seventeen, he took Shirogane Industries from a small family owned business to a multi-million dollar company with ties to several other countries and a hold on the stock market . His net worth was estimated to be anywhere between 20 to 30.3 billion dollars, and at eighteen, he was hailed as a natural businessman.         

        There was one area in which he was regrettably lacking, however, and that was relationships. His father had often told him that whatever omega he were to chose would have to be worthy of being his mate. Now in his early twenties, he was still single, and if he was being honest, he was starting to lose hope that he would ever be able to find one. That’s what had brought him here, to the sleazy little slave shop downtown.       

        He pursed his lips as he entered the building, taking in the musky smell of sex and distressed omega pheromones. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, he slowly glanced through the cages, examining each slave carefully. Most of them were beaten and beyond help. Having suffered through years of abuse, these second hand slaves no longer were capable of independence and would require around the clock care to even survive. A few mumbled dully to themselves and others just stared blankly off into space, none of these held his interest. The alpha had always been competitive and he enjoyed a challenge, so having a slave that still had some fight in them was ideal, that being said as he neared the back of the shop, disappointment welled inside of him. He had been wanting to come here for quite awhile, but from the looks of things, this place was a waste of his time.           

     Just as he was about to leave, his eyes fell upon a much younger slave. He was beautiful, with brown hair, sun kissed skin and long slender features. Maybe eighteen or nineteen at the most, he lay motionless on the floor of his cage, wearing nothing but a tattered pair of shorts. His eyes were closed and for a moment, he wondered if the slave was dead and he tapped experimentally on the bars to see if he would respond.               

        At the sound of tapping, the boy’s startling ocean blue eyes snapped open and he glared up at Shiro, baring his teeth defensively. Obviously still full of life, the young slave backed up against the bars and growled, keeping his eyes locked on Shiro.          

        Before the situation could progress any further, a large muscular man stepped out from the back, wiping his hands on a black apron that hung around his waist. Noticing Shiro, he strode over to him, “To what do I owe the pleasure of having Takashi Shirogane in my humble shop?” He asked in a deep voce, eyes flickering between him and the boy.     

       Shiro took a step back and narrowed his eyes, irritated that he had been recognized. “How much is this one here?” he asked, motioning to the still growling omega, “if possible I’d like to purchase him today, discreetly,” he said, adding emphasis to the last word.  

       The man laughed, turning his attention to the boy who hissed, pressing himself further in the corner. “I know the idea of a unbroken slave is ideal, but he’s been returned to me four times already. You might want to sleep on that decision. However, if you insist on buying him, he is quite expensive, you’ll want to keep him nice and stuffed, his energy level is quite high, and he is very aggressive for an omega. I will allow you to take him home today - for fifteen thousand dollars, that is.”    

       Shiro eyed the slave once more and nodded, “A trouble maker huh?” He laughed dismissively. “I’d like to purchase him right now. I’ll even throw in an extra five thousand, consider it a tip for your service…and your silence.” There was a hint of a threat in his tone and the shopkeeper picked up on it almost immediately and he nodded apprehensively.      

       “Of course sir,” he replied tentatively, “I’ll go grab his paperwork and a collar.”               

        Shiro nodded, watching the man leave the room. When he was sure that he was gone, he knelt down to address the boy. “Do you have a name?” he asked, eyes taking in the slave’s slender frame. Without warning, the boy lashed against the cage, growling ferociously, and reached between the bars in an attempt to wound his new master, who backed up just in time.                    Returning in time to catch the omega in action, the shopkeeper stomped over, drawing a blunt wooden instrument out of his belt. “Don’t you ever do that again!” he roared spraying the omega with spittle and thrusting the wood between the bars of the cage. The boy jumped and retreated further into the back, breathing heavily and glowering at both of them.         

       Offering Shiro a hand, the shopkeeper helped him up and returned the instrument to his belt. “Sorry about that. What set him off?”        

       Shiro looked back at the omega and rubbed his wrist, “I asked him if he had a name,” he replied, “I heard that most slaves are stripped of their names and kept so drugged up that they don’t remember them, and I wanted to see if he remembered his.”         

       The shopkeeper pursed his lips and shook his head, “His name is Lance, but he won’t answer to it. You can rename him yourself but I doubt it will do you any good. Not even a proper beating will get him to speak and at this point, I often wonder if he’s a mute.” He shook his head and faced Shiro, changing the subject, “now, as for the price, write me a check and I’ll hand him over.” The boy cautiously approached the bars of the cage, aware that he was in the process of being purchased again.         

       “Lance,” Shiro mused, pulling out his checkbook and hastily scribbling out the allotted price. He could tell by the way the omega was staring at him, that he could understood what they were were saying and though the omega had never spoken to the shopkeeper, something in his gut told him that Lance was just holding out on them.          

       Pocketing the check,  the shopkeeper approached the cage again, fitting the key into the lock. “Alright, he’s all yours.” Grabbing Lance’s arms, the man hooked a leather collar around his neck and pulled him out. The cage was rather small and it had been quite some time since he had been able to stand properly, so while leaving his prison was an exciting thought, Lance’s legs instantly screamed in protest and gave out underneath him. Before the shop keeper could make another move, Shiro strode forward and held the slave up under his arms, allowing him to get used to his newfound freedom.        

        “I’ll take it from here thanks.” Shiro said as Lance stretched out his legs in order to stand. The shopkeeper nodded and walked back towards the counter as Shiro led Lance out of the shop and away from his old life.         

       Standing in the blinking sunlight for the first time in ages, Lance wasn’t exactly sure what to do. He could try to run, but his legs were still rather stiff and he knew he wouldn’t make it very far. Lance was startled out of his thoughts when Shiro finally stopped in front of an expensive looking car.        

       Rearranging his grip around Lance, the alpha dug through his pockets and pulled out a set of keys which he used to unlock the car. He carefully placed Lance in the back seat, and closed the door, before walking around to the otherside of the car and settling himself into the front seat.      

       There was a few moments of silence before Shiro finally spoke, addressing the omega through the rearview mirror, “So, according to the man in the shop, your name is Lance.” When the omega remained silent, Shiro paused, abruptly starting up the car and pulling out of the shadowed driveway. “My name is Takashi Shirogane, I know this all must be a huge blur to you, and I understand that it will take some time for you to get used to me.” Shiro said, casually glancing back through the mirror. “But do try to behave, will you? It would be a shame to start off our new relationship with hostility.” When the slave didn’t answer, Shiro felt a wave of frustration wash over him. Though he started off almost every morning repeating the mantra, “patience yields focus,” to himself in the mirror, he wasn’t an extremely patient man, and one of his many flaws was that he was quick to anger.      

        “Will you not speak?” he asked gripping the steering wheel tightly, resisting the urge to yell.        

       There was another moment of silence before Lance finally opened his mouth, “I’ll speak when I feel like it, not because you order me to,” he said, voice cracking from lack of use.        

       Shiro was silent, he had to admit that he was surprised enough that the slave had even answered, so much so that he wasn’t immediately angry. “I see,” he responded after a few moments. “Well, I guess we’ll have to change that.”               

        Mulling over his new master’s words, the slave once again fell silent. He had no idea what was in store for him, but there was something that set this man apart from his previous owners. He was confident and well groomed and something in Lance’s gut told him that if he wasn’t careful, he might just end up like the rest of those nameless slaves back at the shop. The rest of the car ride was spent in silence as Lance tried to picture what fate had in store for him this time.

—–

This is a late birthday gift for the lovely and talented @jaspurrlock!

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Okay okay okay. Hear me out… But please watch this. My friend sent me this from musically. It’s funny as heck. @therealjacksepticeye

All rights go to whoever made this video!!! I do not own it!! {Note; if this is yours and you wish for it not to be posted here, dm me and I will remove my post!}

When I was in highschool, the “weird kid” was a guy who thought he was a vampire werewolf hybrid. He was aggressive and hostile, and the people who tried to be nice to him,(myself included) saw first hand how psychotic he was. He choked one of my friends, tried to attack a girl I hung out with, ran around campus snarling at people and jumping off roofs, and constantly got into fights with anyone who so much as talked back to him.

Saying that the victims from Parkland shooting are at fault because they didn’t befriend the shooter is incredibly short sided and a perfect example of victim blaming. Sometimes the weird kid is toxic and violent, or racist and homophobic. Nobody should have to be forced or guilted into bringing that type of toxicity into their lives.

Also, please don’t pretend that you really care about the weird kid all of a sudden. We all can see that you are trying whatever bs tactic you can think of to distract from the bigger issue at hand; gun violence and gun control in America.

STOP BLAMING THE VICTIMS AND STOP TRYING TO BULLY KIDS INTO SILENCE!

GIRL WYD????? DUMP HIM.

Right. I’m a Leo!