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"I was told you are a problematic slave..."
That words echoed in Fergal's head, they were making his head spin, like he was about to puke right there, in that way too expensive limousine. He didn't really want to think back at what happened all the other times, but he knew for sure that if it wasn't for Bàlor, he wouldn't be there. He still had many scars on his body, some would probably hunt him for the rest of his life, reminding him all he had gone through, but he had chosen that life to save his family. Luckily he was handsome, many had told him so, but that hadn't stopped them from inflicting him whatever depraved they had wanted.
He was brought back to reality by a sudden slap on his right cheek: it wasn't really hard, he was accostumed to much more pain than that, but it was enough to have him focus on the owner of that hand.
"I'm sorry sir, I..." Perfect, he wanted to give a good impression of himself right from the start and he just stopped listening to his new master.
"I don't care what went on in your head right now, just remember you have to listen when I speak, understood?" Joe wasn't accostumed to giving such orders, so he was still a little softer than he should probably be.
"Yes sir, it won't happen ever again." Fergal felt a bit relief, the guy didn't seem too angry about what just happened, he would surely make sure he kept his promise.
"Good. So, I asked you to come here and kneel in front of me."
The Samoan had already asked the driver to drive slowly and he wouldn't really make Finn do things there, with Paul Heyman there, but he just wanted to see how quick his slave would react, while being careful of not having car accidents. As soon as those words slipped out of Joe's mouth, Fergal took the seatbelt off and did as asked without a second thought: he had already done a mistake, he couldn't do another one right after. He felt Joe's gaze on him, it felt like he was trying to see through the wall Fergal had built, a wall which would help him tame Bálor.
"Put your hands behind your back, slave, like they were tied together."
Joe kept an eye on each and every move Fergal did as he brought the hands right where he wanted and in the same position he was told. Maybe before he spaced out for a moment, but now he was obedient like he should be. Joe licked his lips, still thinking that the decision was the best he could have made. Maybe, after all, it wouldn't be so hard for him to form the slave like he wanted, that was surely interesting. Joe brought a hand to Fergal's chin, propping it up, looking at him directly in the eyes, which made the slave feel intimidated and nervous. Fergal remained still though, keeping the eye contact for a moment, before lowering his gaze. "Paul, tie his hands with his jacket." It didn't take much time before Fergal was another time half naked in front of him and now Joe could enjoy more details of his body. The guy was pretty muscular both on the upper and lower body, and all that black he was wearing only added handsomness to everything. Joe signalled him to turn around, not wanting to waste his voice anymore and he smiled a little, when it happened that fast. That Fergal surely was doing his best at keeping a good profile, after the earlier fail. Joe couldn't be happier than that, Fergal was redeeming himself. Now satisfied, he let Fergal go back at his seat, hands still tied tight behind his back and this time he was able to withstand his gaze. Paul put him the seatbelt on, even without his Tribal Chief asking to do so, since the slave was incapacitated. Fergal let him do as the older man wanted, his gaze wandering now out of the window, to the view which was slowly changing. He kept silence, he had learned that it was better to do so and speak only if questioned or allowed, to not anger his master. His soft and pale skin had endured various punishments for not staying to that rule. Roman's fa was somehow making him uncomfortable, that guy seemed better than all the others, if that happened with someone else, he would have surely been whipped until he was almost bleeding and his back still had some proves of those atrocities. "Follow me." Roman's voice was stern as he stood up and exited the limousine, followed not long after by the slave, after Paul took the belt off of him. The older man followed both, keeping a close eye on Fergal, hoping that he wouldn't be so stupid to try and run away. He didn't seem to have such intentions, but Paul didn't trust him at all; that slave still had to prove him, but most of all Joe, wrong. Fergal silently followed his new master one or two steps behind him, the eyes were taking in how big that mansion was. When they had gotten in the limousine he had understood that the guy was surely way too rich, but now that they were there... Fergal felt like he could get lost way too easily there, but he probably wouldn't even live one of the rooms, so he shouldn't be worried. As they got into the mansion, Fergal could feel overwhelmed by all those expensive things which were literally everywhere, but he didn't have the time to think too much about that, as he felt a muscular arm around his shoulders, before being pushed forward not too rough. He came at stop as soon as he didn't hear the steps anymore, instead he could hear only some speaking and he didn't want to wander around there, without knowing where to go.
"My Tribal Chief, I can come too." Paul definitely was still worried and he didn't want to let Joe alone with that guy.
"Paul, I thank you for bringing me there, being there for me and taking care of everything, but it's now time for you to step aside. I'm new to all of this, but I can handle all of this, and if I ever need something, I'll get to you." Joe looked at his mentor, sounding convincing.
"But Tribal Chief..." Paul hated when he felt so helpless, he had one job and that was serving that boy, helping him and protect him.
"No but, Paul. I really appreciate it and, if my parents should say something, I'll speak to them. I'm not little anymore, I know what I'm doing."
Joe was slowly losing his patience: Paul had never been like that, but the fact that now that slave was in the house didn't mean he had to act so protective. Paul wanted to say something else, but he desisted and nodded, finally leaving both guys alone. Joe sighed with relief and walked past his new slave, expecting him to follow without the need to give an order. The noise of the shoes made him understand that Fergal was indeed doing it and he was pleased with that. Fergal had just come there, but he felt like he wasn't really trusted, especially by that... Paul, if he remembered correctly. He felt like he was doing good, apart from that little accident in the limousine, he had always done what he had been said. They crossed some hallways, before Joe stopped in front of a door and Fergal came to a stop right beside him. The Samoan looked at the guy, his attention drawn to every inch of his pale and naked skin he could see. Finn surely had a really nice skin and body, but Joe didn't have to admire it too much, before they had to get in the room, which basically was an old one which their parents had left for him, before he even had a slave. Joe finally opened the door slowly, the room was dark, but it only took him to press a button, and all rhe lights went on. Fergal looked around the room and the more he saw what was in it, the more a sense of a panick attack reached him. All that his eyes were taking in was so similar to what his previous, the worst out of all the others, had, so it was reminding him about those dark moments.
"Keep him down!"
Fergal didn't exactly know what he had done wrong: in the last days, though, his master had become more unbearable than ever before. Jay White had given him so much punishment that Fergal still felt sore and could probably barely stand, he would know it, if only White would let him stand up a bit. Fergal closed his eyes as he was shoved down hard with the head against the cold surface of that ceiling, he felt four weights over him, pinning him down so that he couldn't escape. As if he even had the strength of trying to get away, plus those four muscular men over him weren't exactly light, so either way he had no chance of escaping. He felt his leather boxers being pulled down and immediately tensed up: why did his Master need to have him pinned down by four of his men to take him? It never happened before and it was quite curious. The answer came as soon as Fergal felt something really cold brushing against his left butt cheek. A shiver went down his spine, followed immediately by panic: what did he want to do? And more important... what did he have in his hand?
Fergal suddenly felt a sharp pain as the blade cut the skin of the butt cheek and he let out a loud scream, which couldn't be heard by anyone else but them. It hurt and burnt like hell, Fergal had tears wetting his cheek, while his master continued that torture relentlessly, not bothered by all the screams, until on top of the left butt cheek there was his symbol: four vertical cuts, plus a fifth which would cross the other ones horizontally in the middle.
"You were surely better than I thought you would."
Jay Withe declared once he was finished: now on the slave's butt cheek there was his symbol, to let understand that Fergal was his. Fergal didn't answer: the pain was unbearable, he could feel blood dripping from the cuts and he felt somehow exhausted. Jay White was happy with the outcome but, since he didn't want that guy to die because of that, he thought for a moment, while his peeps finally got off the slave. Those cuts would slowly turn into scars which would never go away, they would always be there until he died. He got in front of Fergal, kneeling down to get more or less to his level, lifting up his chin: when the guy opened his eyes, Jay could see pure fear in them, but he didn't have the knife in the hand anymore and didn't want to put him through more pain than necessary. Fergal wanted that hand away from his face, but he was feeling overpowered and at the same time he was fearing what other things Jay could do to him if he tried to touch him at that moment. He lowered his gaze, fighting back the other tears which were threatening to come out, the pain radiating from his butt cheek still unbearable. Jay smiled devilishly but finally let him go, stood up and headed out of that basement, leaving Fergal in the darkness, alone.
Fergal felt his heart starting to pound much more in his chest, he felt like he could barely breathe during that flashback. He brought a shaking hand to his neck, eyes wide open, while his chest felt heavier each time he tried to suck in some air. His legs were like jelly, he didn't have the power to keep himself in a standing position, but one arm around his waist prevented him from falling on the ground. It had been a reflex for Joe to reach out to Fergal as he saw him struggling like that; he knew it was better not to touch someone who was having a panick attack, which the slave was definitely having right now, but he couldn't risk him injuring himself. Joe let him go as soon as it seemed his legs could hold him up, even though the panick hadn't left him. He slowly closed the door of the playroom, turning to face Fergal, who was still struggling to breathe decently.
"Breathe with me, Finn."
Joe's voice was soft, he really wanted to help him out, even though he didn't really know what was happening in his mind. He started taking one deep breath, his gaze wandering over the slave's figure and not on his eyes, so he wouldn't feel too pressured; Fergal tried to do as he was told, to follow his lead, but probably the sole thought of where he was, was making it difficult. He bit his lower lip, anxiety building up just at the thought that his new master could be angry at him for that, even though he didn't seem to be.
"Follow me and my breath. I am not angry."
Joe understood that probably staying there wasn't the right choice, he tried to reassure him, kept up with the breathing and as it seemed it was becoming slightly better, he finally moved from there. He walked slowly two steps in front of him, but he would still be able to catch him should his legs let him fall another time. They went in the park to take some fresh air and Joe let him sit down on a bench, remaining in a standing position himself.
"Is it better now?"
Joe didn't really want a proper answer, a simple nod would be more than enough.
"Y-yes... sir..."
Fergal's breathing began to become more steady as he sucked in all the fresh air.
"That's good. Keep on with the deep breaths, the most important thing is that it fades away completely."
Joe's thoughts started wandering somewhere else, to what could have happened that made him have a panic attack, but it was hard to tell.
"I'm really sorry sir. I'm not like this normally."
The slave was feeling always better, but now the guilty of what happened started to sunk in.
"Like I already said: I'm not angry."
They had to work on many things, Joe hadn't thought it could be that difficult to have a personal sexual slave, but he would figure something out. He had taken Fergal under his wings because he liked him and a panic attack wouldn't make Joe change his mind. Maybe he could simply rearrange the playroom, or just decide on another big room, where he could bring what he really needed, that was an option for sure.
Fergal forced a little smile on his lips at those words: it seemed like that Master was doing his best to be understanding, probably because of his young age. He didn't feel ready to tell him all that happened with his previous masters, especially with Jay Withe, but he was sure that he would have some other moments just like that one. He would bear the scar with his symbol forever, but Fergal just wanted to forget that older guy. Maybe that Tribal Chief, like Joe was called, was a better master for him than anyone else would ever be, or had ever been to him before, but his days there had just barely started, so he couldn't tell exactly.
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