Sold Into Freedom - 1. Chapter 1

"He's a virgin."

Ralf stared, his hooded eyes locked on the younger man. Beside him was his partner, Tomas. They stood in an unused parking lot, barely lit by the last unbroken street light on the block. It was a clear but moonless night. Their cars sat waiting, the cooling engines ticked.

Lifting his cigarette to his lips, Ralf drew air slowly through it. The white paper crackled, and the tip glowed brightly. "And why should I believe you?"

"Look, he is. I swear." The young guy's movements were like St. Vitus' dance. "He's a fag, but only sucks cock. For the other shit, he's a virgin—never been touched."

Ralf turned to his partner. "What do you think?" He blew smoke through his nose.

"He's young and pretty. We can take a chance." The young man’s car door was open, and Tomas squatted, peering into the dimly lit back seat.

"So how much?" the antsy dancer asked, giggling as he repeated the question. "How much is he worth to you guys?"

Tomas stood up and locked eyes with the twitching informant. "Two hundred."

"Two?" He scowled. "Naw, that's not enough for what I had to do to grab him for ya."

"What did you have to do, Danny?" Tomas sneered. "You freak."

"Hey, fuck you. I can take him to another guy I know. They said they'd give me a thou." Danny shook as he wiped his runny nose on this sleeve.

Ralf, who'd known Danny longer, laughed out loud. "And that right there is why I know you're a lying piece of shit. If you'd been offered that, you wouldn't be here."

"Hey–"

Tomas' frustration flared. "Shut it. Give the freak five."

His bobblehead nodded, and the young man held out his hand while Ralf counted bills onto it. “‘K’, that's fair."

"You better not be lying … that's five hundred." Ralf turned his head to spit. "Else you better keep outta my sight."

Danny curled his lip but then thought better of it. "Ain't no lie, man." The young man shoved the wad of bills into a front pocket. "I know better."

"Get him out of the car, man. We need to go." Tomas moved out of the way.

"Right." Ralf walked to the car, tossing his cigarette as he did. Bending forward, he tugged at the limp body and maneuvered his arms under those of the unconscious man. After pulling him out, Ralf dragged him across the tarmac to their waiting vehicle. "Hey, you … help me get him in." He glared at Danny.

"Umm, yeah, okay." The young man trotted around the SUV, opened the rear door, and crawled inside. "Put him down; I'll pull him over."

Ralf dropped the sleeping man face down onto the seat and pushed while Danny tugged at the dead weight. Finally, they got the body in.

Moving to the passenger side, Ralf opened the door and the glove compartment, digging out a pair of handcuffs. He climbed into the back seat once more and handcuffed the unconscious prisoner.

Once out, Ralf turned to Danny and poked him roughly in the chest. "Get out of here. And if I get wind you said anything, I'll come and make sure you keep schtum. Permanent. Got it?"

"Y-yeah. I got it." The young man turned and left briskly. His shakes caused him to trip over himself. It took him several minutes to get into his car. He drove away slowly.

"How can that dick even drive? Jesus." Tomas moved next to Ralf. "You think he'll stay quiet?"

"Yeah, I do. He knows me and that I mean what I say." Ralf slammed the rear car door and dug the keys from his pocket.

Tomas smiled. "Perfect. Let's get out of here and get the boy stored away. Then I'll call Sidorov and tell him we have cargo for him."

The pair climbed into the car.

"How much do you think we'll get for him?" Ralf started the vehicle and drove slowly out of the parking lot.

"He's a pretty one, and they love untouched boys. I hope we'll get five."

A groan came from the backseat. Tomas twisted to check on their passenger. "Let's get there, he's coming around."

The pair drove out of town toward a small, rundown house outside the city limits owned by a wealthy conglomerate. They had no qualms about human trafficking. The people they moved were for their own and their clients' pleasure. Nothing could get in the way of that.

Ralf pulled off the quiet road and drove down the long lane, which was forested on either side. Reaching the house, he maneuvered the SUV around the back.

Tomas' seatbelt rolled back into place with a clunk. He glanced once more at the waking passenger. "I'll open up. You get him secured. We don't fucking need this one bruised like the last time."

Ralf squinted and swallowed the retort, but not the thought. You prick. It was as much your fault as mine. Bastard! He pulled the key from the ignition and opened the door. "I'll get him out."

Tomas shut his door and walked to the rear door of the house. "Hurry up!"

"Yes, sir, boss," whispered Ralf. His lips curled. "Prick." He pulled open the door and climbed in.

Their prisoner was stirring but nowhere near being with it. "Quiet now and behave. Just gonna move your arms and get you secure. We cannot bruise the merchandise."

Ralf tugged on the insensible victim, whose arms were cuffed behind his back. "Come on. You need to come around a bit more." He shook and coaxed the man, who slowly reacted to the stimulus.

Ralf's verbal persuasion had the desired effect. The target moaned, and his eyes fluttered open. "Where …"

"We need to get you out—" Ralf grunted as he pulled the man until his feet were on the ground and his torso rested on the seat face down. "Gonna stand you up. Got that? You need to stand up."

The prisoner moaned. "Where the fu… mmmm—" Waves of nausea washed over him. "Fuck, please … gonna—"

"Not on my fucking seat, you bastard." Ralf yanked the man out of the car, turning him as the queasy man vomited.

"You're lucky you didn't get my shoes." Ralf slammed the vehicle's rear door and hauled the hostage toward the house.

"Please … water."

"Shut the fuck up. You'll get water once you're inside." Frustration caused Ralf's grip on his captive's arms to tighten. The bound man groaned. Ralf ignored it. "Come on."

Ralf pulled open the screen door and stepped over the threshold with his detainee. To the left was the kitchen, and Ralf shoved the prisoner in and sat him on an old chrome and plastic kitchen chair. "Stay there."

Leaning around the doorframe, Ralf called down into the basement. "Hey? You ready for him?"

Yes, came the reply.

Smiling now, Ralf returned to their captive. "Come on. You can have a drink downstairs and a shower. Then you can sleep or whatever."

Ralf helped the groggy man to his feet. "You smell like shit and puke." He looked into the victim’s eyes. "But you're fucking hot. I'd fuck you into next week if it wouldn't fuck things up."

The man struggled as he listened to Ralf's whispered words.

Ralf just laughed. "Don't worry. We ain't allowed to sample the merchandise."

Relief flooded the young man. He slumped, and his head fell forward.

From downstairs came Tomas' voice. "Get him down here. What are you bloody doing up there?"

"Coming!" Ralf then pushed his trembling victim toward the basement stairs. "Careful now." He held the man's arms as they made their way down. "We don't want to hurt ourself do we?"

The basement was nothing like the crumbling, empty house above it. It was modern, clean and tidy. The frosted windows were barred. There was a small kitchen with a fridge and microwave, a full bathroom, and a queen-sized bed. The living area was furnished with a sofa, chair, T.V., DVD player, a game console and a wall of DVDs and games.

Tomas was leaning on the back of the sofa when the two others arrived. "Shut the door. Let's get him outta the cuffs and into the shower."

"He needs some water first." Ralf shut the solid metal door, and its lock clicked loudly. "Puked outside."

"Fine, I'll get him a bottle. Once we get his chains on, he can drink."

The prisoner’s eyes widened. "Who are you? Why am I here? Where's Danny?"

"Danny the dancer? Ralf dug in his front pocket and produced a key. “Well, he sold your ass to us and tapped his way home. After a stop to buy smack, I'd guess. Who we are don't fucking matter to you. With luck, you won't be here too long."

Tomas returned carrying chains and a plastic bottle of water. "Shut up, will you? You talk too much to these assholes. Lift his shirt up and get these chains on. Fucking guy needs a shower."

While following instructions, Ralf admired the sleek body under the stained sweatshirt. Tomas put a chain around their prisoner's waist and secured it with a lock at the back. From that chain hung two other lengths on thick rings. A manacle was attached to each end.

"Key." Tomas held out his hand.

Ralf dropped the handcuff key onto his boss' palm.

Tomas unlocked the cuffs and dropped them. "Shirt off now."

"Who are you? What do you mean sold?" The shackled man complained as he pulled the shirt over his head. "What are you gonna do with me?"

"Shut the fuck up." Tomas snapped the manacles on each of the captive's wrists and tugged to make sure they were secure. "If you keep asking, I'll gag you." He turned to Ralf. "We got anything we can dope him up with?"

"Yeah, there's something upstairs if we need it."

"Do we fucking need it, asshole?" Tomas grabbed their prisoner's face in his hand and squeezed.

"N-n-no."

"Then shut your goddamn mouth." Tomas released the man who stepped back.

The fearful man pressed his lips together and lifted his hands to examine the manacles on his wrists.

"Get his jeans off of him so we can chain his ankles.” Tomas said. “Then he can shower and whatever."

"What? Why?" The captive backed up further.

Tomas approached his prisoner and slapped him. "I told you to shut up. Do as you're told, or I will fucking sedate you. Got it this time, dick head? Am I clear?"

"Y-yes."

Tomas opened the big door and stepped through. "Get his jeans off. I'm going upstairs to the office to make some calls."

You are such a fucking prick. Ralf glared at Tomas' retreating back. "Okay. I can take care of this." He was glad when the door closed. He moved toward the frightened hostage. "Hey, just keep calm and you'll be okay. What's your name?"

"M-matt."

"Okay, Matt. Let's get this done, so you can have a drink and a shower." Ralf pointed at Matt's waist. "You wanna take off your stuff, or do you want me to?"

"Huh? I …"

"Jeans and underwear … get them off, or I will take them off you. Your choice."

"Jesus, please. I just …"

Ralf reached for Matt's waistband. "I've seen lots of guy's junk. I'm not gonna tell you again, man. Get them off."

Matt’s fingers shook as he undid the button on his jeans. "Okay. Okay." He pushed off his sneakers and shoved his jeans and underwear down. He lifted his legs one at a time to slip everything off.

"Mmm, nice." Ralf ogled with a smirk. "Socks too. Get ‘em off."

Once Matt had finished, Ralf knelt and locked the manacles around the prisoner's ankles. There was enough chain so Matt could take short steps. Ralf stood up. "Okay, come on. Have some water, and then go and shower."

Matt accepted the water bottle and sipped from it. The water felt good on his sore throat. He took the opportunity to look around. Escape did not look to be an option, not as things were.

"Okay, come on. Shower."

"Yeah, right, okay." Matt walked to the shower, knowing Ralf was watching closely behind him. "Hey, um, when I'm done, do I have to walk around like this?"

"There’s some shorts you can wear. They're in the drawer." Ralf walked to the dresser. "Size? Medium?"

"Yeah." Matt replaced the lid on the bottle of water. His head ached. He'd spent a fun night with Danny but hadn't felt well after some orange juice in the morning. Bastard drugged me, and what, sold me? What the fuck? "Hey, please. Can't you just let me go? This is insane. My family will be worried."

Ralf's smile slipped. Darkness filled his eyes. "Get in the shower. Do as you're told, and you'll be fine." He pointed upwards. "The boss, he's not as nice as me. Don't fuck around, or else he'll drug you until it’s time to move you outta here. Don't be stupid, Matt."

Ralf put the packages of new boxers and a T-shirt on the corner of the bed.

Matt's mouth opened and then closed. Jesus, what's going to happen to me? With the chains dragging along the carpet, the captive man walked toward the bathroom to shower.

⸛

In a little but well-appointed office on the top floor of the house, Tomas sat at the desk. He'd booted up the laptop and signed onto their business site. He opened and replied to several emails and then logged off. Picking up his mobile phone, he dialed a number, and waited. He smiled when his call was answered.

"Sidorov. It's Tomas. Yes, good, you? I have one. Young, healthy, early twenties." He paused to listen. "Once he's cleaned up, I'll send you a pic. Dark, yeah, he's okay. For this one, five."

Tomas scowled and shook his head. "Don't fuck with me. He's worth five." A ghost of a smile descended onto his thin lips. "Once you see the pic, you'll send me five and be glad about it. Because you, you bastard, can likely get twenty for him."

⸛

Matt stood naked in the bathroom. He felt self-conscious as he leaned over to turn on the water.

"Get in and clean up." Ralf stood in the doorway, leaning on the jamb.

"Okay, I'm going." Matt stepped into the tiled shower and moved under the shower head. He felt off-kilter and weak and was pleased to see the rubber mat. The chains he wore clanked and rattled as he moved.

Ralf watched the young man until he started to wash. Fucking hot. Whoever has that guy first is one lucky bastard.

When the door opened and Tomas returned to the basement, Ralf moved to sit on a nearby chair.

"How's he doing?" Tomas craned his neck to see into the bathroom.

"Yeah, okay."

"We need to feed him. I'm fucking hungry too." Tomas sat on the sofa.

"You want me to go get some food?"

"Yeah. Like subs or something." Tomas pulled some bills from his pocket. "I need his key."

“I’ll go to that all-night place.” Ralf nodded, handed over the key, and accepted the money. "I know what you like."

He turned away and made for the door.

⸛

Matt turned off the water and grabbed a blue cotton towel from the rack. Once dry, he wrapped the towel around his waist and left the bathroom, surprised to see Tomas instead of Ralf. Walking to the bed, Matt opened the packages and realized he'd need help to get dressed. To do that, he required Tomas. I do not want to talk to that fucking guy.

"Um. Sorry. I, um …"

Tomas twisted to look over the back of the sofa. "You ah, what?"

"I can't get dressed with these chains on. Look, I'm sorry, but can you help me?"

"Yeah, sure." Tomas got up and pulled the keys from his pocket. He unlocked each manacle in turn, and Matt pulled on the t-shirt as Tomas freed each arm.

"He only gave you boxers? Hold on." Tomas went and hunted through the chest of drawers. He pulled out a pair of grey sweatpants. "You'll be warmer with these."

Matt took the new item of clothing. "Thanks."

Tomas considered for a minute. "I'm gonna unlock one ankle at a time. Then you're gonna get dressed." He reached behind to the small of his back.

Matt's eyes widened as he looked at the pistol in Tomas' right hand. "Jesus."

"There ain't no Jesus. You don't fuck with me, do you understand?"

"Yeah, yeah, I understand." Matt's guts felt watery. "You're gonna unlock one ankle, and I'll get the boxers and then the sweats on. Then you're gonna put the chains back on."

Tomas smiled. "Perfect. Now put your hands behind your head and do not fucking move."

Matt put his hands behind his head.

Tomas knelt, unlocked one ankle manacle, and slipped it off.

At that moment, Ralf returned, opened the heavy door, and stepped inside carrying bags of food.

"Hey, I'm back." The self-closing door clicked shut. “Sun’s just comin’ up.”

Tomas turned to look.

Instinctively, Matt swung both hands down and hit Tomas. The chain caught his captor's cheek and ear, and Matt's hands glanced off the kneeling man's shoulder.

Off balance and dazed, Tomas fell to one side.

Running as best he could, the chains dragging behind him, Matt shoved Ralf, who had started toward the now-free prisoner. Surprised by the attack, Ralf stumbled back against the kitchen counter.

Matt reached the door. Grasping the doorknob, he tried turning it.

Nothing.

The frightened captive tried again and again. Matt pulled and twisted the door knob. "Come on. Fuck. Come ON!"

Tomas got to his feet and wiped the blood from his cheek. He bent and picked up his weapon.

Breathing heavily, Matt continued to try to wrench the door open. Realizing it was futile, the hostage slid down and wept openly, kneeling in front of the door.

His face twisted and eyes black with anger, Tomas growled, "I should fucking kill you." He pointed the Glock at his sobbing prisoner, then glanced at Ralf. "Get the fucker up. Put the manacles back on. Then chain him to the fucking bed for the night."

Tomas turned away and headed to the bathroom. He washed his face and examined the cut on his face. "Fucker." He grabbed a hand towel and pressed it hard against the bleeding gash.

"You had to go and piss him off. Such a bad move, asshole." Ralf shoved Matt onto the bed. "You better hope we're moving you soon cuz he ain't the forgiving type."

Matt said nothing as he watched Ralf chain his legs to the bottom of the bed. I fucked my only chance. Why did I even think I could get out of here? He turned over, facing the wall.

Ralf sighed and went to check on his partner. "You okay? Need any help?"

"I need fucking stitches. How's he?" Tomas leaned against the sink in the bathroom, still adding pressure to the cut on his face.

"Realizing what a dumb fuck move that was, I think." Ralf reached toward Tomas's face. "Let me see. I can stitch it if you want."

Tomas removed the towel and let Ralf examine it. "What do you think?"

Ralf gently touched the wound. "It's stopped bleeding, but it's pretty bad. It's not gonna stay closed for long. And the scar is gonna be ugly if we leave it alone."

"Okay. I don't need to be more recognizable than I am already."

Ralf nodded. "I'll get the suture kit. Be right back."

 

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