Chapter 33

Simon woke to a fall.

He landed hard on the carpet, hitting limbs that were bruised from so many previous awakenings. He crouched on his knees, staring under the bed, waiting for whatever was to come next.

Feet entered his vision a few seconds later, as Henry scooted to the foot of the bed to upon his syn.

The man assessed the naked synthetic, waiting long enough for the dread to start looping through the boy.

"Simon," said the man. His toes made deep indentations into the rug as he leaned down. "How many times have I told you not to use my bedcovers?"

"I'm sorry, master," he whispered. He couldn't protest that he'd been freezing during the night. Nor that he suspected Henry was looking for an excuse to punish him.

"Don't be sorry." The man grasped Simon by the hair and yanked his blond locks viciously upward, eliciting a yelp. "Just don't do it."

The synthetic was shaking, hands half raised, as if caught between twin urges to grasp the wrist and aid his aching scalp, or avoid Henry's wrath and keep them on the ground. "I- I won't, sir."

"You won't what?"

"W-wake you?" Simon didn't have time to flinch at the smack that rocked his body. Strands of hair sent identical jolts of pain as they parted with his scalp, and he couldn't keep the tears from leaking free.

"Sir," said the man. "Or master. By God, when will you get the lesson into that thick head of yours?" Another shake to emphasize the point.

The boy didn't reply, holding the air in. He knew anything he said would be twisted against him. His breath threatened to burst from his chest, but maybe, if he held it long enough, he could pass out.

Henry released his hold and the synthetic collapsed to the floor, gasping for air.

For a brief instant, Simon imagined that the man had finished belittling him, that it was going to be one of the good mornings, when his owner lacked the time to hurt him more.

It was not to be.

The seconds ticked past, and Henry still hadn't stood for his morning shower.

Simon slumped in surrender, shutting his eyes in an effort to draw up willpower to last through whatever was going to come next - and to hope, irrational though it was, that he could change it.

"Come here," said Henry.

The boy took one last shaky breath and then pushed himself to his knees. His owner was still at the edge of the bed, legs wide and penis waiting.

Simon crawled closer, knowing from ample experience that hesitation would increase the punishment he would receive later.

The question was, which hole did the man want today?

Simon stole a quick glance at his master's face, but he received no commands or hints. He was bitterly aware, whatever action he chose, Henry would berate him for it later.

He just wants to see you squirm, said the voice in his head. So don't.

You can't win.

The syn sighed, turning his head away from the sight in front of him. His humiliation only added to the man's pleasure, he knew that, but it didn't make the shame any less.

He was still a dumb slave, and not stupid - or brave - enough to fight.

Simon grasped the limp rod in front of him and began fondling it with his small fingers. He gripped the base tightly and teasing the head with his other hand.

Practice had given him the knowledge on how best to please his owner. He washed all of the disgust from his visage, and met the eyes of the man he hated.

Henry grinned, and nodded to his toy.

The boy opened his soft lips, even - as Henry knew - though his mind screamed at him to stop. He licking the tip of the erection, suppressed a quiver of distaste with skill he'd develop more fully over the years, and then took the entire thing in his warm mouth.

His master's hands encircled his skull, preventing Simon from moving either forward or back. He tried not to think about it - tried not to feel the entrapment, the complete helplessness...

He felt the tremble and knew there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Simon flinched, a loss of control for only an instant, but his jaw clenched and his teeth escaped, and they brushed the skin of his owner - just for an instant, a moment passed so quickly he hoped, and prayed, that the man hadn't noticed-

But of course, by thinking about it at all, Henry was sure to realize-

Simon redoubled his efforts, his tongue pressing and licking, sucking the one instrument he knew so well. He allowed himself one look, one check, but Henry's face was contorted in ecstasy; he couldn't tell if the man had felt it-