Fic: The Devil You Know (21/25)
Feb. 15th, 2014 06:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
citrinesunsetTitle: The Devil You Know
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/Pairing: Neal/Peter, Peter/Elizabeth/Neal, Neal/Elizabeth, Peter/Elizabeth, references to Neal/Kate
Rating: Explicit
Contains: Non-con, dub-con, institutionalized slavery, spanking, humiliation, dark!Peter, dark!Elizabeth, sex, rimming
Word count: 4600 this part. About 122k total.
Summary: After being convicted of bond forgery, Neal is sentenced to four years of slavery. But he isn't prepared to be purchased by Peter Burke. Or for what Peter has in store for him.
Notes: See Chapter 1 for details.
In the morning, Neal's alarm woke him from a dream about Peter spanking him at the office. Over the knee. With his ass bare.
In reality, Peter's demeanor had softened. During the drive to work, he even tried to give Neal a pep talk.
"Listen," he said while they waited in traffic, "I know you were embarrassed yesterday. When I disciplined you. But you realize it's not a big deal to anyone else, right? It's normal for masters to discipline their slaves in public. I know you're mostly treated like a free person at the office, but no one's gonna be surprised if I treat you like a slave."
Neal looked out the window. It'd started to rain a minute ago, and some pedestrians were already pulling out umbrellas.
"Yeah," he said, unconvinced. He propped his elbow up by the window and pressed his knuckles against his lips.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Peter frown. Peter turned his eyes back to the road in front of him, even though they were still stuck in a gridlock.
"Anyway," Peter said, "If you're good, you won't have to worry about it happening again."
Neal eyed Peter, trying to interpret his tone and expression.
"Did Elizabeth get on your case about it?"
Peter glared at him. "For your information, she thinks I handled things as well as I could have, under the circumstances."
He bet Elizabeth did give Peter a hard time for it. The thought gave him some small satisfaction.
As it turned out, though, Peter seemed to be right about it not being a big deal. No one treated Neal any differently at work. It was like yesterday's incident hadn't happened. Perhaps Peter was right, and slave discipline was just an everyday occurrence.
By mid-afternoon, Neal was glad to be at the office. He felt more at ease around the other agents again, and he had another chance to look at Kate's file.
Neal looked for it the first chance he got, but it wasn't on Peter's desk anymore. As soon as Peter was out of his office, Neal even checked the file cabinets in the corner, which were unlocked. But there was nothing labeled "Moreau."
The existence of the file weighed on him all day. Now that the immediate threat of the FBI's disapproval was removed from his shoulders, the threat to Kate was all he could think about.
He was so preoccupied that, when they left the office, he didn't even realize at first that they weren't going straight home.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"We need a new paddle, remember?"
"We're getting it now?"
"Why not?"
Neal had expected Peter to buy it alone, and he didn't really want to help pick out his own paddle.
He recognized where they were going, now. Peter had apparently decided to take Elizabeth's advice and visit Laurent's Slave Boutique.
"Do we really need a paddle? I think your hand is hard enough. And a better-quality paddle might hurt more. Did you think of that?"
"Careful, Neal," Peter said with a small smile. "I might get the idea you're protesting too much."
"What? Because I secretly want you to get a paddle? Reaching a bit, aren't you?"
"The belt seemed to leave a strong impression last night. It'd be smart to convince me that the paddle is more effective."
Neal squirmed and didn't say another word. The last thing he wanted was for Peter to decide to use the belt from now on. His ass was still a bit tender.
Peter patted his knee. "Don't worry. I think we can save the belt for serious offenses."
When they arrived at the store, Neal followed Peter to the back, where they kept the punishment tools. There was a large selection of paddles, straps, crops, floggers, and even a few canes hanging from hooks on the wall.
While Peter went straight for the paddles, Neal looked at a nearby shelf that held various smaller items, including a box ominously labeled "Fire Lube." Under the name, it said, "Made with real ginger. 100% natural and safe."
Neal suppressed a shudder. He hoped Peter didn't take an interest in that.
A young, smiling salesman approached Peter and said, "Hi! Can I help you find anything?"
"Oh, I'm just looking at the paddles. My last one broke, so I need something a little sturdier."
The salesman nodded, a look of understanding and commiseration on his face. He gave Neal a harder look, one that said he thought he could recognize a difficult slave when he saw one.
Neal pasted a charming smile on his face. He was torn between trying to win him over and proving his suspicions correct.
He decided to go with the latter.
"My master realized it wasn't a good idea to buy a discount paddle," he said.
Peter gave him a dirty look. The salesman just ignored him.
To Peter, the salesman said, "Well, we have leather, wood, and plastic. We also have a larger selection in our online store if you can't find something you like here."
"These are fine. I think I want to go with a leather one."
"What size were you looking for?"
"Well, I usually spank him over my knee, so I think smaller is better."
The salesman nodded. "Right. We have a couple smaller ones here. One has holes, the other doesn't. Some people think the holes create more of a sting, but it's a matter of opinion. You can't go wrong with either of them."
"I think I'll get the one with the holes. I like the shape."
"Great! If you're interested in anything else, we got some new items in recently." He took a familiar-looking switch off the wall. "This is the exact model used in government training facilities. Very sturdy and efficient."
Neal's ass tensed reflexively. He remembered all too well how efficient those things were.
Luckily, Peter looked uninterested.
"I'm not interested in long-range implements," he said. "I prefer spanking him over my knee. I'm not sure I trust him to stay still otherwise."
The salesman's eyes lit up. "Have you ever considered a spanking bench? Most of them come with restraints, so you can use any implement you want without your slave causing trouble for you. Let me show you some of our models."
Peter started protest, but the salesman was already leading him over to slave furniture. He stopped beside a floor model of an imposing metal spanking bench. It consisted of a padded surface that sloped downward and four padded arm and knee rests. There were several thick leather straps for restraint, and there were cranks and handles that suggested the contraption could be adjusted.
"This is our most popular model," the salesman said. "As you can see, it elevates the slave's backside for easy access. And it's fully adjustable. Not only can you change the slant, but you can adjust the arm and leg rests."
"I don’t know—"
"It's actually on sale now, so it's a great time to buy."
"You're on commission, aren't you?" Neal said.
The salesman gave him a dirty look. Peter shot a surprised look over his shoulder, but his eyes betrayed amusement.
"Quiet, Neal," he said.
"If you want," the salesman said quickly, "you can have your slave lie on it, so you can see how he fits."
Peter eyed the contraption and then turned to Neal. "Yeah, how about you give it a try?"
Neal decided to play along. He swaggered over to the spanking bench and climbed on. It seemed to support his weight okay, so he lay down on the padded surface and placed his arms and legs on the rests.
He was immediately glad that Peter didn't seem too interested in it. The bench lifted his ass up, and the leg rests held his legs wide apart. If he wasn't wearing clothes, he would be terribly exposed. Peter would be able to do anything he wanted.
"See how convenient it is?" the salesman said. "This bench is so comfortable that you can even use it instead of making him stand in a corner. It's perfectly safe to leave him on it for a few hours, as long as the restraints aren't too tight."
Peter squeezed Neal's thigh. "What do you think?"
Neal knelt up. Did Peter seriously expect him to offer feedback on punishment tools?
Raising his eyebrows, he said, "I could get out of these restraints in five minutes."
Peter looked at the salesman. "I'm afraid he's right. Restraints don't work well with this one. Besides, my wife would kill me if I tried to put this thing in the living room. I think I'll just stick with the paddle for now."
The salesman accepted defeat and rang up the purchase. Neal was more than ready to get out of the store.
As they walked out to the car, he said, "You didn't have to make me try out the spanking bench."
Peter grinned. "Oh, but it was fun. And you didn't have to sass the clerk."
"You didn't seem too upset by it."
"They always have to upsell at those places. It drives me crazy."
Any annoyance Peter might have had toward Neal's attitude appeared to be gone now.
Neal's spirits weren't as good. He didn't feel like being toyed with. As they drove home, he again thought about Kate, and the file he'd seen.
They were going over the Brooklyn Bridge when Peter finally acknowledged Neal's sullenness.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing," Neal said.
"You've been doing this a lot the past couple days. You really expect me to believe nothing's wrong?"
Neal's first instinct was to keep evading the question. But then he stopped himself. Perhaps Peter's lighthearted mood today was making him bolder, or maybe he was just too tired and worried to keep up the charade anymore.
"I know you're investigating Kate," Neal said.
There was a pause. Then, Peter said, "I'm not investigating Kate. What gave you that idea?"
Neal's anger swelled. He'd thought Peter was starting to trust him more. Apparently not.
"I saw the file on your desk. I saw the pictures, the credit card records...."
Peter grimaced. "I didn't mean for you to see that."
Neal scoffed. "Yeah, I figured. What are you doing? Are you hoping she'll lead you to some stash of things I stole? Do you want to arrest her, too?"
"No. God, no. Neal, I'm not investigating her. You've got to believe that. That file you saw, it's all off the record."
"Then what's it for?"
"You've been so focused on her, and with you sneaking out, trying to meet with her, I thought it'd be a good idea to keep an eye on her for a while. That's all. I wanted to make sure she wasn't getting you in any trouble."
Neal studied Peter's face, trying to gauge if he was telling the truth.
"I'm sorry," Peter said. "I didn't realize you'd seen the file. I can imagine what you must've thought."
"What was I supposed to think?"
It still pissed him off, thinking of Peter going behind his back, tracking his girlfriend. And all because Neal had screwed up and gotten caught sneaking out. Kate didn't deserve trouble for that. It hadn't even been her idea to meet.
Still, if Peter was telling the truth, it wasn't as bad as Neal thought. And he could see why Peter had jumped to conclusions. Neal couldn't exactly tell him who he'd snuck out to meet, or who had given him the passport. And he had very few known associates. Peter didn't know about Mozzie, so Kate was the obvious choice.
"Listen," Peter said, "I have the file at home. I'll let you look through it, okay? Would that help convince you that Kate's all right?"
"Yeah, it'd help."
When they got home, Peter brought the file downstairs. He told Neal he'd brought it home last night and kept it in the master bedroom.
Neal spent the next forty minutes looking through it with Peter at his side. Now that he was able to view it at his leisure, he realized that there was nothing incriminating in it. Nothing to indicate that Kate was a suspect of any kind.
There was some doubt when he considered that Peter might have removed things prior to showing him the file. That was a possibility. But he had to trust Peter's word.
* * *
Neal did his best to stop worrying about Kate. At least for the time being, he could trust that she wasn't in danger.
Besides, he had other things on his mind.
His allowance was proving to be a disappointment. The money he got was barely more than pocket change, and he had few opportunities to use it. Peter and Elizabeth kept promising to let him go shopping if he wanted, but he had to wait until they had time. And since they accompanied him regardless, it made no difference if he used his allowance or if they made the purchase for him. Either way, the money was legally theirs, not his.
These days, Neal didn't have much time to think about shopping. The Burkes kept him busy. And unlike the Burkes, Neal didn't have the luxury of being tired. When either Peter or Elizabeth was exhausted from work, Neal had to pick up the slack, both domestically and sexually. But when Neal was tired, there was never a guarantee that he'd be let off the clock.
The upside was that he didn't have to worry about insomnia anymore. Most nights, when he went to bed, he fell asleep quickly and slept soundly.
In the beginning of March, Neal began taking Satchmo to the park again. In the winter months, it'd been too cold to go often, or to stay for more than a few minutes.
It was a welcome break. When Neal was out walking Satchmo, there were no other demands on him.
One afternoon, he arrived at the park and found Mozzie already sitting on a bench. He beamed when he saw him. As they got closer, Satchmo sniffed at Mozzie and wagged his tail in recognition.
"Haven't seen you around in a while," Neal said. He unclipped Satchmo's leash and sat down beside Mozzie.
"I've been training my new homing pigeon."
"Estelle has a new brother or sister?"
"A brother, named Francis. Anything interesting going on in your domestic prison?"
Neal chose his words carefully. There were a lot of things he couldn't tell Mozzie. He had too much pride to talk about being punished. And he couldn't say that he was mastering the art of delaying Peter's orgasms during fellatio (Peter wanted it to last longer. No more of the rush jobs that Neal prided himself on).
"They're keeping me busy," Neal said. "They take me to work with them a lot, now, but I still have to take care of the house, too."
"The Suit's forcing you to work for the FBI?"
"He's not forcing me. It wasn't my choice, but I agreed to it. It's interesting work. Sometimes."
"But you see what he's doing, right? He's exploiting you. Making you grovel in front of the feds and condemn other criminals to the same fate that's befallen you."
"It's not like that. They're nice."
"Yeah, like cats are nice to a mouse."
"Exaggerate, much?" Neal threw Satchmo's toy and watched him run off to fetch it. "I did find something the other day. Peter's been keeping an eye on Kate. He has a file."
"He's investigating her?"
"He swears he isn't. He let me look at the file, and it looks legit. He says he's just worried about me meeting with her."
"Because he's a control freak who jumps to conclusions."
"You can't blame him for the conclusions. He knows I've snuck out to meet someone, and he doesn't know about you. Of course he'll suspect Kate."
Mozzie looked uncomfortable, and Neal realized that there had been something tense in his expression from the start.
"Well, his suspicion of Kate may come to an end shortly."
Neal frowned. "Why? What do you mean?"
"I seriously debated telling you about this. It'll just upset you, and there's nothing you can do. So what good is it?"
"Moz," Neal said, raising his voice. "What is it? Is Kate okay?"
"Kate's fine," Mozzie said with a sigh. "She's going to France."
Neal blinked. "So?"
"Permanently, Neal. Or at least for the foreseeable future."
Neal sat back. The wooden slats of the bench were cold, even through the lightweight jacket he wore.
"That's okay," he said. "By the time I'm free, she'll be back. Or I can go there. It's not like we're allowed to see each other now."
"I'm not sure she's planning on a reunion with you. She let the lease expire on your apartment, and she gave me this." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small brass key. "It goes to a storage unit. She put your things there. That is, the stuff the government didn't steal and auction off."
Neal swallowed. "So? She probably just wants me to be able to access it in case she's still over there when I'm freed. That doesn't mean anything."
"She also said to tell you goodbye," Mozzie said, softly. "And she left the bottle."
Neal shook his head. He couldn't believe that Kate had meant it that way. Mozzie was mistaken. Kate was just going abroad for a while, and wanted to make arrangements for their things. She wasn't leaving.
That was what he wanted to believe. But as Mozzie's words sank in, he was less confident.
"Moz, I have to see her before she goes. You have to get her to meet with me."
"How?" Mozzie said, spreading his arms. "I can't force her to come, unless you want me to kidnap her."
"Of course I don't want you to kidnap her. Just tell her we need to talk."
"I can't. I don't even know where she's staying right now. She's been under the radar for months."
"But she's not under Peter's radar...."
"Neal, what are you saying?"
"I could talk to Peter. Get him to contact her for me."
"That's a terrible idea. He's not going to help you. And even if he would, you can't trust him. He's a suit. Remember that."
"What other choice do I have? If you're right, I can't just let Kate go. I might never find her again."
Neal looked down and realized that Satchmo was by his feet. He had his squeaky ball in his mouth and he looked up at Neal hopefully. Absently, Neal took the ball from Satchmo's mouth and tossed it for him.
"I know this isn't what you want to hear," Mozzie said, "but maybe you just have to let her go."
A cool breeze blew in, chilling Neal and whipping his hair back. The weather was on the line between winter and spring. It seemed like that was how Neal's life was these days—he would have control, and then a harsh wind would knock him back down.
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry," Mozzie said. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news."
"It's not your fault. I'm glad you told me. When is she going?"
"Her flight leaves Monday. Five PM."
Neal pulled his jacket closed. Satchmo came running up again but this time, Neal didn't pick up the ball when Satchmo dropped it at his feet. Instead, he absently scratched behind Satchmo's ears while Mozzie tried to cheer him with more talk of his homing pigeons.
* * *
Neal knew Mozzie didn't understand, but Peter was his only hope. As a slave, he had to rely on his owners for almost everything. And Peter tried to be fair, at least. He had to understand what this meant to Neal.
Neal broached the subject in the car the next morning. He would have preferred to wait and butter Peter up first. But he didn't have time for that.
"I saw someone I know the other day," Neal said.
Peter gritted his teeth. "Neal, you know you're not supposed to meet with people."
"I wasn't 'meeting' with anyone. I ran into him. And he told me Kate is leaving the country on Monday. She's moving to France, and she might not come back. You need to find her, Peter. I have to talk to her."
Peter just shook his head. "Neal...." he said sadly.
He didn't look surprised.
Neal looked at Peter's eyes. "Wait, you already knew, didn't you?"
He wanted to kick himself for not anticipating this.
"You mean, that she was going to France?"
"You've been keeping tabs on her. You knew, and you didn't tell me."
Peter sighed. "She made her plane reservations a couple weeks ago. And she let the lease on the apartment you guys shared run out on the first. Yeah, I knew."
"And you weren't going to say anything?" He couldn't stop the feeling of betrayal from coming out in his voice. He'd really believed that Peter would tell him if something happened with Kate. Especially after he'd shown him the file.
He realized now that there must have been items missing from it when Peter showed it to him. If Peter knew about the plane reservation, he would have recorded it in the file.
Peter had lied to him.
"What would it have accomplished?" Peter asked. "It just would have upset you when there's nothing you can do about it."
"There's something you can do. You can let me see her, just for a few minutes. If I could just talk to her—"
"No."
"Peter—"
"I said no," Peter said firmly. "I'm sorry, but it's not going to happen."
Neal felt like he was shaking. His head swam.
"I can't believe it," he said. "I can't believe you're so possessive that you won't let me talk to her one last time."
"Oh, this has nothing to do with me, and you know it," Peter snapped. He raised his voice and took his eyes off the road to look at Neal. "This is all on you. You need to learn to let go. I know you want to see her, but trust me, it wouldn't be what you're hoping for."
"How do you know?" Neal spat.
"Neal, I...." Peter turned his eyes back to the road. He swallowed, perhaps reacting to Neal's wounded tone. Sympathy shone in his eyes. Or perhaps it was pity. He shook his head. "This isn't open for discussion. You need to listen to me on this."
If it wasn't open for discussion, then Neal was on his own. He would find his own way to get to Kate. He'd given Peter a chance to help, and now Peter couldn't blame him for anything he might do.
They rode the rest of the way in stony silence.
* * *
Neal did what Peter said—he didn't bring up Kate again. A couple times over the course of the day, Peter gave Neal a vaguely distrustful look, as though he was suspicious of Neal's willingness to let the topic go.
But Neal didn't give him anything to worry about. He did his work, and waited.
His chance came toward the end of the day, when Peter left Neal alone in his office while he went to the restroom. Neal took a quick peek to make sure he wasn't being watched, and set to work.
He fished a large paperclip out of a holder on the desk. Peter kept a few small tools in one of his desk drawers. He'd probably been a Boy Scout once. Neal remembered seeing a small pair of pliers. He found them, and a couple minutes later, he'd bent the paperclip into a makeshift lock pick.
He looked at his watch. He didn't think he had more than another couple minutes before Peter returned. He set to work on the locked bottom desk drawer. Luckily, even in the FBI, desk drawers weren't hard to pick. He had it open in seconds. Now he had the lockbox to deal with.
That lock was a little more complex, but only slightly. But even the simplest locks got his chest pounding when he only had a few minutes.
He breathed a sigh of relief when the box popped open. There were several collar keys inside. Each resembled a miniature flash drive, but with small metal prongs that could fit inside the lock mechanisms. Neal knew that his collar had a Wilson-Barre lock, and he recognized the correct key from when Peter had taken his collar off.
When he found it, he smiled and allowed himself a second of relief before stowing the key in his pocket.
He'd just closed the box and set it back in the drawer when he heard a noise by the door. He looked up, expecting to see Peter. But it was Diana, carrying a file folder.
"Hey," she said, "Peter around? I have a report for him."
Neal's heart was pounding. He realized that she couldn't see the open drawer from where he was standing. If he played it cool, she might not notice anything amiss.
"He just stepped out. Should be back in a minute. You can leave the report on the desk, if you want. I'll let him know it's here."
Diana hesitated. She was probably debating waiting there until Peter returned. Neal sat back in Peter's chair, trying not to draw attention to the open drawer. He wondered if he could inch it closed with his foot without making noise.
Smirking, Diana said, "You're worse than a cat, you know. You always take Peter's chair as soon as he gets up."
"What can I say?" Neal said with a shrug. "It's comfortable. I should get my own chair, don't you think?"
"Yeah, sure." She dropped the file on the desk. "Tell him I dropped this off, okay?"
Neal sank into the chair with relief as she turned around. Just as she was leaving, Peter appeared on the steps.
Before Neal could panic again, Diana stopped him outside the office door. She seemed to be telling him about the report, but Neal wasn't listening. He closed the drawer as fast as he could without drawing attention to himself.
Without the keys, he couldn't re-lock the drawer or the box. He just had to hope Peter wouldn't think to check the drawer before they left.
When Peter finally came in, Neal was idly tossing a rubber band ball in the air. Peter grabbed it out of the air and set it down.
"You ready to go home?" Peter asked.
Neal got up. "You mean, and put away the mortgage fraud cases? Do you really need to ask?"
"Okay," Peter said with a smile. "Let me grab my things."
Neal watched him nervously. Peter filed away the report Diana had left, and then grabbed his phone off the desk. Then he bent over and reached for the desk drawers.
Neal couldn't tell if he was reaching for the bottom one or not, but he had to stop him just in case.
"You know," he said, "I've been thinking, and you're right. About Kate. I shouldn't have asked you to take me to her."
Peter stopped and turned to look at Neal. He regarded him for a moment, and then stood up and reached for his coat.
"I'm glad to hear that. And I really am sorry I can't help you." Peter pulled on his coat and slapped Neal on the shoulder. "C'mon. Let's go home."
Neal followed him to the elevator. While they waited, he reached into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around the key.
Chapter 22
Fandom: White Collar
Characters/Pairing: Neal/Peter, Peter/Elizabeth/Neal, Neal/Elizabeth, Peter/Elizabeth, references to Neal/Kate
Rating: Explicit
Contains: Non-con, dub-con, institutionalized slavery, spanking, humiliation, dark!Peter, dark!Elizabeth, sex, rimming
Word count: 4600 this part. About 122k total.
Summary: After being convicted of bond forgery, Neal is sentenced to four years of slavery. But he isn't prepared to be purchased by Peter Burke. Or for what Peter has in store for him.
Notes: See Chapter 1 for details.
In the morning, Neal's alarm woke him from a dream about Peter spanking him at the office. Over the knee. With his ass bare.
In reality, Peter's demeanor had softened. During the drive to work, he even tried to give Neal a pep talk.
"Listen," he said while they waited in traffic, "I know you were embarrassed yesterday. When I disciplined you. But you realize it's not a big deal to anyone else, right? It's normal for masters to discipline their slaves in public. I know you're mostly treated like a free person at the office, but no one's gonna be surprised if I treat you like a slave."
Neal looked out the window. It'd started to rain a minute ago, and some pedestrians were already pulling out umbrellas.
"Yeah," he said, unconvinced. He propped his elbow up by the window and pressed his knuckles against his lips.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Peter frown. Peter turned his eyes back to the road in front of him, even though they were still stuck in a gridlock.
"Anyway," Peter said, "If you're good, you won't have to worry about it happening again."
Neal eyed Peter, trying to interpret his tone and expression.
"Did Elizabeth get on your case about it?"
Peter glared at him. "For your information, she thinks I handled things as well as I could have, under the circumstances."
He bet Elizabeth did give Peter a hard time for it. The thought gave him some small satisfaction.
As it turned out, though, Peter seemed to be right about it not being a big deal. No one treated Neal any differently at work. It was like yesterday's incident hadn't happened. Perhaps Peter was right, and slave discipline was just an everyday occurrence.
By mid-afternoon, Neal was glad to be at the office. He felt more at ease around the other agents again, and he had another chance to look at Kate's file.
Neal looked for it the first chance he got, but it wasn't on Peter's desk anymore. As soon as Peter was out of his office, Neal even checked the file cabinets in the corner, which were unlocked. But there was nothing labeled "Moreau."
The existence of the file weighed on him all day. Now that the immediate threat of the FBI's disapproval was removed from his shoulders, the threat to Kate was all he could think about.
He was so preoccupied that, when they left the office, he didn't even realize at first that they weren't going straight home.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"We need a new paddle, remember?"
"We're getting it now?"
"Why not?"
Neal had expected Peter to buy it alone, and he didn't really want to help pick out his own paddle.
He recognized where they were going, now. Peter had apparently decided to take Elizabeth's advice and visit Laurent's Slave Boutique.
"Do we really need a paddle? I think your hand is hard enough. And a better-quality paddle might hurt more. Did you think of that?"
"Careful, Neal," Peter said with a small smile. "I might get the idea you're protesting too much."
"What? Because I secretly want you to get a paddle? Reaching a bit, aren't you?"
"The belt seemed to leave a strong impression last night. It'd be smart to convince me that the paddle is more effective."
Neal squirmed and didn't say another word. The last thing he wanted was for Peter to decide to use the belt from now on. His ass was still a bit tender.
Peter patted his knee. "Don't worry. I think we can save the belt for serious offenses."
When they arrived at the store, Neal followed Peter to the back, where they kept the punishment tools. There was a large selection of paddles, straps, crops, floggers, and even a few canes hanging from hooks on the wall.
While Peter went straight for the paddles, Neal looked at a nearby shelf that held various smaller items, including a box ominously labeled "Fire Lube." Under the name, it said, "Made with real ginger. 100% natural and safe."
Neal suppressed a shudder. He hoped Peter didn't take an interest in that.
A young, smiling salesman approached Peter and said, "Hi! Can I help you find anything?"
"Oh, I'm just looking at the paddles. My last one broke, so I need something a little sturdier."
The salesman nodded, a look of understanding and commiseration on his face. He gave Neal a harder look, one that said he thought he could recognize a difficult slave when he saw one.
Neal pasted a charming smile on his face. He was torn between trying to win him over and proving his suspicions correct.
He decided to go with the latter.
"My master realized it wasn't a good idea to buy a discount paddle," he said.
Peter gave him a dirty look. The salesman just ignored him.
To Peter, the salesman said, "Well, we have leather, wood, and plastic. We also have a larger selection in our online store if you can't find something you like here."
"These are fine. I think I want to go with a leather one."
"What size were you looking for?"
"Well, I usually spank him over my knee, so I think smaller is better."
The salesman nodded. "Right. We have a couple smaller ones here. One has holes, the other doesn't. Some people think the holes create more of a sting, but it's a matter of opinion. You can't go wrong with either of them."
"I think I'll get the one with the holes. I like the shape."
"Great! If you're interested in anything else, we got some new items in recently." He took a familiar-looking switch off the wall. "This is the exact model used in government training facilities. Very sturdy and efficient."
Neal's ass tensed reflexively. He remembered all too well how efficient those things were.
Luckily, Peter looked uninterested.
"I'm not interested in long-range implements," he said. "I prefer spanking him over my knee. I'm not sure I trust him to stay still otherwise."
The salesman's eyes lit up. "Have you ever considered a spanking bench? Most of them come with restraints, so you can use any implement you want without your slave causing trouble for you. Let me show you some of our models."
Peter started protest, but the salesman was already leading him over to slave furniture. He stopped beside a floor model of an imposing metal spanking bench. It consisted of a padded surface that sloped downward and four padded arm and knee rests. There were several thick leather straps for restraint, and there were cranks and handles that suggested the contraption could be adjusted.
"This is our most popular model," the salesman said. "As you can see, it elevates the slave's backside for easy access. And it's fully adjustable. Not only can you change the slant, but you can adjust the arm and leg rests."
"I don’t know—"
"It's actually on sale now, so it's a great time to buy."
"You're on commission, aren't you?" Neal said.
The salesman gave him a dirty look. Peter shot a surprised look over his shoulder, but his eyes betrayed amusement.
"Quiet, Neal," he said.
"If you want," the salesman said quickly, "you can have your slave lie on it, so you can see how he fits."
Peter eyed the contraption and then turned to Neal. "Yeah, how about you give it a try?"
Neal decided to play along. He swaggered over to the spanking bench and climbed on. It seemed to support his weight okay, so he lay down on the padded surface and placed his arms and legs on the rests.
He was immediately glad that Peter didn't seem too interested in it. The bench lifted his ass up, and the leg rests held his legs wide apart. If he wasn't wearing clothes, he would be terribly exposed. Peter would be able to do anything he wanted.
"See how convenient it is?" the salesman said. "This bench is so comfortable that you can even use it instead of making him stand in a corner. It's perfectly safe to leave him on it for a few hours, as long as the restraints aren't too tight."
Peter squeezed Neal's thigh. "What do you think?"
Neal knelt up. Did Peter seriously expect him to offer feedback on punishment tools?
Raising his eyebrows, he said, "I could get out of these restraints in five minutes."
Peter looked at the salesman. "I'm afraid he's right. Restraints don't work well with this one. Besides, my wife would kill me if I tried to put this thing in the living room. I think I'll just stick with the paddle for now."
The salesman accepted defeat and rang up the purchase. Neal was more than ready to get out of the store.
As they walked out to the car, he said, "You didn't have to make me try out the spanking bench."
Peter grinned. "Oh, but it was fun. And you didn't have to sass the clerk."
"You didn't seem too upset by it."
"They always have to upsell at those places. It drives me crazy."
Any annoyance Peter might have had toward Neal's attitude appeared to be gone now.
Neal's spirits weren't as good. He didn't feel like being toyed with. As they drove home, he again thought about Kate, and the file he'd seen.
They were going over the Brooklyn Bridge when Peter finally acknowledged Neal's sullenness.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing," Neal said.
"You've been doing this a lot the past couple days. You really expect me to believe nothing's wrong?"
Neal's first instinct was to keep evading the question. But then he stopped himself. Perhaps Peter's lighthearted mood today was making him bolder, or maybe he was just too tired and worried to keep up the charade anymore.
"I know you're investigating Kate," Neal said.
There was a pause. Then, Peter said, "I'm not investigating Kate. What gave you that idea?"
Neal's anger swelled. He'd thought Peter was starting to trust him more. Apparently not.
"I saw the file on your desk. I saw the pictures, the credit card records...."
Peter grimaced. "I didn't mean for you to see that."
Neal scoffed. "Yeah, I figured. What are you doing? Are you hoping she'll lead you to some stash of things I stole? Do you want to arrest her, too?"
"No. God, no. Neal, I'm not investigating her. You've got to believe that. That file you saw, it's all off the record."
"Then what's it for?"
"You've been so focused on her, and with you sneaking out, trying to meet with her, I thought it'd be a good idea to keep an eye on her for a while. That's all. I wanted to make sure she wasn't getting you in any trouble."
Neal studied Peter's face, trying to gauge if he was telling the truth.
"I'm sorry," Peter said. "I didn't realize you'd seen the file. I can imagine what you must've thought."
"What was I supposed to think?"
It still pissed him off, thinking of Peter going behind his back, tracking his girlfriend. And all because Neal had screwed up and gotten caught sneaking out. Kate didn't deserve trouble for that. It hadn't even been her idea to meet.
Still, if Peter was telling the truth, it wasn't as bad as Neal thought. And he could see why Peter had jumped to conclusions. Neal couldn't exactly tell him who he'd snuck out to meet, or who had given him the passport. And he had very few known associates. Peter didn't know about Mozzie, so Kate was the obvious choice.
"Listen," Peter said, "I have the file at home. I'll let you look through it, okay? Would that help convince you that Kate's all right?"
"Yeah, it'd help."
When they got home, Peter brought the file downstairs. He told Neal he'd brought it home last night and kept it in the master bedroom.
Neal spent the next forty minutes looking through it with Peter at his side. Now that he was able to view it at his leisure, he realized that there was nothing incriminating in it. Nothing to indicate that Kate was a suspect of any kind.
There was some doubt when he considered that Peter might have removed things prior to showing him the file. That was a possibility. But he had to trust Peter's word.
Neal did his best to stop worrying about Kate. At least for the time being, he could trust that she wasn't in danger.
Besides, he had other things on his mind.
His allowance was proving to be a disappointment. The money he got was barely more than pocket change, and he had few opportunities to use it. Peter and Elizabeth kept promising to let him go shopping if he wanted, but he had to wait until they had time. And since they accompanied him regardless, it made no difference if he used his allowance or if they made the purchase for him. Either way, the money was legally theirs, not his.
These days, Neal didn't have much time to think about shopping. The Burkes kept him busy. And unlike the Burkes, Neal didn't have the luxury of being tired. When either Peter or Elizabeth was exhausted from work, Neal had to pick up the slack, both domestically and sexually. But when Neal was tired, there was never a guarantee that he'd be let off the clock.
The upside was that he didn't have to worry about insomnia anymore. Most nights, when he went to bed, he fell asleep quickly and slept soundly.
In the beginning of March, Neal began taking Satchmo to the park again. In the winter months, it'd been too cold to go often, or to stay for more than a few minutes.
It was a welcome break. When Neal was out walking Satchmo, there were no other demands on him.
One afternoon, he arrived at the park and found Mozzie already sitting on a bench. He beamed when he saw him. As they got closer, Satchmo sniffed at Mozzie and wagged his tail in recognition.
"Haven't seen you around in a while," Neal said. He unclipped Satchmo's leash and sat down beside Mozzie.
"I've been training my new homing pigeon."
"Estelle has a new brother or sister?"
"A brother, named Francis. Anything interesting going on in your domestic prison?"
Neal chose his words carefully. There were a lot of things he couldn't tell Mozzie. He had too much pride to talk about being punished. And he couldn't say that he was mastering the art of delaying Peter's orgasms during fellatio (Peter wanted it to last longer. No more of the rush jobs that Neal prided himself on).
"They're keeping me busy," Neal said. "They take me to work with them a lot, now, but I still have to take care of the house, too."
"The Suit's forcing you to work for the FBI?"
"He's not forcing me. It wasn't my choice, but I agreed to it. It's interesting work. Sometimes."
"But you see what he's doing, right? He's exploiting you. Making you grovel in front of the feds and condemn other criminals to the same fate that's befallen you."
"It's not like that. They're nice."
"Yeah, like cats are nice to a mouse."
"Exaggerate, much?" Neal threw Satchmo's toy and watched him run off to fetch it. "I did find something the other day. Peter's been keeping an eye on Kate. He has a file."
"He's investigating her?"
"He swears he isn't. He let me look at the file, and it looks legit. He says he's just worried about me meeting with her."
"Because he's a control freak who jumps to conclusions."
"You can't blame him for the conclusions. He knows I've snuck out to meet someone, and he doesn't know about you. Of course he'll suspect Kate."
Mozzie looked uncomfortable, and Neal realized that there had been something tense in his expression from the start.
"Well, his suspicion of Kate may come to an end shortly."
Neal frowned. "Why? What do you mean?"
"I seriously debated telling you about this. It'll just upset you, and there's nothing you can do. So what good is it?"
"Moz," Neal said, raising his voice. "What is it? Is Kate okay?"
"Kate's fine," Mozzie said with a sigh. "She's going to France."
Neal blinked. "So?"
"Permanently, Neal. Or at least for the foreseeable future."
Neal sat back. The wooden slats of the bench were cold, even through the lightweight jacket he wore.
"That's okay," he said. "By the time I'm free, she'll be back. Or I can go there. It's not like we're allowed to see each other now."
"I'm not sure she's planning on a reunion with you. She let the lease expire on your apartment, and she gave me this." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small brass key. "It goes to a storage unit. She put your things there. That is, the stuff the government didn't steal and auction off."
Neal swallowed. "So? She probably just wants me to be able to access it in case she's still over there when I'm freed. That doesn't mean anything."
"She also said to tell you goodbye," Mozzie said, softly. "And she left the bottle."
Neal shook his head. He couldn't believe that Kate had meant it that way. Mozzie was mistaken. Kate was just going abroad for a while, and wanted to make arrangements for their things. She wasn't leaving.
That was what he wanted to believe. But as Mozzie's words sank in, he was less confident.
"Moz, I have to see her before she goes. You have to get her to meet with me."
"How?" Mozzie said, spreading his arms. "I can't force her to come, unless you want me to kidnap her."
"Of course I don't want you to kidnap her. Just tell her we need to talk."
"I can't. I don't even know where she's staying right now. She's been under the radar for months."
"But she's not under Peter's radar...."
"Neal, what are you saying?"
"I could talk to Peter. Get him to contact her for me."
"That's a terrible idea. He's not going to help you. And even if he would, you can't trust him. He's a suit. Remember that."
"What other choice do I have? If you're right, I can't just let Kate go. I might never find her again."
Neal looked down and realized that Satchmo was by his feet. He had his squeaky ball in his mouth and he looked up at Neal hopefully. Absently, Neal took the ball from Satchmo's mouth and tossed it for him.
"I know this isn't what you want to hear," Mozzie said, "but maybe you just have to let her go."
A cool breeze blew in, chilling Neal and whipping his hair back. The weather was on the line between winter and spring. It seemed like that was how Neal's life was these days—he would have control, and then a harsh wind would knock him back down.
"For what it's worth, I'm sorry," Mozzie said. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news."
"It's not your fault. I'm glad you told me. When is she going?"
"Her flight leaves Monday. Five PM."
Neal pulled his jacket closed. Satchmo came running up again but this time, Neal didn't pick up the ball when Satchmo dropped it at his feet. Instead, he absently scratched behind Satchmo's ears while Mozzie tried to cheer him with more talk of his homing pigeons.
Neal knew Mozzie didn't understand, but Peter was his only hope. As a slave, he had to rely on his owners for almost everything. And Peter tried to be fair, at least. He had to understand what this meant to Neal.
Neal broached the subject in the car the next morning. He would have preferred to wait and butter Peter up first. But he didn't have time for that.
"I saw someone I know the other day," Neal said.
Peter gritted his teeth. "Neal, you know you're not supposed to meet with people."
"I wasn't 'meeting' with anyone. I ran into him. And he told me Kate is leaving the country on Monday. She's moving to France, and she might not come back. You need to find her, Peter. I have to talk to her."
Peter just shook his head. "Neal...." he said sadly.
He didn't look surprised.
Neal looked at Peter's eyes. "Wait, you already knew, didn't you?"
He wanted to kick himself for not anticipating this.
"You mean, that she was going to France?"
"You've been keeping tabs on her. You knew, and you didn't tell me."
Peter sighed. "She made her plane reservations a couple weeks ago. And she let the lease on the apartment you guys shared run out on the first. Yeah, I knew."
"And you weren't going to say anything?" He couldn't stop the feeling of betrayal from coming out in his voice. He'd really believed that Peter would tell him if something happened with Kate. Especially after he'd shown him the file.
He realized now that there must have been items missing from it when Peter showed it to him. If Peter knew about the plane reservation, he would have recorded it in the file.
Peter had lied to him.
"What would it have accomplished?" Peter asked. "It just would have upset you when there's nothing you can do about it."
"There's something you can do. You can let me see her, just for a few minutes. If I could just talk to her—"
"No."
"Peter—"
"I said no," Peter said firmly. "I'm sorry, but it's not going to happen."
Neal felt like he was shaking. His head swam.
"I can't believe it," he said. "I can't believe you're so possessive that you won't let me talk to her one last time."
"Oh, this has nothing to do with me, and you know it," Peter snapped. He raised his voice and took his eyes off the road to look at Neal. "This is all on you. You need to learn to let go. I know you want to see her, but trust me, it wouldn't be what you're hoping for."
"How do you know?" Neal spat.
"Neal, I...." Peter turned his eyes back to the road. He swallowed, perhaps reacting to Neal's wounded tone. Sympathy shone in his eyes. Or perhaps it was pity. He shook his head. "This isn't open for discussion. You need to listen to me on this."
If it wasn't open for discussion, then Neal was on his own. He would find his own way to get to Kate. He'd given Peter a chance to help, and now Peter couldn't blame him for anything he might do.
They rode the rest of the way in stony silence.
Neal did what Peter said—he didn't bring up Kate again. A couple times over the course of the day, Peter gave Neal a vaguely distrustful look, as though he was suspicious of Neal's willingness to let the topic go.
But Neal didn't give him anything to worry about. He did his work, and waited.
His chance came toward the end of the day, when Peter left Neal alone in his office while he went to the restroom. Neal took a quick peek to make sure he wasn't being watched, and set to work.
He fished a large paperclip out of a holder on the desk. Peter kept a few small tools in one of his desk drawers. He'd probably been a Boy Scout once. Neal remembered seeing a small pair of pliers. He found them, and a couple minutes later, he'd bent the paperclip into a makeshift lock pick.
He looked at his watch. He didn't think he had more than another couple minutes before Peter returned. He set to work on the locked bottom desk drawer. Luckily, even in the FBI, desk drawers weren't hard to pick. He had it open in seconds. Now he had the lockbox to deal with.
That lock was a little more complex, but only slightly. But even the simplest locks got his chest pounding when he only had a few minutes.
He breathed a sigh of relief when the box popped open. There were several collar keys inside. Each resembled a miniature flash drive, but with small metal prongs that could fit inside the lock mechanisms. Neal knew that his collar had a Wilson-Barre lock, and he recognized the correct key from when Peter had taken his collar off.
When he found it, he smiled and allowed himself a second of relief before stowing the key in his pocket.
He'd just closed the box and set it back in the drawer when he heard a noise by the door. He looked up, expecting to see Peter. But it was Diana, carrying a file folder.
"Hey," she said, "Peter around? I have a report for him."
Neal's heart was pounding. He realized that she couldn't see the open drawer from where he was standing. If he played it cool, she might not notice anything amiss.
"He just stepped out. Should be back in a minute. You can leave the report on the desk, if you want. I'll let him know it's here."
Diana hesitated. She was probably debating waiting there until Peter returned. Neal sat back in Peter's chair, trying not to draw attention to the open drawer. He wondered if he could inch it closed with his foot without making noise.
Smirking, Diana said, "You're worse than a cat, you know. You always take Peter's chair as soon as he gets up."
"What can I say?" Neal said with a shrug. "It's comfortable. I should get my own chair, don't you think?"
"Yeah, sure." She dropped the file on the desk. "Tell him I dropped this off, okay?"
Neal sank into the chair with relief as she turned around. Just as she was leaving, Peter appeared on the steps.
Before Neal could panic again, Diana stopped him outside the office door. She seemed to be telling him about the report, but Neal wasn't listening. He closed the drawer as fast as he could without drawing attention to himself.
Without the keys, he couldn't re-lock the drawer or the box. He just had to hope Peter wouldn't think to check the drawer before they left.
When Peter finally came in, Neal was idly tossing a rubber band ball in the air. Peter grabbed it out of the air and set it down.
"You ready to go home?" Peter asked.
Neal got up. "You mean, and put away the mortgage fraud cases? Do you really need to ask?"
"Okay," Peter said with a smile. "Let me grab my things."
Neal watched him nervously. Peter filed away the report Diana had left, and then grabbed his phone off the desk. Then he bent over and reached for the desk drawers.
Neal couldn't tell if he was reaching for the bottom one or not, but he had to stop him just in case.
"You know," he said, "I've been thinking, and you're right. About Kate. I shouldn't have asked you to take me to her."
Peter stopped and turned to look at Neal. He regarded him for a moment, and then stood up and reached for his coat.
"I'm glad to hear that. And I really am sorry I can't help you." Peter pulled on his coat and slapped Neal on the shoulder. "C'mon. Let's go home."
Neal followed him to the elevator. While they waited, he reached into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around the key.
Chapter 22
