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Show Dog (LustfulSins & Ahlaway)

The yelp brings a smirk to Liam's face. Unfortunately for Ezra, Liam can hear the bitterness, as he traces his fingers between the boy's cheeks. Then he pulls his hand away to walk around in front of the boy again. This time when he grabs Ezra, it's with his hand around the boy's throat. But it's not a tight grip, almost like he's sizing up his neck.

"Were you born into slavery, or sold into it?" Again, Liam drops his hand, turning and walking to his closet. He pulls down a small chest, maybe five pounds total, and sets it on the dresser. He takes his time rustling through the contents. When he turns around again, he's holding a pale blue leather collar with silver hardware. A sturdy silver ring is set between the two layers of leather making the collar.
 
The hands around his throat make the slave flinch, clearly expecting some from of anger and punishment, but when it doesn't come after a heartbeat he hesitantly opens his eyes once more, watching his master with an uncertain sort of curiosity.

"Sold into it, sir. My father had a...rather large debt and skipped town shortly before they came to collect it." Which had been all well and good, as the old man wouldn't have fetched nearly as much as his golden eyed son. Or so the slavers had told him, when he'd tried and failed to convince them to let him help them find the man. He loved his father. He did. But not enough to give up his freedom. Not that he wouldn't have just ended up here eventually, with nothing to his name and no real skills.

Said golden eyes follow Liam's movements as he goes through the box, landing on the collar when the man turns around. It causes a mix of emotions in his stomach he's not sure how to even begin to decipher so he simply tries to ignore them for the time being.
 
Liam listens to Ezra's words as he walks back to the boy. It's not surprising that his sale into slavery is the result of another's debt. It doesn't change his status, though. People, especially their children, are sold to cover debts all the time. It's commonplace in this world, and nobody thinks twice about it.

Liam circles Ezra's throat with the collar, buckling it tight. He can still get one finger beneath the leather, but barely, so Ezra can still breathe easily. "I'll get you a tag later. My rules are simple. Never ignore, never leave the house without me or go outside without permission. You'll wear what I pick for you, no refusals. Disobedience brings punishment, and I can get quite creative. Am I understood?"
 
The collar felt heavier on his throat than he knew it was. It all felt terribly...final. Which was stupid. His life had been over the moment he'd been dragged from his father's house, yet a part of his brain hadn't accepted it until this moment, when he was owned and collared and helpless to do anything to stop it.

"Yes sir." They were basic enough rules, if vague enough at certain points to give him a spike of anxiety. However, he was trying to think as positive as he could. And behave enough for them to get off on a good foot. "What would you like of me right now, sir?"
 
Liam tilts his head at the question, though in his mind, he's thinking about what he wants to start with. The boy says he hasn't been touched by more than toys, so simply mounting him and introducing him properly to his new life would be best. No harm in learning his body before breaking it. But first..

"Shower. That cheap shit they give slaves at the auction house smells awful." Liam turns and heads for the bathroom, expecting Ezra to follow him. The shower stall is large, with two rain style showerheads overhead, and a third that can be taken off the wall. There's a grip bar on the wall across from the clear sliding door at six feet from the floor, and another at four feet from the floor. The triangular corner tub is separate, and looks large enough for three people. Liam pulls a pair of large white towels from the cupboard under the extended sink counter, setting them on top and within reach of the shower, then starts the shower water.
 
Well, that wasn't a command that Ezra was going to complain about. He had to agree, after all. Everything the slaves were given was cheap and gross, and even if it wasn't they hardly got enough time to use it properly. This lead to him being technically clean, but never clean enough that he actually felt like it, so he was more than happy to follow his master into the bathroom, golden eyes widening as he openly marveled at the room.

He may need to take back what he said about the house earlier.

Fair fingers work the band holding his ponytail free, letting his hair fall about his shoulders as he watches his master set everything in place. The grab bars- or perhaps just the fact that there are multiple- make him a bit cautious, but a good shower is quickly decided to be worth the risk. "Your house is lovely, sir."
 
Liam hums quietly, gesturing to the shower. Then he strips his pants and briefs, and steps in himself, the water quickly soaking his blond hair. He looks back at Ezra through the clear walls of the stall. "Are you coming in or not? If you're worried about the collar, don't. It's water treated."

Liam hooks a finger at Ezra, picking up his shampoo. Once the boy steps in, Liam sets to lathering his hair. His nails scrape across the boy's scalp, intent on getting the shampoo to strip all the cheap chemicals off Ezra's hair.
 
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Ezra only hesitated a second more, fingers lifting to touch his collar absently at the comment, before moving to join his master in the shower. This was....way nicer than it had any right to be, and much to his embarrassment a small moan escaped his lips when his master started working shampoo into his hair. Though, in his defense, even everything around this arrangement couldn't change the fact that this was his first warm shower since he'd been taken.

The black locks brushed his shoulders, and were soft even with the poor treatment from the cheap chemicals and quick, cold showers. Meaning it would be all the softer with proper care.
 
The small moan makes Liam chuckle. He knows that feeling, of having someone else wash your hair. He'd had his previous slave do so many times, though he'd never had the firm touch Liam gives Ezra. Then he purposely ruins it by pulling Ezra's hair to tie his head back into the water flow. His fingers work through to rinse the suds from the boy's hair.

"How old are you, Ezra?" Liam may as well learn a bit about the boy he will be turning into his new toy. Someone may as well know enough to remember him, if he cowards out like the last one. Liam allows Ezra to lift his head again as he picks up the conditioner next. The shampoo has left Ezra's hair feeling like straw, which is good. It stripped the strands of all the chemicals. The conditioner would give the strands hydration, real softness. Not softness provided by cheap shit like a mask. Once again, Liam's fingers drag through Ezra's hair.
 
Ezra couldn't quite bit off the cry of pain when his hair was pulled, flinching and body tensing once more in response to the pain. He really should have seen that coming. Or at least been smart enough to know better than to relax in the hands of a master. The man could do whatever he wanted to him and get away with it. Which...was a feeling that made his stomach flip, when he actually let himself turn it over in his head.

"Twenty s-sir. Or I was, last I kept track." He didn't know how long he'd been in the training facility. There were no windows, purposefully to make the experience feel like an endless cycle with no set beginning or end. For all he knew, it could have been months or years since he'd been taken.
 
That cry of pain was somehow satisfying, like forcing the attention back to himself. This time though, his pull is gradual, not to cause pain, as Liam rinses the conditioner from Ezra's hair. Now, it feels like silk. Liam picks up the body wash next, squirting some into his hands.

"Twenty. Eight years younger. Though, you could be sixteen and still belong to me, for all it matters." Liam's hands roam Ezra's body, lathering skin, only for the suds to be rinsed away by the rainfall showerheads. Ezra is mostly clean anyway, it's more to make him smell better than the cheap soap the auction house provides. His hands aren't shy, either, far from it. They rub the boy's nipples, across his groin, dip between his thighs. Then his left hand presses flat to Ezra's abdomen, while his right fingers slide between his ass cheeks.
 
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