Chapter Text
Fornell closed the file and the smirk on his face grew larger. He stood up, walked around the table and poured himself a stiff drink. He patted his slave on the head, leaning in and took his mouth in a deep kiss before straightening up and taking a sip of the drink. These types of file landed on his desk frequently and normally he hated working on them. This one was one of the worst he’d seen in a long time however he had a feeling the case would have a happy conclusion. Only one problem – he needed to convince his best friend and fellow slave owner his plans had merit. He sighed as he thought about Jethro Gibbs. The man was a conundrum if he’d ever seen one.
Gibbs was best known for the second ‘b’ in his last name. More than one owner and slave (although they would never say something like that aloud) agreed that the ‘b’ stood for Bastard, and yes, in essence, that was what Gibbs was – a bastard. He was one hard ass owner, not caring on whose toes he trampled or what anyone else thought about him. The slaves he trained, he ruled with an iron fist, but never in his life had he ever mistreated a slave, or punished a slave out of anger. The slaves trained by him were of the highest quality out there and none of them had ever said a bad word against their training Master. In fact, Fornell was sure that every slave ever trained by Jethro Gibbs would not hesitate one second to lay his or her lives down for him. He couldn’t think of any other slave owner, including himself, who could say that.
For Gibbs there was a clear distinction between what was right and what was wrong. Unfortunately, most people didn’t live by that code anymore. It was because of that decline in society that the heap of files on his table multiplied by the dozen. Fornell took his drink and made his way back over to his seat. He knew he had to get this slave into the care and custody of Gibbs. He was sure the sparks would fly between the slave and master but if everything worked out, Gibbs would finally have a slave he could call his own. The young man, whose eyes bore into Fornell’s mind when he first saw his photo, would get a place he could call home and a master who would care for him until the day he died.
Fornell opened the file again, took up his pen and started making notes in the margin. Anthony DiNozzo was born twenty-eight years ago and where, normally by now, a slave of his age was settled into a home, serving his Master to the best of his ability, DiNozzo still spent more time in one after the other slave placement centers than with a Master of his own. Each and every time he got returned with another note made to his file - not compatible for ownership. Fornell didn’t believe that for one moment, in fact, he was sure that none of the many owners DiNozzo had ever took the time to read his file; a file that spoke of some disturbing things and the main reason why DiNozzo’s file ended up on his desk.
Tony was the only child born out of a Master/slave union. Tony’s mother died when he was only eight years old and his biological father and owner of his slave-mother revoked all of his paternal rights and obligations he had over the young boy and saw him enter his first slave center at that tender age.
From the file it was clear that even before Tony was placed in his first center, abuse (emotional and physical) had been already part of his early childhood. Report after report indicated that Tony had no bonded relationship with either his deceased mother or his birth father. It was clear that both parents had no time for the child, letting him grow up without really defining his role in society for him. He was seen as being too good for his fellow slaves because of his lineage, yet those who were free looked down upon him. No one ever thought about what that kind of treatment did to Tony’s young mind.
The medical reports made available showed that Tony was small for his age, malnourished and emotionally blunt. Where in the first few years of his education in his new environment, he was supposed to get the necessary support, counsellors, teachers and even medical personnel overlooked him, labelled him with terms such as delinquent, a menace, untrainable, and failure. By the time he was labelled for the last time he’d only turned eighteen.
And yet, if anyone had turned the page and looked at his test results on every other subject, he was characterized a near genius. He had a natural aptitude for languages. Had great mathematic skills and could solve any puzzle you placed in front of him within in mere minutes. He blossomed when he had to take care of small children or animals. All of that had been ‘swept under the carpet’ because he was labelled incorrectly. The slim pickings of praise caught Fornell’s attention foremost. It was clear that a well-placed compliment or something as simple as ‘good job’ made the slave work harder. The moment he was ignored, he clamped shut and you could get a donkey to be more agreeable than the slave. He didn’t need to be coddled, but needed to know that he mattered and the submissive qualities picked up would make him flourish into a slave that any master would be proud of. If Fornell played his cards right, Tony would become that slave and Gibbs would have what he always ached for. A slave to call his own. A slave that called him master and meant it.
As he placed his pen down, he had his phone. It was time to get the ball rolling and he knew just where to start. He smiled when Ducky answered the phone. “Doctor Mallard, Fornell speaking. I found the perfect slave for Gibbs and I need your help.” He grinned as the old doctor laughed with glee.
o0o – SE2015 – o0o
Gibbs frowned as his best friend and his mentor boxed him in at their favorite diner. He took little note of Fornell’s slave McGee that kneeled next to the man on his right while Ducky’s slave Palmer kneeled at his own master’s side. He pushed the pang of jealousy down deep. “What are the two of you up to, Tobias?” He addressed his friend first.
“Nothing, why?” Fornell asked innocently.
“Nothing?” Gibbs shook his head and turned to his mentor. “Ducky?”
Doctor Mallard shook his head. “Why, my dear, Jethro, we’re only here to eat some breakfast with you. Why would you accuse us of anything?”
“Really, Duck? You want to play it like that?” Gibbs sighed. “If the two of you are planning to hook me up with another date, just forget about it, I’m not interested.”
Ducky sighed and Fornell snickered. “We’ve realized our mistake. No more dates for you. Promise.”
“If that’s supposed to make me feel better, then I’ve got bad news for you. The two of you are up to something and I want no part in it.” He looked up as their waiter appeared and quickly rambled of his order. His eye caught a slave inching closer to his master across from them, accepting the morsel of food handed to him with only his lips. The look on the slave’s face spoke of utter devotion. Gibbs looked away quickly.
“Trust me when I say, it’s nothing like that, Jethro.” Ducky pushed his glasses back on his nose and looked uncomfortable. “Nothing at all.”
“Then stop looking like that, Duck.” Gibbs snarled and then sighed as he picked up the small tremble going through Ducky’s slave. The young man always cringed away from him.
Ducky didn’t say a word, but merely sighed and then shook his head.
Tobias didn’t say anything either, instead he placed his hand behind his own slave’s head and pulled the man closer. “You’ve been a good boy this whole week, you deserve this treat.” With his one hand still on the back of his slave’s head, he undid his fly with the other and pushed Timothy’s head against his crotch. He sighed in content as his slave’s talented mouth took him in and started sucking on his shaft. “Nice and easy, boy. This is not a race, just make it good.” He leaned back and smiled.
“He’s come such a long way, Tobias.” Ducky ignored the man between him and Fornell as he focused his attention on Tobias’ slave.
“And so much more focused on his tasks, Ducky.” Fornell spoke with pride.
“Good, good to you, boy.” Ducky praised the still suckling slave and pulled his own closer. Fornell and Gibbs looked on as Ducky shared a lingering kiss with his own boy before whispering something in his ear that made the boy blush. Ducky laughed and it made both the other slave owners feel good to hear that joyful noise. They were all very worried about their older friend after his mother passed away. Luckily, he found a good match with the young slave Jimmy Palmer, although Gibbs was still of the opinion that the boy need to grow some backbone.
“I guess you’re right, Ducky, but you know me, I’m always the optimist.” Fornell continued their conversation as his hips thrust forward and he sighed in content. “I’ll make the call as soon as we’re done here.”
“Mm, it may be for the best. The sooner you do it the better.” Ducky took a piece of toast as the waiter placed their orders on the table and buttered it. He took a bite for himself before passing the piece of bread to his slave. “Eat up, boy. We need to get some meat on those bones of yours.” He helped himself to a piece of bacon and ate with joy.
“True, Ducky. I know Jenny is on duty at the center this coming few weeks, I’m sure she’ll be more than willing to take the boy in.” Neither of the men tried to explain the conversation they were having.
Gibbs could feel the hairs on his neck stand to an end. He had a few friends and plenty of people that hated his guts. One of them was Jenny Sheppard. A mistress, born out of money, one of those that treated slaves as objects and nothing more. The two men ignored him further as they continued their conversation.
“True, true. She will be the perfect place for him until his new master is able to take him in. You said it was Trent Kort, that British fellow, correct?” Ducky fed his slave some more and looked on as Tobias pushed Timothy off his cock and kissed him hard.
Tobias nodded in agreement and then addressed his slave. “Let’s eat first, boy.” Fornell smiled as he fed a fork full of fluffy scrambled eggs to his slave before taking a bite for himself.
Gibbs bristled with anger at the name. Trent Kort was worse than Jenny Sheppard. There were enough allegations against him of maltreatment towards his slaves, but the men he owned were too intimidated to file any charges against him. He silently shook his head. It had nothing to do with him. He had to keep out of it. He knew Tobias wouldn’t place a new slave with either of the masters he mentioned if it wasn’t properly sanctioned. He just had to remember – it had nothing to do with him.
Tobias knew the telltale signs of his best friend’s anger, at the moment they were pushing all of Gibbs’ buttons, and they were pushing them hard. He knew Ducky also so saw it as the retired doctor spoke up again. “I am sure the Board knows what they are doing, they always do.”
Tobias shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not so sure they had much of a choice this time around, Ducky. I’m of the opinion that although they might be compatible as master and slave, in the long run, I don’t think it would be in the boy’s best interest to be there. But, we can only hope that it works out.”
Gibbs couldn’t control it any longer. “The Board is placing a special case with Kort? Why? Do they want the slave to be damaged permanently?”
Ducky made a point to look over at Fornell before he replied. “No, no. Nothing like that.” He busied himself with their food again, acting as if the topic was closed.
Gibbs steamed. The Board only acted in those instances where they felt it was in the interest of society to intervene. They dealt with disciplinary matters against both slaves and masters, but other than that they were seen as an institute with no power, just an image for good governance and nothing more. “Why is he going to Kort?”
It was Tobias’ turn to look at Ducky before he replied. “The slave’s got some disciplinary problems. He’s been labelled as untrainable and the board felt that due to his age they’re willing to give him a final chance.”
“A final chance? You mean they’re going to lock him up in a six by six cell for the rest of his natural life and that’s that.” He had to calm himself down, as he wanted to scream out the words.
“You know it’s how it works, Gibbs. If he’s untrainable, he’s useless. Why must we as a society work for him if he doesn’t work for us? Surely it’s then better for him to be locked up.” Fornell was glad that they were in a public place as he was sure that Gibbs would’ve slammed him against the nearest wall if they were in any other place.
“That’s bullshit, and you know that. And why Kort? They know of the allegations against him.” Gibbs could feel himself tremble with anger.
“There was no one else to take him in, Jethro.” Ducky supplied the answer. He kept his voice low and laced with sorrow.
“Where is the slave now?” Gibbs heard himself ask the question even as his mind told him he was doing the wrong thing.
“He’s in Long Island, New York. He will arrive here late tomorrow afternoon. Since it’s deemed he can’t be kept with other slaves, he can’t stay at the center. Jenny will take him to her place for the next few days until Kort returns from overseas and then he’ll take him over as his primary slave.” Fornell explained quietly and held his breath.
Gibbs sighed and lowered his head. “How old is he?”
“Twenty-eight.” Ducky answered. “He’s not in great health, but still strong.” He didn’t add that the reason why the slave was under the weather was that his last master decided that to keep him out in torrential rain for a week as a lesson. The boy learned nothing, except that he nearly died from pneumonia.
“Where’s his file?” Gibbs asked and pushed his plate away. He was no longer hungry.
Fornell kept the smile off his face as he reached into his briefcase and pulled out the thick folder. “You can have a quick look at this. Need to hand it over to Jenny with him tomorrow afternoon.” He spoke the words, even though Gibbs knew how the procedure worked.
Gibbs grunted something neither Ducky nor Fornell could make out and then flipped open the file. The photo that stared at him screamed of distrust, but there was something caught by the lens of the camera that spoke of a need. A need Gibbs was sure wouldn’t be filled by either Jenny Shepard or Trent Kort.
“I’ll take him.” He closed the file and looked at the two men to the sides of him. “I’ll train him.” One part of his sentence Gibbs didn’t say aloud. His gut told him that he would keep this slave; the young man would become his permanently.
Neither man made any motion of objection to the suggestion. They knew when to let go of a topic and now was the right time for it. They nodded in agreement, as they jumped for joy within. Their cunning plan worked and Jethro Gibbs would soon be the very proud owner of the slave called Anthony DiNozzo.