Jason Masters

Onion the Orphan

Chapter 1
The Beginning of The End

'Onion' was what the other boys had labelled him, but that was when he at least still had a mother. When he could still go to school. His situation since had become worse by far.

Born of an unwed mother who was abandoned by her boyfriend immediately he knew she was pregnant, and also rejected by her family, Onion's mother had at first tried her best to look after her child. She'd struggled to provide for the boy, ensuring that he went to school and was fed and clothed, but it had been a losing battle from the start. In time, she'd had to turn to prostitution to earn sufficient money. That had led to the drugs.

At first, she'd only taken a low dose, to help her to cope with the shame and to relax for her clients, but addiction had followed and gradually the dose had increased until the drugs were an expense in and of themselves as well as becoming the main reason for earning more money.

From being a loving mother concerned with raising a son, Onion's mother had slowly deteriorated over the years into a self-centred and selfish drug addict, concerned mainly with getting her next dose, and Onion had suffered because of it.

Of course, 'Onion' wasn't his real name. Nicholas had been saddled with that name on a particular day when, as had become commonplace for him, he'd gone to school without breakfast and with no money to buy lunch. The cupboards at home had been bare but on the way to school, the starving boy had found a raw onion in the street, possibly lost out of someone's shopping the day before. In desperation to put something into his empty stomach, the boy had seized upon the vegetable and gnawed on it as his only meal that day.

With his threadbare clothes, the boy was already not exactly popular at school and his onion-breath that day had driven the final nail into the coffin of his social standing. On that day he had gained his label, 'Onion.' Socially shunned by his peers, the boy simply stopped trying to gain anyone's approval or to socialise in the least.

It was two months later when Onion for all intents and purposes became an orphan.

Arriving home after school, the boy had found the apartment silent. After his usual fruitless hunt through the cupboards to try to find a scrap of overlooked food, he'd at last gone to his mother's bedroom to beg for some money to buy something to eat. It usually worked. His mother wasn't yet totally indifferent to his needs, although he needed to beg and plead with her each time before she would reluctantly give up a little of her precious drug money.

When he stepped into her bedroom, Onion could see his mother was lying motionless on the bed and somehow, the boy knew the truth instantly.

Dispassionately, the boy had walked over and laid the back of one hand against his mother's cheek.

It was cold. Her stillness was that of death.

Onion had realised at least a year earlier that this would probably be how things would end. There was nothing he could do about it. Nothing he could have done would have prevented it, yet he felt somehow, that he had failed her. His mother had been supposed to look after him, yet for a long time it had been more like he had been looking after her. Now, that had ended. She was gone.

Whether his mother had overdosed on drugs, been murdered by a client or had died for another reason, Onion didn't know. Nor was it particularly important to him. The person lying motionless on the bed wasn't his mother. That person had died long ago, when the drugs had taken control. The only difference now was that her body had caught up with her absent soul.

When the boy searched the room, he turned up a surprising amount of cash. It was obvious that even supposing his mother had been murdered, the motivation hadn't been robbery. There was enough money for the boy to eat for a month at least, if he were careful how he spent it.

Onion had already thought through what he would do when this day came. He didn't want to be sent to an orphanage or anywhere else where he'd have to associate with people. Nobody liked him; that was firmly established in the boy's mind. Nobody would want a boy like him, so he'd have to look after himself, if he could. The boy packed what clothes he could and a few blankets into his school backpack and, taking the money, a photograph and one piece of paper which he had an idea may be important some day, left the apartment forever.

Onion called the police from a public telephone once he was far enough away from the apartment and told them the address and that there was a dead body in the apartment, then he ended the call and walked away. It was the last service he could perform for the one who had, a long time ago, loved him.

In this way, Onion's life as a street kid had begun.

***

It had taken two years on the streets for him to come to the point he was at now. Two long, lonely years of almost constant hunger after his money ran out, begging strangers for cash and performing the occasional blow job to persuade generosity where it was otherwise lacking.

Onion never allowed more than that, although he'd had several offers and more than once had narrowly escaped being raped. But to him, it was all part of life on the streets, along with dodging police patrols so that he would not end up being put 'into care' and having to endure the shame which he believed would inevitably result from prolonged social contact.

Only rarely could the boy afford to pay to wash his clothes at a coin laundry, or find a place to wash himself. When his clothes became too small, he'd had to spend precious cash at an opportunity shop to replace the threadbare remains of his garments but those replacements now really needed replacing again.

Winter always was the worst time of the year for the homeless. Usually, Onion managed to find a sheltered place to sleep so he would at least be out of the rain, but he couldn't afford much in the way of warm clothing so he was cold nearly all the time and not even a good wanking, which he performed frequently, helped.

Onion suspected that he'd narrowly avoided losing his toes to frostbite after one very frosty night. His toes had hurt for weeks and it had been difficult for him to walk during this time, but he'd recovered. Hospital care was out of the question. They would have immediately called the police.

The morning of what was to be, unknown to him, Onion's last day as a street kid dawned like any other.

Autumn had set in and, as the daylight shortened and the nights lengthened, so did the cold of night creep more insistently through the one blanket Onion had to sleep in at night. It was one of the blankets he'd taken from the apartment when he'd left.

The other blankets he'd taken had fallen apart from age and hard usage. This particular blanket had lasted longest because it was mostly synthetic cloth, but that also meant that it was the least insulating of them all. Onion knew he'd need to buy another, better blanket if he were to survive the coming winter and that meant spending cash which he needed for food. It was an unenviable choice: Should he buy food and risk freezing to death, or would he buy a blanket and risk starvation?

Onion left his few belongings in their usual hiding place inside the cold, drafty, derelict building where he currently slept, then headed for one of his better begging spots, near a shopping mall. He was filthy – even more so than usual – but he'd discovered that this, combined with his pleading, grey-blue eyes, seemed to earn him more money than when he was clean. He needed to earn plenty of money if he was going to eat today and still have enough left over for the blanket he needed.

As fickle chance would have it, the day was rainy, windy and cold. Few people ventured out in such weather, preferring to wait for a less inclement day to do their shopping. Onion stood outside the mall (the security guard would have immediately called the police if he'd dared to venture inside in his present state) and waited, his hand out in his accustomed begging pose, but shoppers were scarce and those few who had ventured out did not seem to want to take the extra time to open their wallets, so hour followed hour with few coins being forthcoming.

To say that pickings were slim that day would be more than accurate. By the time the sun was setting behind the still-evident rain clouds, poor Onion had collected barely enough money to buy a snack. Certainly, there was no hope today of buying the blanket he needed. To add to Onion's misery, even after the almost constant drizzle which had soaked him stopped, the freezing wind still bit right through his inadequate clothing. The only good point, and it was a small one, was that the police tended not to patrol the mall on such days.

Weary and sleepy from the cold, Onion had just decided to leave his begging spot when he saw something which made his heart leap with hope and temporarily banished his fatigue.

Striding through the cold wind toward the mall entrance was a young man who Onion knew, from past experience, to be a soft touch. He'd usually drop a coin or two into Onion's hand as he went past and often, he'd even hand the boy a currency note. Some good luck at last!

The man nodded to Onion as he passed, but nothing more. Onion didn't worry. It was normal behaviour for this young man. Usually, he gave money as he left, not as he arrived. Onion waited outside the mall for the young man to finish his shopping and return.

Twenty minutes passed then the young man returned, carrying a shopping bag. He stopped near Onion who looked expectantly at him, hand outstretched for the inevitable donation.

"Hell of a night, isn't it?"

Onion was flabbergasted. Nobody ever spoke to him, unless it was to yell at him to go away. For a moment, he didn't know how to respond, then the tattered remains of his social skills resurfaced, allowing him to reply with some measure of dignity.

"Yeah. Gonna be cold. Can you spare something?" Hand still outstretched, begging.

"How about instead of money, you come home with me? You can have a shower, wash your clothes and I'll give you a good meal and a bed for the night?"

It was as blunt an offer as Onion had ever had. For a moment he just stared, his first impulse being to reject the offer since he was certain of the 'strings attached' to it. But Onion knew from previous experience that even the derelict building would not shelter him from the bitter cold that night. The clouds were clearing away and the night would be frosty. He'd be in real danger of freezing to death if he didn't accept this offer.

Despair washed over Onion. He'd known that it would probably come to this sooner or later. He'd managed to put it off as long as he could. What the hell, perhaps it was time to bite the bullet and sell his arse at last. He'd only held out as long as he had because of his fear of the probable pain involved. Onion nodded his agreement, although he was unable to hide the dumb misery which appeared on his face as he contemplated the price he was going to have to pay for accepting the man's help.

A jerk of the young man's head toward the car park was accompanied with a friendly, "come on, then." Now resigned to his fate, Onion mutely followed.

The car was small but clean and the heater was on. Onion hadn't realised just how near to freezing he'd been until he felt the heat. At first, it was too much and he cringed away, feeling as though he was being cooked by the blast of hot air as it made his skin tingle with the pain of returning circulation. The young man gave Onion a concerned look before turning down the heater and redirecting the vanes of the air vents so that the warm air was no longer hitting Onion directly.

As they travelled and his body slowly warmed up again, Onion stole sidelong glances at the young man, trying to evaluate him. Was there a chance of him getting through this without the brutality he'd heard often accompanied the sex act with a paying customer? The young man didn't look violent, but Onion knew that you couldn't judge by appearances. Still, the young man looked pleasant enough in the boy's judgment. But perhaps that impression was only because he resembled Onion in many respects? The colour of both his hair and his eyes were almost an exact match for Onion's own.

The young man suddenly broke the silence.

"What's your name?"

"Onion."

A disbelieving glance.

"Your real name, not a nickname."

Onion considered not telling him, but he couldn't see any harm in it and he didn't want to make the young man angry, considering which aperture in Onion's anatomy he expected the young man to be penetrating, very soon.

"Nicholas."

"Okay. You are now my nephew Nick, and I'm your Uncle Brian."

"Okay." It was an expected deception, in case of nosy neighbours.

It was a longer ride than Nick (as he was now to be called) had expected and it wasn't an apartment but a house in an outer suburb which they eventually arrived at. Brian drove the car into the driveway and up beside the house under a carport near the rear.

"Welcome home, nephew." A joke. Nick didn't respond to it. His stomach churned as he anxiously anticipated what was to come. Rape. Yes, it would be rape. He was unwilling although compliant, so it would be rape. He hoped it wouldn't hurt too badly.

Once inside, Nick was led straight to the bathroom.

"Strip, then turn on the shower and get in and start washing yourself. I'll be with you soon. I have to put stuff away, first."

Brian left the room and Nick obediently stripped, leaving his damp, filthy clothes lying on the floor. He turned on the shower and adjusted the temperature before getting in.

A few moments later, Brian returned and, seeing Nick just standing under the shower not moving, pointed out the soap and shampoo, telling Nick to use both, then he gingerly picked up Nick's clothes and walked out with them. Nick expected he'd only get them back after he'd performed his 'duties' to pay for his shower and the promised food.

Unexpectedly, Nick's empty stomach growled. He had become used to being hungry all the time, but just the thought of food was enough to cause an ache in the thin void where his belly should be.

Still obedient, Nick soaped himself up, allowing himself to luxuriate in the sensation of finally cleansing his body of its caked-on and ground-in grime after being dirty for so long.

Brian returned. He was naked. Without a word, he stepped into the shower with Nick and grabbed the shampoo bottle, then began to wash the boy's hair.

Nick was stunned. He'd expected Brian to join him in the shower soon, but he'd expected to then be immediately bent over and fucked, not to have his hair washed.

After Nick's hair was clean, Brian continued by washing his back and buttocks, including between the crack of Nick's behind, but although Brian's fingers lingered just noticeably when rubbing Nick's arse-hole, he didn't try any penetration.

In spite of his lack of nutrition, Nick was still a young boy with normal urges. It seemed to take only seconds before his penis responded to Brian's touch and was sticking out like a flagpole on the side of a building.

Ashamed of his response to Brian's hands, but unable to resist, Nick allowed himself to be turned around so Brian could wash his front, blushing furiously at the shameful exposure of his erect penis to Brian's amused gaze.

"Don't worry. It's normal."

Well, duh! Thought Nick. He wasn't so little that he was that dumb. He'd discovered how to manipulate his little pecker even before it could squirt. He'd figured out long ago that an erection was normal. But that didn't make it any the less embarrassing now.

But Brian didn't make fun of Nick. He just washed the boy's front, ending up by washing Nick's penis and scrotum. Brian didn't linger over it and although Nick's erection didn't go down, there was no real stimulation.

There was a pause after Brian finished washing Nick. Then Brian spoke.

"Should I take care of that for you? It'll go down faster if you have a climax first. Or you can do it yourself. I don't mind either way."

Brian took a deep breath. It was starting. He resigned himself and answered as he believed Brian wanted him to. After all, the customer is always right.

"You do it."

Immediately Brian reached down and, using soap lather to lubricate his hand, began to masturbate Nick's rigid member.

Nick could hardly believe the feelings he was getting. Although he'd performed blow jobs on several men, he'd never allowed anyone else to even touch him down there in the past. The sensations from Brian's rubbing hand were beyond wonderful. In moments, Nick buckled and moaned as his body began to jerk and his penis to shoot spurt after spurt of seminal fluid onto the floor of the shower, to be washed away at once by the flowing water.

Gasping from the unexpectedly intense pleasure, Nick leaned against Brian's supporting arm which had somehow found its way around Nick's thin body and was holding him with a firm but gentle grasp while Brian's other hand squeezed out the last few drops of semen from Nick's pulsing dick.

"Beautiful," murmured Brian. "Thank you for allowing me to share that with you."

What the heck, you're paying for it, thought Nick. He waited for the instruction to bend over.

It didn't come. Brian rinsed off both of their bodies and turned off the water.

Okay, thought Nick, he wants to do it to me in bed, later.

Brian used a large, fluffy towel to dry Nick's body instead of having Nick do it himself. Nick was a little surprised but submitted calmly. After all, it was rather nice to have someone look after him a little, even if it was only a paying customer.

After they were both dry, Brian hung a dry towel over the bathroom hanger and, indicating it, spoke to Nick.

"You can wrap that around yourself, or stay naked. Whichever you prefer. Your clothes are in the wash."

Sure they are, thought Nick. It may even be true, but I bet that's not the only reason I don't get any clothes to wear.

Nick shrugged and left the towel where it was as he followed Brian out of the bathroom. I may as well get used to being naked.

Brian didn't bother to dress before going to the kitchen with Nick trailing along in his wake, so to speak. Nick watched as Brian opened a can of minestrone soup and emptied it into a bowl then placed the bowl in the microwave oven to heat.

"That's for you. I'll cook something more for both of us later."

Nick stared dully at Brian. Why doesn't he just fuck me and get it over with? But I am hungry. I should eat something to keep my strength up. I'm going to need it.

The microwave buzzed and Brian removed the bowl of soup, placing it on the kitchen table along with a spoon. He stirred the soup for a moment before looking at Nick and waving an arm toward the chair in invitation.

"Sit down and eat. I bet you're so hungry your stomach thinks your mouth is on strike!"

Nick didn't hesitate. He was going to earn this meal. In fact, in his opinion he'd partly paid for it already. Ignoring Brian's joke, Nick sat down in the chair, grabbed the spoon and began to eat, hardly noticing what Brian was doing.

A second later, a few slices of bread were lying next to the bowl.

"Use them to sop up the liquid so you get it all."

Nick nodded briefly. He was far too preoccupied with eating to pay much attention to anything else. It felt so good to eat a proper meal at last, after such a long time of subsisting on whatever he could beg or buy with meagre cash or, occasionally, steal when there was no money.

Brian placed a glass next to the bowl and filled it with water from a jug. Nick could see condensation on the sides of the jug so he knew it had come right out of the refrigerator. Brian put the jug down beside the glass.

"Help yourself."

Nick nodded, and did so. He ate and drank until all the soup and bread and quite a lot of the water were gone. Nick could have eaten more, but he knew not to show ingratitude. He still hoped to get through this without being brutalised, although he was certain he would be raped. There was no sense in doing anything which may antagonise his customer.

"If you need the toilet, it's a separate room just to the left of the bathroom."

Nick nodded and immediately went to the aforementioned cubicle since he did need it.

When Nick returned, he was surprised to see Brian sitting in front of a computer at a desk in the lounge, with a separate laptop system sitting on a coffee table nearby. Both seemed to be running some kind of video game where you looked down on your 'character.'

"Come play a game with me. I've had nobody to play with for so long."

Nick went to the laptop system. There was a separate mouse sitting nearby.

"What do I do?" The game was already running and Nick could see two characters on the screen as he sat down. One was standing in the exact middle of the screen while the other was nearby.

"You're playing an elf archer. I'm playing a half-orc fighter. Your guy can't take a lot of damage so let my guy tank for you while you stay off in the distance and snipe at them with your bow. It's a magic bow, with infinite ammo so you don't need to worry about reloading. If the enemy come after you, try to lead them back to me. The AI isn't very smart and they'll usually focus on me because my guy is a higher level than yours, so long as you keep your distance from them. Point to the ground and click to move to that location. Point to an enemy and click to begin to attack. You'll keep attacking automatically as long as there's an enemy in range. The rest, you'll learn as we play."

It didn't take Nick long to become so engrossed in the game that he completely forgot about his nudity, or even his impending rape. For at least an hour, he and Brian fought their way past hordes of fantasy creatures, occasionally dying and being resurrected to return to the fray, eventually confronting and defeating a 'Boss' enemy.

"Is that it?" Nick felt excited about their victory, but disappointed that the game seemed to be over so soon.

"That's just the first boss, and he was easy compared to the rest! There's four bosses just in this area, then you can go on to other areas. It gets harder but you can get better equipment too."

Nick looked at Brian, remembering where he was and why he was there. He felt a little sick. Soon now. It had to come soon. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Why did time seem to race when you were having fun but slow to a crawl when you were anticipating something bad?

Brian closed down the game on both computers and shut down the laptop.

"How about a movie? Do you have any preferences? I have Lord Of The Rings, both the cinematic and extended versions…" Brian went on to mention many other films, some of which Nick had never heard of.

"…Spirited Away…"

"What's that?" The title had caught Nick's interest.

"Only my favorite movie. A twentieth-century Japanese girl and her parents accidentally find their way into 'The Spirit World' and with her parents enchanted, the girl has to find a way to rescue both them and herself. She has nothing but her politeness and respect for others, plus an unexpected friend. You wanna watch it? I think you'll like it, even if you don't think it's as great as I think."

"Okay." Nick would have preferred to have gotten his 'execution' over with, but perhaps watching a movie would help him to relax.

While the movie was playing, Brian made and served a meal of grilled sausages with a salad followed by buttered pancakes. Nick was still hungry and ate everything placed in front of him while he watched the movie.

Later, thinking back on the movie, Nick was surprised at how simple the story had been. The entire plot could have been summed up in a few sentences, yet it had been so skillfully told that it had held his attention for every second. And the ending had been both beautiful and encouraging.

For the first time in longer than Nick could remember, he wasn't hungry but he was tired. Nick yawned.

"Looks like it's time for bed," came Brian's immediate response to Nick's yawn.

Nick tried to stay calm, but he knew this had to be it. It was time to pay the price for being allowed to shower and for his meal.

"Supper first." Brian went to the kitchen and soon returned with a slice of cake and a glass of milk for Nick, who gulped both down with almost equal speed.

"Go to the toilet if you need to. I'll get your bed ready. Brush your teeth too. You can use the yellow toothbrush. It's a new one."

That was strange, thought Nick as he went to perform his necessary ablutions. Why did he say that? Aren't I going to be sleeping in his bed? Isn't that the whole point of my being here? Maybe it's a figure of speech, or he's teasing me by calling it 'my' bed when it's his?

But when Nick was done, Brian led him to a small bedroom where a bed had been made for Nick. At first, nothing seemed unusual, then Nick noticed the chain padlocked to the side of the bed. Within seconds, Brian had wrapped the other end of the chain around one of Nick's ankles and padlocked it. Nick just stood still, waiting for the inevitable. Now. It had to be now. He couldn't run away, to escape his fate. That had to be the reason he was now chained to the bed.

"I know what you'd do, if you thought you could get away with it."

Nick just stared at Brian in total confusion. What? The question was unspoken, but Brian provided the answer anyway.

"You'd grab any cash and small valuables you thought you could sell and take off with them during the night. Well, you're not going to do that this time. I've got the only keys to those locks, so you're staying here tonight. Tomorrow, I have plans for you."

Nick could still only stare at Brian, dumbfounded by this speech.

Brian turned on a bedside lamp then went to the door and turned out the main light. He paused at the door.

"There's a potty under the bed if you need to 'go' in the night. It has a lid so you can block the smell if you need to poop. Goodnight, sleep tight and there aren't any bed-bugs so they can't bite."

Brian left, closing the door as he went.

For almost a minute, Nick just stood and stared at the closed door, expecting it to suddenly open and Brian to return and announce that it was time for the sexual activity which Nick had been expecting, but no such thing happened.

Still not really believing that it wasn't a trick, Nick finally climbed in between the sheets and turned off the bedside light. The chain locked around his ankle was both light and long enough not to be too much of a bother, but it was also strong. There was no possibility of escape.

Nick lay awake while he waited for Brian to return and demand sex, but it didn't happen and before too long, Nick drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 2
The Strangest Day Ever

A noise caused Nick to jerk awake and sit up suddenly in alarm, momentarily disoriented. Then he remembered where he was as he became aware of his surroundings.

Brian was standing beside the bed, fully dressed and with an amused look on his face as he stared at the naked boy. The bed-clothes had been rolled back and when Nick saw that the chain had been unlocked from his ankle, he realised that the sound of the jingling chain falling to the floor had awakened him.

Light was streaming into the room through a window. It was morning. Nick realised he'd slept all night and so far as he could tell, he hadn't been raped while he slept.

Nor did Brian seem likely to rape Nick immediately, since he'd bothered to dress himself fully. Nick allowed himself to relax slightly as he stared back at Brian, wondering what the young man was playing at. Why was he delaying in taking the 'payment' which Nick expected the young man to demand as his due?

"Let's get you dressed and some breakfast into you, then you have chores to do today. You can't expect to get something for nothing, you know."

Chores. Sure. I bet I know what kind of 'chore' he'll have me do. Maybe he thinks I've never given a blow job before. Nick was still sure that his rape was inevitable; it had merely been delayed. But the mention of breakfast caused Nick to realise that he was ravenously hungry again, his normal state.

As Brian turned around, Nick realised that there was a large cardboard box sitting on a chair behind the young man. It was open. Brian reached in, took something out and turned to face Nick again.

"Put these on."

Nick stared. For a moment, he couldn't believe his eyes. Then the thought came to him, of course. I should have expected something like this.

The underpants which Brian held out to Nick were thin, silky and frilly. Lace-trimmed. Very feminine.

Heck, this guy's a real pervert. But what choice do I have? Nick figured that if he wanted any breakfast, he'd have to do what Brian wanted. And he very much wanted breakfast.

Blushing with the humiliation of what he was doing, Nick took the frilly underpants and began to put them on while Brian drew something else out of the cardboard box, although Nick couldn't see what it was with Brian's body blocking his view. The underpants clung tightly to Nick, accentuating every curve of his body both in the front and over his rear.

Straightening up after putting on the humiliating underwear, Nick got his first good look at what Brian was now holding, and had to clench his teeth to keep from crying out.

No! He can't be serious! Please, no! But Nick knew that complaints would be useless. He'd taken on a paying customer, and he had to do what the customer wanted.

Nick stared into Brian's smiling face and saw the smile fade, replaced by a look of concern at Nick's obvious reluctance. Not good. I have to keep him happy. Nick stood straight and held his hands over his head, ready for the garment to be put on him. The smile returned to Brian's face.

Blushing furiously, Nick stood passively as Brian lowered the frilly, black dress over Nick's body. Other clothing followed, until Nick found himself dressed as a little French Maid, complete with a frilly white apron and black patent leather shoes with long, white frilly socks. At least it's not stockings thought the boy.

Nick was still trying to cope with the shock of being dressed in such humiliatingly feminine clothing when Brian suddenly fastened a set of metal manacles around Nick's small wrists and tightened them until they were just comfortably firm, then turned a key in each lock.

While Nick stared in renewed shock, Brian fastened another set of manacles around Nick's ankles in the same way. Then Brian stood up and stared smilingly at the flabbergasted and humiliated boy for a moment.

"There. That should stop you from running off with any of my stuff while I'm at work. You'll still be able to do your chores like that, but I don't think you'll want to go outside dressed like that unless it's an emergency. I know you don't want to attract any police attention and in that get-up, you'd be sure to attract plenty of attention! Isn't it lucky that I own the company which makes those costumes? Although I bet nobody but me ever expected that costume to be worn by a boy!"

Brian began to leave the bedroom, then paused and beckoned to the stunned boy.

"Come on. I bet you could do with a good breakfast."

Still feeling dazed, Nick followed Brian. The chain between his legs was just long enough for him to walk normally, but Nick could tell that if he tried to run while wearing the manacles, he'd trip on them and fall.

Under Brian's instruction and with his assistance, Nick cooked and served up a breakfast of buttered toast, bacon and eggs, then boy and man both sat at the table to eat. During the cooking, Nick discovered that the short chain between his wrist manacles left him enough movement to do everything required with only minor inconvenience.

After what was, as Brian had said, a good breakfast, the young man handed a piece of paper to Nick.

"Here's your chores for the day."

Nick read the list while Brian made a large stack of sandwiches, wrapping them in plastic wrap and placing them in the refrigerator.

"I know how much a boy your age needs to eat, so I made plenty. There's fruit in the crisper at the bottom of the fridge too. Eat as much as you want, even the lot if you feel the need, so long as you do your chores. If there's anything you don't know how to do, just do the best you can and then tell me when I get home. I don't expect an expert job but I do expect you to work hard and do your best. Do that and you can stay here for as long as you want."

With Nick staring at him in confusion at this unexpected development, Brian headed for the front door, then paused.

"Have a good day."

The door closed behind Brian and a moment later, Nick heard the car start up and drive away. The boy was alone in the house, shackled at wrists and ankles and dressed as a maid.

Still feeling stunned, Nick stared at the closed door for a moment before looking at the list of chores again. Then he looked around, gradually realising how limited his options were.

Brian had been completely correct in his surmise that Nick wouldn't want to attract attention to himself, so going outside in his current condition was out of the question even if he didn't feel so embarrassed by it.

Nick realised that, With the chains joining his wrists and ankles, it was nearly impossible to remove the outrageously humiliating costume he'd been forced into wearing and even had he torn it off his body, he would still have had no way of putting on his normal clothing. The combination of bondage and costume had effectively made him a helpless prisoner. He couldn't go outside or even call for help – not that there was anyone who he could call upon, since he regarded even the police as his enemy.

At first feeling only despairing resignation, Nick started doing the chores on the list, beginning with washing the dirty dishes from last night and breakfast. But before long, Nick realised that his situation was actually quite erotic as his penis became erect and remained that way for quite a long time.

Nick had performed many chores while he'd lived with his mother. In fact, if he hadn't done them during the latter years, they likely would have never been done at all. Nick proceeded to dust, vacuum carpets and clean the bathroom. Interestingly, the toilet wasn't on the list of things he had to clean.

Memories returned to Nick of having to do these exact chores at the apartment because his mother was too drug-addled to bother. He paused during his scrubbing of the bath to breathe deeply. He'd promised himself that he wouldn't cry again, but he broke that promise for a few minutes before returning to his work.

And yet, during most of the time, Nick could feel his stiff penis straining inside the silky fabric of his frilly underpants.

Not daring to take the time for a wank, Nick worked hard, becoming tired as well as hungry again. He looked at a clock and was surprised to see that it was nearly lunch time. After washing his hands at the sink, he ate most of the sandwiches and an orange from the vegetable crisper while he rested, glad that for once he didn't have to either steal the fruit or spend scarce cash to buy it. Then Nick ate a pear, just for the luxury of being able to do so, even though he wasn't really hungry any more.

Washing the laundry was the next chore on the list. As it happened, it was also the last chore on the list. Nick was happy that it seemed he'd finished his chores early. There would be plenty of time to rest and have some fun after. The particular type of 'fun' Nick most wanted to indulge in was, he now realised with some shock, directly connected to his current state of dress and to the restraints he was locked into.

As Nick loaded the washing machine, he saw his clothes lying on a nearby bench, clean and folded. Resentment at his current situation welled up in Nick's heart. Deliberately ignoring his rampant erection, Nick thought that if only he could get these blasted chains off, he'd be able to remove this damnably humiliating costume, put his regular clothes back on and leave at his leisure!

Nick put some washing powder into the machine and started it, then picked up his trousers from the pile of clothing, wishing he could wear them again and regretting that he'd removed them the night before. In fact, right at that moment, he regretted this whole deal.

His trousers felt heavier than usual and in sudden curiosity, Nick felt in the pockets. His probing hand came into contact with two objects he didn't recognise so he drew them out and stared in wonder at what he'd discovered.

A key.

And a large, heavy wad of money, secured with a rubber band.

Nick stared at the items for only a moment before trying the key in his manacles.

It fitted, and turned. One cuff at a time, the manacles came off Nick's wrists and ankles.

Without really thinking, Nick rapidly stripped off the costume he was wearing and dressed himself in his normal clothes, then examined the wad of currency. There was enough there to buy everything he'd need for the winter, and more!

Still not really thinking, Nick stuffed the wad of money back into his pocket and walked out of the house, closing the door behind him.

Nick walked to the corner where he could see a bus stop and examined the timetable. A bus to the city was due soon, and the coins Nick still had from his begging would be sufficient to pay the fare. Even if the driver had change, Nick didn't want to draw attention to himself by using a large-denomination note to pay for a small fare.

During the long bus ride, Nick finally allowed himself to think a little about what he was doing.

He had escaped. That was what Nick wanted to believe, at least. Somehow, inexplicably, the key to his manacles had been left where he could – would – find it along with a fantastic windfall of precious cash. He could buy the blanket he'd need for the winter, new clothes and probably even new shoes and still have money left over for food.

Nick deliberately put all other thoughts out of his head for the time being. Somehow, he couldn't face the implications of how he'd regained his freedom, or how he'd obtained the wad of cash pressing against his leg in the pocket of his trousers.

In the city, Nick went straight to a larger department store and once inside immediately sought out the children's clothing section.

Twenty minutes later, a very different looking boy handed over the clothing tags to the checkout operator with a quick, explanatory "I'm wearing them," and the appropriate amount of cash in payment. Passing a rubbish bin on the street, Nick calmly dropped his old, worn-out garments into it and walked on.

Nick only realised as he approached the abandoned building which he'd been sheltering in that he'd quite forgotten to buy the blanket he needed, but there was still plenty of time to buy it and he wanted to check on his belongings anyway.

None of Nick's belongings had been touched. Everything he owned, what little of it there was, still lay in its hiding place. Then, looking at it, Nick realised something.

He owned so little, and none of it was really important.

Without really wanting to, Nick's thoughts dwelt on how good it felt to be clean and how wonderful it had been to have someone wash him; caring for him and looking after him. Even having someone else wank him had felt great!

Nick lay on his blanket on the floor of the building and, without fully noticing what he was doing, pulled down his new trousers and underpants and began to masturbate, all the while remembering how fantastic Brian's hand had felt performing this same action.

It seemed crazy, but even the memory of being chained while dressed in the French Maid costume struck Nick as highly erotic. It took Nick a lot less time than usual to bring himself to climax.

Only a minute after coming down from his orgasm, Nick began to cry as he finally discovered that he could no longer deny what should have been obvious to him from the moment he'd found the key and the money in his trousers pocket.

Brian loved him.

It was the only explanation which made sense. Somehow, in his own perverted way, Brian actually loved Nick.

Brian had left that key and the money in the pocket of Nick's trousers for him to find. That was why the last item on the list of chores to do had been the laundry. It had been because Brian expected Nick to find the key and money and, very probably, had also expected him to leave.

Nick hadn't escaped. He'd been allowed to leave. And he'd been paid handsomely for his work. A shower, good meals, a warm bed to sleep in and now, more money than Nick had ever owned in all his life.

And he hadn't been raped, Nick realised. He'd only been masturbated to climax. He'd been given pleasure, not been forced to provide it.

Minutes passed and at last Nick stopped crying and began to think. What should he do? He could follow his original plan and continue living on the streets – become 'Onion' the orphan again, or… Nick could hardly believe he was considering this…

He could go back to Brian.

As that thought came to him, Nick finally realised how desperately lonely he'd been during his time on the streets.

All that time living by himself, never allowing himself to become attached to anyone had taken its toll, unseen and hidden, on Nick's soul. But at long last, he could admit to himself that he needed someone other than himself.

To Nick, it felt like hours had passed, but in reality it was only a few minutes before he pulled his trousers and underpants up again and stood up, looking at the few items he still owned besides the clothes he was wearing.

No, Nick thought, Brian owns these clothes. It was his money which paid for them.

After long moments of thought, Nick came to a decision. He rummaged around in his belongings and extracted the only two things which could possibly be of any importance to him. Putting the items into a pocket, Nick turned his back on his remaining few, unimportant belongings and walked away. There was no temptation for him to look back. He'd made his decision and he could only hope it was the right one.

Fortunately, Nick remembered the number of the bus service he'd taken into the city so it was easy enough to find a bus back to the same suburb.

It was almost dark when Nick finally recognised the street where he'd boarded the bus earlier in the day for his journey to the city and buzzed for the bus to stop so he could get off. As he stepped onto the footpath, he felt a momentary urge to laugh wildly. He had to be crazy! What was he doing back here? Why was he going back to someone who'd humiliated him and chained him up as a prisoner (even though these two things had made his dick go stiff) and made him work hard?

And yet Brian had also fed Nick and allowed him to shower and given him a warm bed to sleep in. Brian was the only person who had shown Nick anything resembling love in more years than Nick cared to remember.

Nick found the house. He could recognise it and Brian's car in the driveway even in the growing darkness. He walked up to the front door which he'd closed only a few hours earlier fully intending never to return, and rang the doorbell.

A minute later, the door opened and Nick looked up into Brian's surprised face. For some reason which Nick could not discern, Brian's eyes appeared to be red-rimmed.

There were a few seconds of uncomfortable silence while Nick tried to think of something to say. Then he said the first thing which came into his head.

"Excuse me, sir, but do you have an opening for a cleaning maid?"

Chapter 3
Good Night

A gentle smile slowly spread across Brian's face as he spoke, quietly.

"I do indeed. It's a live-in position. Full board. All food and amenities provided. Pay is negotiable. Are you interested?"

"Perhaps. Do I have to wear a uniform?" Nick was surprised at how easily he managed to broach the subject without directly referring to it.

"I'd prefer it. A full uniform in fact." – Nick's penis jumped at the words – "But only while you're actually on the job. You won't be wearing it all the time, and I see you already have some clothing suitable for yard work."

Brian stood aside, gesturing invitingly and Nick, in spite of (or perhaps because of) already figuring out what Brian meant by a 'full' uniform, walked inside. The door closed behind him.

Nick followed Brian to the lounge room, then Brian suddenly stopped, his back to Nick. Nick hesitantly sat in an armchair, hoping his 'client' wasn't capricious enough to take offense at such an ordinary action.

Brian's voice was husky.

"I missed you."

Nick simply sat and stared at Brian's back, unsure how to respond. There was a long pause, then Brian turned around and Nick realised, with shock, that the young man was crying! He had probably been crying earlier, hence his red-rimmed eyes.

"I've lived alone for a long time. Somehow, I just never seemed to be interested in marrying. Not anyone. I didn't think it was possible for me to even love someone. Then I saw you."

Nick stared at Brian and wondered where this speech was going.

"I think I must have fallen in love with you the first time I saw you. That's why I kept on going back to that mall instead of shopping locally; so I could see you again. But it was only last night that I finally got up enough courage to ask you to come home with me. And now… I don't know what to do!"

Nick looked confused. What to do? Was Brian, an adult, ignorant of how sex worked? But Nick quickly realised that this was a false assumption as Brian slumped into another armchair and kept on talking, still weeping as he did so.

"I was fooling myself, before. The truth is, if I keep you here, with me in my house, sooner or later someone's bound to notice, then they'll start asking questions and maybe even call the police!"

Nick felt alarmed as he realised that Brian was talking sense.

"I don't want to send you away! I think I love you. But if I keep you here, we could both be in a heap of trouble!"

Nick thought for a minute while Brian just sat, his face lowered and covered with his hands, weeping. Then Nick made a suggestion.

"What if you adopted me?"

Brian looked pityingly at Nick as he replied.

"Me? A single male? Adopt a child? I doubt I'd be allowed. Anyway, I'm sure I'd need some kind of paperwork. Either a letter from your parent or guardian, or a birth certificate, or something, to even get the process started. People would wonder how I got to know you, too."

A birth certificate? Nick reached into his pocket and drew out the two special items he'd taken from the apartment; the items he'd kept with him for the two years he'd been a street kid and which he'd salvaged from his now-abandoned belongings barely an hour previously. He unfolded the piece of paper and held it out to Brian.

"Would this help?"

Brian took the piece of paper and stared at it.

"Your birth certificate?" Brian's tone indicated surprise.

Nick nodded as Brian's eyes scanned the paper. Then…

"Your surname is the same as mine! Weird."

Nick was startled. His surname was less than common in this country. This was a strange development.

Brian looked at the other item Nick still held in his hand.

"What's that?"

Nick held out the cardboard rectangle to Brian.

"It's a photo of my mum. Before she…" a lump caught momentarily in Nick's throat "…died."

Brian took the photo. Glanced at it. Did a double-take then stared at the picture, his eyes widening.

"Oh. My. God!" Pure astonishment.

"What?" Nick felt annoyance. What was wrong? Had Brian been one of his mother's clients? Did he recognise her? Was he about to disparage her in Nick's hearing? He felt a duty to leap to his mother's defense, but there was no need.

"That's my sister!"

For a moment, there was a stunned silence. Nick felt as though his breath had been knocked out of his lungs by that simple statement. Then he recovered enough breath to barely squeak a question.

"Your sister?"

"It's Caroline! My big sister!" Brian touched the photograph with one finger, pointing. "I can see the birthmark on the left side of her neck. That's Carol, for sure! Dad kicked her out of home when she fell pregnant. With you, I guess. I always wondered what happened to her."

Brian's eyes flashed back and forth between the photograph and Nick's face.

"No wonder we look so similar! We're related. Oh my God, you really are my nephew! I really am your uncle!"

For another moment, the two could only stare at each other, then Brian spoke again.

"Do you realise what this means?"

Nick could only shake his head dazedly, still unable to fully process all this new information. He didn't know what it all meant, but it looked like Brian was about to tell him, and the young man looked hopeful. Happy even.

"It means nobody's likely to ever contest my claim on you as your legal guardian. I don't need to adopt you! You belong to me anyway!" Brian calmed down and looked questioningly at Nick. "That is, if you want to?"

There was a short pause while Nick thought. He could barely believe his luck. Brian was his real uncle and Brian wanted him. Really, truly wanted him!

He'd have food whenever he needed it. He'd have a warm bed to sleep in every night. He'd have someone who loved him and who would protect him from any genuine harm. What was wearing a humiliating French Maid outfit or being chained hand and foot, compared to that? And anyway, the erection which had been the result of those last two situations had felt good. Nick didn't take long to make his decision.

Nick answered by holding out his arms to Brian, who immediately came to him and swept Nick up in his arms in a strong embrace. They were both crying.

"Welcome home, nephew. Welcome home at last." This time, it was no joke.

It was a strange kind of home, to be sure, but Nick knew it to be a good one.

And never again would Nicholas have to bear the humiliating nickname of 'Onion'.

The End