This probably won't come as a huge suprise to anyone who's read this far but warning for non-consensual sex in this chapter and general abuse

Farring finished up in a few things in the office, and then made his way out to his car. Greg was lying on the back floor of the car, his tall form uncomfortably hunched over. He was still bare-chested and with his hands fastened in front of him. As per Farring's instructions to the guards he was also gagged. He looked up as Farring opened the door to check on him, fury mixed with fear in his eyes. Farring smiled at him and then shut the door. The guard who'd put Greg in the car was lounging in the front seat, standing orders were that no slave should be left alone while gagged.

Farring tipped the guard handsomely. He often asked the guards for special favours and they were usually happy to oblige for a little extra in their pocket.

The guard departed and Farring slid Greg's crutches into the trunk, noticing that the wheelchair had also been folded up and placed in there. Then he slipped into the driver's seat, smiling happily to himself. He tuned the radio to a nice classical music station and drove off.

He was going to enjoy this.

Cuddy was working late in her office. Farring had taken up half an hour of her time which had been scheduled to more important matters and now she was behind. She frowned to herself, Farring was beginning to become a major annoyance. There had always been rumours about him, and his preference for disabled slaves in his department. She'd raised an eyebrow when he'd hired Doctor Morton but her records were impeccable and there had been no reports of trouble from that quarter so she supposed they had come to an amicable working arrangement.

His obsession with Greg since the amputation was becoming tiresome though. She'd conceded to his request to have the slave working temporarily in his department both to punish Greg for his little indiscretion in the clinic, and to encourage Doctor Wilson to tag the slave. He was nearly as obsessed by Greg as Farring was, but seemed less likely to cause him harm and lessen his working ability.

She didn't really understand the fuss over Greg herself, he was fairly ordinary looking, middle-aged, disabled and generally a miserable son of a bitch to be around. He was highly intelligent sure, but not too smart, letting himself get in a situation where he'd been enslaved for debt. The self destructive streak he'd shown in college had led him to this point in life. She had little time for him except for the prestige he could bring her hospital. He was a slave and it was much easier to see him as that, and that only.

Controlling Greg had proved a headache from the start, the degree of autonomy and authority she'd had to give him to ensure the success of the diagnostic department had led to him stepping over his boundaries as a slave time and time again. The latest fuss with the drug taking and then the outburst in the clinic was causing some of the hospital Board members to doubt the wisdom of keeping him here, now that the diagnostic programme was well established.

Now she'd had to lend him out to Farring for the night, to ensure his support on a more important staffing matter. She'd seen the lust in Farring's eyes and warned him sternly that the slave was to come back in one piece, and in good working condition. He'd agreed readily, stating that he would never destroy any piece of hospital equipment. She suspected his ultimate agenda was to tag Greg as his, though what his wife would say about that she didn't know. She had no intention of allowing him to tag Greg ever. She had a strong feeling that Greg's useful working life would be dramatically shortened if he was tagged by Farring, a suicide attempt wouldn't be out of the question.

There was a polite knock on her door and then Doctor Wilson entered, looking flustered. She smiled to herself, she could always rely on the hospital rumour mill to spread just the right information to the right people.

"Doctor Wilson, what can I help you with?"

"Er.." he rubbed the back of his neck in a gesture that she assumed was meant to be endearing, it just made her wonder if the man had ever had his neck looked at professionally.

"About House, er...Greg...I heard that Doctor Farring has taken him off hospital grounds?"

"Please sit down Doctor Wilson, you seem a little agitated." She couldn't help having some fun with him, he was very transparent. Cute but obvious.

"Yes Doctor Farring asked to borrow Greg for the night, I saw no reason to refuse."

"No reason to refuse! You know what he's like...did you see what he did to Greg yesterday?"

"No, I didn't, but there is a note in Greg's file that he was disciplined twice yesterday for disobeying Doctor Farrings orders, that is quite within hospital policy, as long as no serious damage is done to the slave requiring a stay in the ward. Greg wasn't admitted to the ward so I assume any damage was minor."

"He chained him to a chair, wouldn't let him wear a shirt..." Wilson trailed off, she assumed he realised how silly he was sounding, being outraged over a slave not wearing a shirt.

"Again, not against hospital policy, as long as the slave was adequately fed and watered, and given bathroom breaks. His three fellows were all working with him, I assume one of them would have protested if they thought he wasn't being taken care of properly. Now what was your real concern Doctor Wilson?"

Wilson shifted in his seat, eyes wandering around the room, then finally focusing back on her.

"Are you going to let Farring tag him?"

She smiled, yes he was very predictable.

"I have given you permission to tag him, and have encouraged you to do so. If other members of the hospital staff express an interest I can't hold him open for you forever. Greg needs someone to tag him to settle him down and bring him back under some control. If you aren't interested I will find someone who is, and Farring most certainly is."

"I do want to tag him."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

Wilson looked away, clearly embarrassed. Cuddy waited him out and finally he sighed.

"I wanted him to ask me to do it, I want it to be his choice too."

Cuddy laughed.

"He's a slave Doctor Wilson, you don't have to ask his permission."

"I don't want his permission, I just want him to come to me and ask to be tagged. It will be better like that. I told him I won't tag him unless he comes to me and asks me to."

Cuddy sat back in her chair and considered. Wilson wanted House but he wanted him to willingly submit to him, she suspected that Hell might just freeze over before Greg reached that point. Maybe Farring could persuade him that it was in his best interest to give Wilson what he wanted. Whatever Wilson had in mind for Greg, it was bound to be better than what Farring had planned.

They drove for what seemed like a long time. House had expected Farring to drive to the nearest hotel but he seemed to have somewhere further away in mind. It was uncomfortable on the floor of his car, House was too tall to lie straight so he was curled around. The gag propped his jaws apart and made them ache and his leg was burning. Wilson hadn't come up with any more pain pills during the day, nor had Morton produced any. House knew better than to ask Farring for some, even if he could talk.

Eventually the car slowed down, he heard the sound of a garage door opening and the car being driven inside.

Farring got out of the car without a word and then Greg heard the sound of a door being opened and shut. The lights in the garage went off and then he was alone in the car in the dark. He wondered if Farring just intended to leave him in the car like this overnight, as some sort of bizarre punishment for being right about the patient. He doubted he could be that lucky.

Briefly he thought about the possibility of getting himself into the driver's seat, backing the car out of the garage and driving off. He hadn't driven a car for over fifteen years, hadn't had the freedom to go anywhere without someone taking him there. Even Stacy hadn't been game to let him drive, no slave was permitted to drive. Sitting behind the wheel of a car would be classified as an escape attempt.

He shook his head, even if he could get himself up and into the driver's seat he doubted Farring had left the key in the ignition, the garage door was undoubtedly locked and he had nowhere to go. He thought of Stephen, whose family were risking everything to shelter him. He knew that if he somehow made it to his parents' place his father would march him straight to the nearest police station.

No, escape wasn't an option. He would just have to lie here and wait for Farring to come for him.

House had just dozed off, exhaustion overcoming his fear, when the lights snapped back on and the door opened. The car door was opened and a man reached in and dragged him out by his feet, dumping him on the floor of the garage.

He blinked in the sudden glare of the light and looked up. Farring was standing there, as well as a young man in his early twenties. The young man was wearing a brief pair of shorts and a clean white t-shirt, standard slave clothes, around his neck was a black collar, adorned with studs and d-rings. He was well-muscled, tanned and all the exposed bits of him, except for his head, were completely hairless. He was looking down at House with a closed off non-expression, the one that House saw so often in the mirror.

"Give him one of the crutches Carlos, no need for you to haul him around. Greg won't cause any trouble, will you Greg?"

House stared at Farring, although he couldn't talk he was pretty sure his body language was converying 'fuck off' fairly accurately.

"It will be one stroke of the cane for every look like that Greg, and for every time you're slow to obey an order. If the number of strokes gets beyond twelve then I'll be turning you over to Doctor Cuddy for a whipping when I take you back to the hospital. I suggest you co-operate, the night will go much easier, you might even enjoy yourself."

Carlos had fetched one of the crutches from the trunk of the car and he held out to House, who took it and levered himself up to his feet. As Carlos came closer he could see the tag hanging from his collar - 'Lois Farring'. He was tagged to Farring's wife.

Farring had a leash in his hand and he reached up and clipped it onto House's collar, then gave a small tug.

"Come along Greg, there's a good boy.."

House made his way awkwardly into the house, he'd begun to manage quite well with two elbow crutches but using just one slowed his progress considerably.

As he hobbled inside he was aware of his stump jutting out of his cut-off jeans. It had only been a few weeks since the amputation and he still had a shock every time he looked down and saw that. Saw what wasn't there. His leg had been a source of constant pain for him since the infarction but he hated that it was gone. Hated this thing that was left, this useless appendage that would never be any good for anything but bumping against things and being the object of lust from people such as Farring. Although the agonising pain he had experienced every day in his thigh was gone there was still a burning, tingling sensation now in the stump. So called 'phantom pain' that was every bit as real as the pain he'd had before.

Just getting around now was an effort that exhausted him, his hands were always occupied with two crutches, leaving none free to carry a file while he walked, or turn a door knob. Everything took effort and planning. The last couple of days had been completely draining, he was running on very little sleep, little food, no pain pills and two vicious punishment sessions. He had just about no reserves left for whatever was about to happen.

He followed Farring reluctantly down a small hallway and then down some steps to a lower level. Farring pushed open a door and tugged him over the threshold into a large room.

The room was dimly lit and it took his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the lower level of lighting. He was led to a point in the centre of the room, then his crutch was taken away and he was pushed to the floor. Farring took the end of the leash and clipped it a ringbolt in the floor and he was effectively tethered by the neck to the floor. Carlos pulled on his shoulders until he was in an awkward kneeling position, weight over to his left side and hands on the floor for balance. House couldn't help but think that rather than the elegant kneeling position he had been taught when he became a slave - hands behind the back, back straight and eyes down, he must look rather like a pet dog crouching there on a leash.

When his eyes had adjusted to the light he looked up and saw that he was tethered in front of a couple of comfortable couches, with a small coffee table between them. On the table was a tray with some wine,goblets and some snack food. Lounging on one of the couches was a woman. House presumed it was Lois, Farring's wife.

Farring put one hand on House's shoulder and ran his other through House's short hair.

"This is Greg dear."

House stiffened at the touch of Farring's hand and tried to pull away but the man held him in place, hands roaming over him, raking through his hair, petting his shoulders and then coming round to tease at his nipples. He squirmed but Farring swiftly slapped him on his still bare back.

"Stay still, Greg or I'll add another cane stroke to the one you've already earned. As you can see I have the equipment here to deal with your punishment quite well."

House looked around at the room, this time taking in the equipment on the walls. Everywhere he looked there was some form of disciplinary equipment, whips,crops, paddles, canes. There was a small whipping post, with shackles hanging down from it. There were coils of rope on hooks on one wall, as well as some gags and blindfolds.

There was a bed on one side of the room, a large one with restraints placed at each of the four posts.

Farring again let his hands wander over House's skin, lingering on his bare back which House knew was bruised and welted from the flogging. He arched away as Farring dug his fingers in but he was held firmly in place.

"Greg recently lost a leg, didn't you Greg? He likes to hide his stump away but I think we can do without the wrapping for tonight."

Farring came around and took off the stocking and then the wrapping around House's stump, revealing the still healing flesh. House turned his head away, he didn't like to look at it.

Farring had no such restraint. He ran his hands over it longingly.

"Is this a private party dear, would you like me to leave you alone with the slave?"

Lois was apparently getting bored, lounging on her couch. House looked up to see her staring at him, assessing him.

"I'm sorry dear, I only have him for a limited time and I want to enjoy him. But I need to talk to you about something. I want to ask Doctor Cuddy if I can tag him."

House jerked under Farring's hand, he didn't want Farring to tag him, he didn't want anyone to tag him, never again. Not after what he'd had with Stacy. Farring tightened his grip slightly, holding him in place.

Lois took a deep sip of her drink and looked House over.

"Let me see him then. I'm not impressed so far, as I've always said you have poor taste in slaves."

"Jeans off, Greg."

House stayed where he was, crouched over. He knew that it would be futile to keep resisting but it just wasn't in him to make it easy for Farring. He didn't give a damn about strokes with the cane, or being reported to Cuddy.

Farring sighed.

"That's another stroke Greg. Carlos, please come and help this slave out of his jeans."

Carlos got up from where he'd been kneeling by Lois's side. With Farring holding him House couldn't resist for long, Carlos had his jeans unzipped and off in short order, at a nod from Farring he stripped House of his slave issue undershorts.

Farring smiled broadly.

"Come and have a closer look dear."

Chase, Cameron and Foreman were out on the town. It was Foreman's birthday and the other two had persuaded him to have a drink with them. The three weren't especially close but neither were any of them friendly with the other staff of the hospital. Generally they were looked down on, or pitied, for having to take orders from a slave. So they did the occasional night out together.

Cameron tried to enjoy herself but she couldn't help thinking about Doctor House. She'd last seen him this morning, the case was solved and the patient recovering. She and the other fellows had gone to the conference room to collect their things. House was still sitting there, chained to a chair, stripped to the waist and with the weals from the previous days flogging bright on his back.

As they had been leaving the hospital this afternoon they'd seen him being bundled into a car by security, he was bound and gagged. None of them had any doubts about whose car it was.

She tried to drink and laugh and forget what they had seen but she couldn't. When the other two asked her what she was so glum about she told them. They didn't say much but the night broke up early and they all went home alone.

Lois smiled appreciatively and got up for a closer view.

"Well, he is a bit old, and crippled, but there is potential there." She reached out a hand and grabbed House's penis. Her touch was rough and he tried to squirm away, only to be held in place by Carlos. She began to stroke him, and against his will his cock began to stiffen. He tried to struggle again, hoping for a blow, anything to distract him from what was happening to him.

"He's responsive enough anyway, but he seems a bit wild." She let go of his cock and reached up to pull at a nipple. "A shame these aren't pierced, then we could pretty him up a bit."

"I will ask Doctor Cuddy if I can have him pierced, once he's tagged. A chain through his nipples and through his cock might held to quieten him down. I'm sure she won't mind. The hospital aren't worried about the cosmetic appearance of the slaves."

"No, I can see that, looking at his back." She was standing behind him now, her hands travelling over his back. "Did you do these Nathan?"

"Yes. Greg is a very disobedient slave, he needs a firm hand. Doctor Cuddy lets him get away with too much."

"So many scars...such a bad slave...I don't know if I want to have such a bad slave here Nathan. We'll have to keep him gagged all the time, keep him shackled. It won't be like it is with Carlos." She reached out to Carlos who was still holding House, running her hand through his hair.

"We'll train him dear, he can learn. Once I have him in my department at work, and tagged for home we can work with him. I can discipline him whenever I want then."

House felt his body tensing in fear. He didn't think Cuddy would let Farring tag him, but she'd sent him home with him tonight, and put him to work in Farring's department. He looked around the room again, it was obvious what went on here. He doubted that Morton had ever been brought to Farring's home, or that Lois Farring even knew of her existence, but apparently his wife had no objection to her husband making use of a slave. Why not? It wasn't like they were human beings after all.

House bit down on the gag, frustrated at not being able to talk, even though what he wanted to say would earn him the rest of those cane strokes.

"Well, you've let me have Carlos so I guess it would be okay if you tag him. I know how much you like them with bits missing.I don't want him here every night though. Now put him away for now and then come and get some dinner."

She left, with one parting caress of House's cock, he mouthed obscenities at her through the gag but they merely came out as muffled grunts.

"Carlos." Farring said, gesturing to House. Carlos bent down and unclipped the leash and then bodily hauled House to his feet and over to the bed. Farring held the leash all the way and House found that his passive resistance was useless.

He was dumped on the bed, face down and then his arms raised above his head and restrained to the top corners of the bed, tightly, so that he was stretched out. His left leg was pulled out to one side and shackled to the corner of the bed.

Farring went over to the wall and picked up a cane that had been displayed there. He came back to the bed and stood over House, running his hand up and down the stump. House's skin crawled at the constant touching of his leg.

Farring lightly tapped the cane against the flesh just above where the leg ended.

"It's a shame this is still healing Greg. If I gave you the cane strokes here..." he tapped again, a little harder and House groaned behind the gag and tried to jerk the stump away."I think that would be very effective, don't you?"

Before House could draw breath Farring brought down the cane with force on what remained of his right thigh, above the healing flesh but across the most sensitive part of the leg. Pain sliced into House, and he let out a scream which was effectively muffled by the gag. He jerked at his bonds but he was held tight and all he achieved was straining himself.

"Just the one there for now, don't want you running to Doctor Cuddy and complaining do we?"

Farring ran the tip of the cane up and down the stump again and then stepped back.

"Your back is a mess Greg, I think we had better give you the rest of these on your ass."

House welcomed the pain of the blows to his ass, each stroke burned fire across it but it distracted him from the pain in his leg, and the thoughts in his head of being tagged by Farring. He turned his head to the right and saw Carlos. He was kneeling by the side of the bed, hands behind his back, head down.

"Lois and I will be back later this evening Greg, we have a long evening ahead of us. Come Carlos."

He clicked his fingers and the slave rose gracefully and allowed himself to be leashed and led out of the room.

House closed his eyes in pain and despair, imagining this future.

Wilson was alone in his hotel room that evening. After his embarrassing confession to Doctor Cuddy about how he was waiting for a slave to ask to be tagged he had come straight back here. He thought about Greg, no doubt already in some dingy hotel room alone with Farring.

Anger and jealousy filled him as he thought about what Farring could be doing. How he would be using Greg, fawning over his stump, watching him walk. Pushing him down and fucking him. He'd probably flog him again, although he had to be careful not to do anything crippling to Greg.

It wasn't right. Greg was his. He didn't want another man using him. He fingered the tag he kept in his pocket. Imagined himself clipping the tag onto Greg's collar and claiming him for himself. Every time he saw the tag he would know who Greg belonged to, Greg would know who he belonged to.

He'd have exclusive access, no-one else would be able to use Greg without his permission and he'd never give that.

He held the tag in his hand and stared at the engraving he'd had put on it.

"Property of James Wilson.".

He jerked off that night while staring at the tag. He had to make this happen.

House was restrained on his back, arms and leg still spread, ass raised by some pillows shoved underneath it. Farring pumped into him, thrusting and groaning, one hand gently rested on House's stump, rubbing it in time with his strokes. At the last moment he pulled out and to House's dismay he rubbed his cock against the stump, giving it that last bit of needed stimulation. When Farring came it was all over the stump.

The stimulation of Farring's cock against his prostate had caused House to harden, as it always did. Lois came over and ignored her husband's panting form. She ran her hand over House's cock. Then with a smile she called Carlos forward and ordered him to finish House off with a blow job. The slave wrapped his mouth around House's cock and although House resisted he finally came in Carlos's mouth. When he looked up he saw both Lois and Farring watched him with lust in their eyes. He thought he heard Carlos whisper 'I'm sorry' to him as he moved away but he couldn't be sure.

Doctor Morton spent a lonely night in a quiet house. She knew that Farring had taken House home from the hospital, to spend the night with him. She thought about the hotel room Farring took her to, and the display she had to put on for him, showing her 'residual limb' to him, letting him paw all over it.

She thought of House, risking everything to go and diagnose his patient. House was three times the doctor Farring was, and yet he was nothing but an object to be used because he was a slave.

She thought about resigning, going somewhere where she wouldn't have to have any 'special nights' with her boss.

She thought about resigning but didn't. She couldn't leave this job, she was only a week ahead of the debt collectors and a collar around her neck.

When they were finished with him for the night he was unshackled from the bed and thrust down on the floor on his hands and one knee. Farring leashed him and led him like a dog to a cage in the corner. His gag was removed and he was left a bottle of water and a small bowl of slave pellets to eat. He was still naked and there were no coverings in the cage, nothing on the floor.

"You were good tonight Greg, I enjoyed it. I look forward to many nights like this if Doctor Cuddy approves of my tagging you. Come on Carlos, Greg will be fine here for the night."

They both left and House curled him self up in his cage, ignoring the food and drink. His body was aching, from the cane strokes, from the bonds, from where Farring had thrust into him with no regard for his comfort. In his years as a slave he had managed the art of disassociating himself from his body, pretending that what was happening to it had nothing to do with him. Tonight he couldn't, tonight he felt every inch a slave who'd been used as one might use a sex toy.

He had been years without anyone offering him comfort, a friendly touch. Tonight he just wanted someone to hold him, to tell him it would be all right. He remembered the nights he had spent outside when he was a child and John House had banished him from their home. He'd curled in on himself then and cried for his mother to come and rescue him. She never did.

He knew nobody would come now.

He spent the night curled up on the floor of a wire cage. His collar had never felt as heavy as it did that night.

Doctor Cuddy had a quiet evening at home alone. She cooked herself a nice dinner, listening to music on her expensive stereo system. After dinner she relaxed with a glass of wine and a good book. Curled up comfortably on her luxurious bed she didn't think about Greg at all.

Farring let him sit on the back seat on the way back to the hospital. His hands were cuffed in front of him, his leash clipped to a ring behind him. When they arrived at the hospital Farring took off the cuffs,unclipped the leash and then stood waiting while House struggled out of the car and balanced himself on his crutches. Then he took the leash in his hand and set off towards the door, House following behind.

As they neared the door House saw his former patient, Stephen and two other people who he assumed were the parents, making their slow way out the door. Stephen still looked very ill but he was moving under his own power with support from his dad. House guessed that he'd probably signed himself out against his doctor's advice, it was not wise for an escaped slave to stay in one place longer than absolutely necessary.

As they passed Stephen looked across and saw House, being walked into the hospital on a leash. Their eyes met for a second and then they looked away. There was nothing they could say.

Doctor Cuddy was standing at the clinic desk when she saw House and Farring enter the hospital. She took in their appearance, Farring seemed his normal smooth self, impeccably dressed and wearing his oily smile. Greg was dressed in a pair of ill fitting scrubs and looked like he hadn't slept, or been groomed, in a week. Trailing along at the end of a leash he looked like something Farring might have found in the parking lot.

"Doctor Farring!"

"Yes, Doctor Cuddy?"

"I need a word with Greg in my office."

"Very well." He handed over the leash which she took loosely in her hand. "Later I would like to request a meeting with you to discuss Greg's future here."

"Certainly, this afternoon would be a good time, my assistant will ring you and confirm."

"Thank you Doctor Cuddy. Greg, I will see you when Doctor Cuddy has finished with you."

Cuddy watched him walk off, then turned to Greg, noticing how his head was hanging low, and his shoulders were slumped. She unclipped the leash, she didn't need to parade a slave on a leash to show that she owned him.

"In my office Greg."

Greg came to stand in front of the desk, she decided not to insist on his kneeling.

"First, do you need any attention in the recovery ward"

She knew that he would say no. No slave would go there unless they had no choice, they were always totally immobilised, catheterised and stripped naked. It prevented any malingering amongst the slaves.

He shook his head.

"Good. Now I want you to know that there are three proposals on my desk regarding you. The Board wants me to investigate selling you, they are concerned you're becoming more of a liability than an asset to the hospital."

"One legged slave, that will be an easy sale." Greg muttered.

"Actually it would be, you know as well as I do that there's a market for amputee slaves. Of course you most likely wouldn't be working as a doctor anymore. When we first bought you the next highest bidder was a slave porn company."

Greg shut his mouth and looked away, she could see him swallowing hard. When she'd bought him for the hospital he'd been pathetically grateful that he would still be working in medicine. It was time that he remembered just how lucky he'd been - no other hospital had shown an interest in him.

"The second proposal is that the Diagnostics Department be placed under the control of another department head - Internal Medicine is the one proposed - and that your autonomy over the department be removed, most of the Board think it's bad for morale in the hospital to have a slave nominally in charge of a department."

"You promised...when I came here, you said that I would run Diagnostics..."

"When I bought you, I set up Diagnostics a certain way, I believed that it would function better if you had at least some authority over it. It is, of course, within my prerogative to change that at any time if I believe it will benefit the hospital. I certainly do not have to consult with the property of the Department to do that."

"Doctor Farring is in charge of Internal Medicine, I would be working for him." Greg said bleakly.

"Yes, which would fit in nicely with the third proposal, which is a request from Doctor Farring to be permitted to tag you, so that he would have exclusive sexual rights to you, and would be permitted to take you off the hospital grounds regularly, your workload permitting."

Greg was trembling now, she could see it. She knew he'd been under strain ever since she'd sent him to work for Farring, been physically punished twice, had little rest and to top it off had what had probably been a very unpleasant night with Farring. She'd seen this trembling reaction before, when he'd been faced with a whipping. He always seemed to regret his actions when it was too late to stop the consequences.

"I...I don't want him to tag me..." Greg said in a very small voice, staring at the floor. "Please...don't let him..."

To her surprise he sank to the floor, kneeling on one leg, hands resting in front of him, head bowed.

"Please don't..."

"Greg, head up."

He lifted his head and looked at her, expression wide open for once, he looked shattered, broken.

She looked down at him, the distraught slave kneeling on her office carpet. She felt no pleasure, just satisfaction that her plan was working.

"You will go and get yourself cleaned up, have a shower and then go and visit the groomer. Then draw some clean clothes from the laundry." He looked like he hadn't been shaved or showered in days and his hair was growing wildly. "When you look more presentable I suggest you go and see Doctor Wilson. If you are tagged by Doctor Wilson I will have to reconsider these proposals in the light of new developments. Do you understand me Greg?"

He swallowed and then nodded.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Very well, I will be arranging a meeting with Doctor Farring this afternoon. If Doctor Wilson has anything to tell me that will affect the outcome of that meeting he should contact me before then."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"You may go."

She didn't offer him a hand up, he struggled up using one crutch. With his head down he made his way slowly out of her office.

As he left she smiled, she didn't think she would need to meet with Farring that afternoon.

House was standing under the spray in the slave showers when he heard them approaching. Three security guards, grins on their faces and a small specimen bottle in hand. Random drug testing. His eyes closed, he'd been enjoying a few minutes of peace in the shower, trying to let the water wash away the events of the last couple of days. He didn't want to do this now, not ever really, but not now, not after...last night.

When they turned off the spray they thrust the bottle in his hands and watched as he provided a specimen, there and then, naked and shivering in the cool air.

Once business was concluded they looked at their watches and announced that they were now off duty. He was pushed to the hard tile floor and the first man opened his trousers.

"Open wide Greg."

When they had all been satisfied they left him there, huddled on the bathroom floor. Crutches on the other side of the room.

It took a long time to crawl over to the crutches and then over to the basins.

What little he'd had to eat in the last day came out of him as he stood hunched over the sink.

After he was finished he straightened up, washed off his face and rinsed his mouth out. Then he went back under the shower spray, wishing that the water would be hot just this once to burn away his pain.

Wilson had been keeping an eye out for Greg all morning. He wasn't sure if the slave was going back to Farring's department or returning to diagnostics. The three fellows weren't in yet, as usual after a case they were having the morning off to make up for the extra hours they had would be no time off for Greg though.

He saw him on the balcony. One of the few freedoms Greg was allowed in the hospital, a small piece of outside where he could stand and watch the people below and imagine what it would be like to be free. He often saw Greg just standing there, staring.

Wilson got up and went out to the balcony. Greg turned to face him. The slave looked a lot better today. He was cleaned up, hair neatly trimmed, face free of scruff, wearing a clean, if well worn, pair of jeans and t-shirt. All his wounds were concealed.

Greg grinned at him, showing all his teeth but there was no humour in his eyes.

"Greg, are you okay? Did Farring..."

He didn't know what to ask. Did Farring abuse you? Wilson knew he had, except it wasn't considered abuse because Greg was a slave. Property damage at the most.

"You win."

He blinked, and waved his hand around.

"Sorry Greg, I'm not sure what you mean."

"I want you to tag me."

Wilson couldn't help the smile that spread over his face.

"You want me to tag you? What brought this on?"

"Does it matter?" Greg asked in a weary voice, the voice of a man nearing his tolerance level. "Just do it, do it now. I want you to do it now."

Wilson fingered the shiny tag where it sat in his pocket, he'd been keeping it there for weeks, ready for this moment. This wasn't quite right though. He didn't want this rushed, he wanted to remember this moment for a long time.

"You need to kneel, I need you to kneel."

Greg just looked at him with that closed off expression and then nodded, handing off one crutch to Wilson, he used the other to help him get down then laid it down next to him. Hands on the ground for balance he ducked his head.

Wilson bent down and lifted his chin. The tag was in his hands, his name in bright letters on the silver metal. His hands were shaking slightly as he reached out and clipped it to the front d-ring on Greg's collar.

"You're in my care now Greg, my care and my control. You're my responsibility. No-one besides me can use you. You're safe now."

The tag hung down, resting on Greg's collarbone. Wilson could see his own name there. He put his arms around Greg and pulled him to his feet, handing him back his crutches. He could feel Greg trembling slightly.

"This will be good for you Greg. I'm going to care for you, and protect you. You just have to listen to what I say now and let me help you. Now come inside and I'll get you some pain medicine and find you something to eat and drink, you look like you're about to collapse."

"Yes, Master."

"You don't have to call me..." Wilson started and then broke off, there was a tiny smile on Greg's face, a glint in his eyes. Greg was mocking him. He clamped down on his anger. First he had to win Greg's trust, then he could work on discipline issues. There would be plenty of time.

He turned to go inside. At the door he paused, Greg was staring over the balcony, an intent expression on his face. As he watched, the slave shook himself and turned away from the outside world to follow Wilson inside.

The End

That's the end of this story though I'm thinking I might do a sequel to it at some stage. Thanks everyone who's been reading and those reviewing, your support is appreciated. Special thanks to Oflymonddreams and Illumim for their helpful plot suggestions when I got stuck :)

I'm sure most people reading this have already read it but if you haven't, make sure you read Collar!Redux seasons 1 and 2 where Oflymonddreams started off this AU universe where House is a slave and Wilson is very interested in him :)