Kyle had just turned eighteen when he fled his home. Once he hitched a ride on the back of a handsome stranger’s motorcycle, Kyle never looked back.
Right now, though, part of him wished he could go back in time and do things differently. That handsome stranger was Markus Blackthorne, and Kyle has been living as his captive for six years. When Kyle ran away from his abusive parents and into Markus’s arms, he’d jumped out of the frying-pan and into the fire.
Kyle was raised in a household that served only his parents’ version of God. His parents were devout Pentecostals, and they told him the beatings and isolation were to save his soul. Omegas were an abomination in their eyes. Men were to marry women. Kyle’s parents believed that if Omegas prayed hard enough, they could impregnate beta women. If they couldn’t, it was a sign they were wallowing in sin.
Once, in the fifth grade, Kyle tried to stand up for himself. He told his teacher about his parents’ discipline methods, but Child Protective Services refused to intervene. After that, Kyle was homeschooled.
The night he fled, Kyle saw Markus ride up on his big, black motorcycle as he waited for a bus out of town. It was around one o’clock in the morning, and the midnight bus was an hour late. Kyle had snuck out of the house and was terrified someone would discover he was missing before the bus came.
He’d made the decision to run away when he was fifteen, but since Kyle was homeschooled and wasn’t allowed to have a job, it took him three years to scrape together the money for a bus ticket. Whenever he could pick up pennies or other change from the ground, Kyle would. There weren’t many opportunities. He only went to church, the grocery store with his mother, and on the occasional church field trips.
His parents hated letting him go on the trips because they felt the other kids in the church were too corrupt. The pastor, Martin Smith, talked them into some of the shorter, bible-focused travel. Much of it was community service, including picking up trash. That’s when he’d find plenty of change and get excited about his escape.
So here Kyle was with a bus ticket to the city, alone in the dark, and waiting. Just when he started to feel like it was hopeless, a motorcycle came roaring out of the night.
He pulled up to the curb and surveyed Kyle’s young, nubile body from head to toe. He regularly wore an ugly brown shirt and camel corduroys. It was a uniform his parents dictated to keep his focus off his appearance and on the lord. But now he was dressed in a tight black t-shirt and a pair of jeans he’d stolen from the church donation boxes.
His deep auburn hair was mussed. Kyle hadn’t known what size clothes to grab since he’d been making his own clothes from the time he was eight years old. The jeans fit okay, they were a bit snug at the hips and across his cock, but the t-shirt was about three sizes too small and showed off his pecs and tight abs. He wasn’t huge, but Kyle had developed cut muscles from having to do a great deal of manual labor around his parents’ homestead.
“Need a ride somewhere, young man?” Markus asked him without getting off his bike.
“I’m waiting for the bus, sir,” Kyle replied, the terror in his voice evident.
“Mmmm. Sir. I like that.” He licked his lips and continued staring at the outline of Kyle’s cock like a hungry man who hadn’t eaten in years.
“I should just wait. I’m sure it will be along any time now,” Kyle replied.
“A young Omega shouldn’t be out here alone. The night is full of predators waiting to take advantage of someone just like you. Come with me; I’ll protect you,” he said, sounding completely sincere, but Markus knew he was the predator Kyle should fear.
Then Kyle made a huge mistake. He got on the back of Markus’s bike, wrapped his arms around his waist, and disappeared into the night.