The Mailboy's Unexpected Submissive

His Past

- Jules' Pov -

I didn't like seeing Ripley so upset if that word could even be used to describe the look he bore. He looked...I couldn't even begin to describe it, but I didn't like it. Not one bit.

There was no trace of the slight smile he showed me that was getting bigger with every day that passed us by. Gone was his trademark smirk.

Instead, it was replaced by a look of vulnerability if I had to put a name to it. A haunted look in his eyes.

No. It was anguish.

Whatever was going through his mind, and whatever he was going to share with me, I knew it was going to be bad. I just didn't know the extent of the bad.

"I guess there's no better place to start than the very beginning," he sighed, his back ramrod straight as he ran his fingers through his hair.

"Sir, I don't need to know if it-"

"No, you do. So you can decide whether or not you'd like to remain with me or not," he interrupted making me frown.

No matter how bad it was, I wasn't going to leave him. I swear to remain by his side no matter the cost.

Wow, that sounded scarily similar to wedding vows, I thought. But I was unable to dwell on it any longer when I noticed Ripley was opening his mouth to speak.

"My birth parents were the two you just saw standing on my doorstep. I wish I could at least say that they weren't always like that, but they were. Though it seems like they've only got worse since I last saw them about ten years ago, but I'll go further into that a little later," he said, stopping to take in a slow breath, hands clenching into tight fists. I didn't hesitate to place my hands on top of his, calming him slowly. "Before my first birthday, they treated me decently enough. They fed me enough to survive and gave me the absolute bare minimum of necessities to go along with it, but from what I can slightly recall and as I've been told by my grandparents, they never spent time with me or were really near me for longer than necessary. I spent most of my time by myself with no one around me. After my first birthday, that's when shit really started going to hell. They were and still are big-time drug, alcohol, and probably some other kind of addict that I don't even want to think about. Their drug and drink of choice have always been cocaine and gin, occasionally throwing in some heroin if they weren't reaching the true high they wanted to achieve. But they never did them separately, it was always together.

"Like any addict, they would go to crazy lengths to get their next fix. So, for the first eight or so years of my life, they rented me out." I was mortified by his words, but he was quick to continue upon seeing the look on my face. "Not in the way you're thinking. I was still too young to do the big money items. No, they rented me out to crazy rich couples that weren't opposed to giving large sums of money to two addicts. When I was still considered a baby, I would be taken to photoshoots and cared for like I truly was these couples' children to either make them look good or to sub in for their real children who they didn't want others to see and be identified as theirs. I don't and never did know why, nor did I care. After I grew too old to still be considered a baby, I was then turned into a slave of sorts, cleaning up these couples' homes because as everyone knows, child labor is significantly cheaper than adult labor. So I would have to clean these massive mansions and homes, only getting paid like seventy-five cents to a dollar per room I cleaned by the end of my time. And because I was still a kid, I didn't earn much so I worked a hell of a lot, on top of attending school which also cut back on my time spent cleaning. That's the funniest thing: they sent me to school so the cops or CPS wouldn't come looking for me, taking away their fix income. Working was a welcomed reprieve from the rat, roach, and shit-infested hole-in-the-wall apartment I was really from, so I just went along with it. And like I said before, this went on until I was either eight or nine years old. After that, I did sketchy jobs at sketchy places for even sketchier people.