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Raping a Slave

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If you put a chain around the neck of a slave, the other end fastens itself around your own. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Whenever I hear anyone arguing for slavery, I feel a strong impulse to see it tried on him personally. ~ Abraham Lincoln

From ancient times, acts that would be considered crimes against persons have been legally committed against slaves. Slaves are, by definition, property and not people; thus, the treatment of a slave is at the discretion of the property owner. Thus, while a rape or murder committed by a slave is a crime punishable by death, the same act with a slave as the object is, essentially, a victimless crime--except, perhaps, for the loss suffered by the slave's owner due to any subsequent incapacity of the slave.



Raping a Slave



Riki had done it impulsively, offered his body to the Blondie as payment for interrupting the street fight that would have killed him--five against one, completely unfair. He remained preoccupied with the cowardice of his attackers all during the walk to the hotel, and it didn't occur to him until much later to wonder why one of the Elite was walking the streets of Midas. Nor did it strike him as odd that the Blondie would agree to the exchange, follow him to the sleazy hotel, or kiss him up against the wall with such hunger.

He had grown up hearing the rumors about them, of course, and wondered if they were true, if the Elite really didn't fuck despite being physically able. They were supposed to be amazingly clever and smart, but this one had followed him through narrow, dark alleyways, as trusting as a halfwit. Riki had never been this close to one of them before. They rarely descended to the streets of Midas and certainly not to the slum, Ceres. As an unregistered human, Riki wasn't even a citizen of the City of Tanagura, and the likelihood that he would ever so much as meet a Blondie was nearly zero. Replaying the fight in his head--pleased with his own ability to hold off five attackers for so long--he almost forgot he was being followed. He half-expected that when he turned around the Blondie would be gone. But when he darted a glance backward, the creature was still there.

They drew attention as they made their way through the seedy corridor of bars and by-the-hour hotels. Riki wasn't a small man, but the Blondie was huge, head and shoulders above Riki. His fine-boned face, long, delicate hands and fair coloring belied his size and strength. Although his startling appearance, and the simple fact of his presence in this dim corner of Midas, drew shocked stares, he seemed unaware of--or perhaps just unconcerned with--the gaping stares and pointing fingers.

Once they were in the room, Riki was prepared to do whatever was asked of him; it was only fair, considering the man had saved his life. However, despite an air of having seen it all, the Blondie merely wanted to touch Riki's naked body, removing a glove to stroke Riki's cock. When Riki asked if he was going to remove his clothes, the man scoffed, "No idiot in Tanagura would take off his clothes to discipline a pet."

Riki closed his eyes and let the sensations eradicate his surroundings. He climaxed and slumped against the wall, pinned by the gloved hand holding his wrists. The Blondie bent and kissed the side of his neck. The man's long, pale hair was clean and fragrant, and his mouth found the sensitive spots along Riki's throat. He took his time, tasting Riki's skin, a wet line from the angle of his jaw to his collarbone.

Riki had never been kissed by a trick before.

Eyes still tightly shut, Riki asked, "Who are you?"

In a disinterested tone, the man said, "Iason Mink. Just a Blondie." He let go of Riki's hands and stepped away.

When Riki opened his eyes, Iason was sucking his bare fingers clean and watching Riki solemnly.

"What?" Riki demanded, bending to pick up his clothes, then stepping into his crumpled jeans.

"You're very beautiful." Iason pulled his glove back on. "Something special."

"I'm no one," Riki snapped. "A mongrel."

"I didn't say someone," Iason corrected. "I said, something." He straightened his robes, brushing at them with the back of his hand. "When you're dressed, I'm taking you back to my home in Eos."

Riki snorted. "Yeah, right. Look, we're even now, okay?" He tucked his t-shirt into his jeans and turned toward the door.

"You're coming with me," Iason repeated. "I'm telling you, not asking."

"Fuck off." Riki took a step toward the door but the large, strong hand on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks.

"I will take you," Iason said in a low voice. "I have that right, to do as I wish. Remember, mongrel, you have no rights at all." His serious eyes matched his tone. Riki shivered as Iason continued. "Our meeting was not accidental. I know who your friends are, Riki. I can find them, just as I found you. It will be better if you come with me."

Clenching his jaw, Riki thought of Guy and the other members of the Bison gang. He owed his friends loyalty. Whatever Iason wanted, Riki would give it to him; the others needn't be involved. "Fine," he said. "Asshole." Iason just smiled, seeming oddly satisfied.

All the way to the car, Iason kept a claiming hand on Riki's shoulder. In the rear of the limousine, Riki slumped in the far corner of the back seat and did his best to ignore the infuriatingly serene presence beside him. For his part, Iason seemed to have forgotten all about his passenger, which made Riki's pouting seem childish and excessive.

Riki cleared his throat, his arms crossed over his chest. "You can't keep me."

Iason didn't even look up from his newsreader. "Yes, I can. I can quote law if you'd like. Jupiter is very generous with her favorites."

"Fuck Jupiter," Riki snarled. "And fuck you."

Iason looked up, wearing that peculiar smile again. "You're an amazing creature. I'd be hard pressed to find a Blondie who'd dare speak to me like that, much less a slum rat."

Shrugging, Riki feigned indifference. He wouldn't let Iason know he was afraid. Trying to calm his racing heart, he considered the possibilities for escape. Despite his relative success in the street fight, he knew he'd be unable to fight Iason and win. He tested the handle, but the car door was locked. Breathing shakily, Riki leaned his forehead against the cool of the deeply tinted window glass. On the positive side, there were likely to be many small, portable valuables in a Blondie's house. So long as Iason didn't kill him outright, he would find some way to make this unexpected trip pay off.



Iason's house was, unsurprisingly, palatial and well-appointed. Located at the highest point of the elite neighborhood, Eos, the view from the terrace took in the entire city of Tanagura, the wasteland beyond, and even the planet's gentle curve.

"Have you been up here before?" Iason asked politely. He handed Riki a glass of liquor, something dark with an aroma of flowers.

"No," Riki sneered. "How the hell would I ever have been in a place like this?" He threw the drink back in one gulp.

Iason shrugged, remarking dryly, "Perhaps you charmed one of my neighbors with your wit and personality."

Riki shot him a disdainful glare. "Yeah, right." He set the glass down on the wide terrace rail with a solid, glassy sound. With more swagger than he felt, he announced, "I have to go back. You can't keep me here."

Leaning against the wall and looking profoundly bored, Iason reminded him, "As we've already discussed, Riki, I can keep you here, and I intend to do so."

Riki strode past Iason. "Fuck you, Blondie. I'm leaving."

"You won't be allowed to leave," Iason called at his retreating back. "Besides, Riki, your drink was drugged. If you were at all clever, you'd have realized I'd do that. You won't get far."

Iason was right, of course, and he didn't even bother to chase after Riki himself. Instead, Riki was stopped in the hallway by a uniformed guard and a young man dressed entirely in black but for a heavy steel ID bracelet. "So, you're the new pet," he said. "I'm Daryl. You'll be seeing a lot of me from now on."

"Get out of my way." Riki shoved him, but Daryl merely smirked and rubbed at his shoulder where Riki had pushed him.

He made it a few dizzy steps before collapsing.



His dreams were layered with pleasure, something complicated and dependent on counter-tension, his whole body dragged through silk. He woke blearily to fingers moving slickly in his ass, deep, smooth strokes that made him gasp with his first conscious breath. Daryl's voice said, "He's awake," and a stranger, young and male, asked, "Should I fuck him now?"

Riki's slow, swimming struggles didn't set him free; instead, they impaled him on strong, invading fingers. He knelt on spread knees, hands tied out in front of him; there was a pillow under his hips, and his cock pushed against its frustrating softness as he whined for more. He tried to turn his head, but Daryl's gloved fist was tight in his hair. He could see Daryl's pale, pretty face lit by candlelight, hazy and a little out of focus. Daryl smiled and touched Riki's cheek with his free hand. "Yes," Daryl said. "I think he'll like that."

The fingers were withdrawn, and Riki moaned to have them back, followed by a flush of shame. Naked, muscular legs eased between his thighs and hands parted the cheeks of his ass. Riki should have tried to get away, but his blood had been exchanged for honey, everything sweet and sticky. His weighted tongue trailed so far behind his brain that he could make nothing but soft animal whimpers. His ears buzzed with the rush of his pulse.

Daryl said, "He's very appealing, isn't he?" as if evaluating an object. "I can see why Iason is interested in him."

"He's dark. No one keeps pets this common."

"Exotic," Daryl corrected. "Master Iason likes the contrast."

"What's going to happen to him?"

"He'll live with the rest of you, of course. Otherwise, it's none of your concern."

There was the slick, rapid slap of flesh on flesh, followed by a well-lubed cock nudging at his hole. Riki opened his mouth to protest, but his face was pushed into a suffocating pillow, Daryl's hands on the back of his neck. Slow burn as the faceless body moved against him, cock easing through protesting muscle. Thick stretch; he felt the pressure up his spine, in the back of his throat. Golden darts of heat radiated from the point of contact and his own cock rubbed slickly against his belly. There were teeth in his shoulder, a tongue tasting skin. A voice in his ear murmured, "God, you feel good! I didn't think you'd be so tight."

Tongue slow, Riki slurred, "Fuck you," but arched his back to let the stranger's cock slide deeper.

"Sure," the stranger said, warming up to the topic. "Street trash like you…thought you'd be used harder." Riki felt hipbones twist against his ass, fingers digging into his hips. "Thought you'd be loose and…dirty." Smooth, warm chest pressed to his back, cock deep in his ass, and the voice in his ear whispered, "Filthy. Thought you'd fight me a little."

"…can't," Riki whined. All he could do was tilt his hips against his assailant's strokes. The body behind him made shallow thrusts that Riki struggled to meet because he needed it harder, needed a hand on his cock.

Daryl said, "Yeah, that's good. Let him come. Make him."

Riki groaned in anticipatory relief as hands lifted his hips. Cool air against his wet belly made him shiver. A gloved hand gripped his cock, pumping steadily. He thrust forward into the tight fist, braced himself for the hard slam in his ass. Desperate groans drowned out the rough grunts of the man fucking him. The groans died in his lungs as he came, suddenly drained of tension, his cock pulsing painfully. Daryl's glove, sticky with spunk, touched his cheek.

"Good boy, Riki." Daryl's tongue darted out, tasting.

A weight was lifted from Riki's back and a body rolled to lie beside him. Daryl leaned over Riki's shoulder to kiss the stranger's face. Riki struggled to focus on the boy, someone young, younger than Riki. Handsome, with thick, dark hair hanging in his eyes. He smiled and said, "I'm Enil, by the way." Riki tried to snarl, but his lips wouldn't cooperate. He was tired, and his ass was throbbing painfully, as were his tied wrists. He let his eyes fall shut. Fuck them. He'd kill them tomorrow, after he got some rest.

Enil pushed one of Riki's eyelids open with the ball of his thumb. "Look at his pupils! Daryl, how much black moon did you give him?"

Daryl sighed, "Too much, maybe. I was afraid he'd fight, and I didn't want him to hurt you. Iason might want you to perform later. It wouldn't do for you to be bruised."

"He's so out of it." Enil shook his head regretfully. "I'd like to fuck him again when he's himself." He petted Riki's back and the curve of his ass, ran a hand between his sticky thighs.

"You'll get your chance," Daryl assured him. "You see how much he likes this, how he responds."

"Natural bottom," Enil agreed. Cruelly, he added, "Too bad you can't fuck him, Daryl." Cheerfully, with a hint of ownership, he smacked Riki on the ass. "Master Iason chose well."



After Daryl and Enil untied him, Riki drifted back to sleep, still feeling the effects of the drugs. He dreamed of gods and monsters, hands that coaxed pleasure from his cells, a cock that slid deep into his body and pierced his heart. Frightened and aroused, he jerked awake, his heart hammering against his ribs.

He wasn't alone. Iason watched from the doorway, his face hidden in shadow, pale hair gleaming like ice.

Riki sat up, holding the blankets against his chest. Coldly, he demanded, "What do you want?"

"To see you." Iason shut the door and came to sit on the edge of the bed. "Lie back." When Riki didn't immediately comply, Iason warned, "Or I'll have Daryl tie you down."

Riki eased himself down onto his back and watched warily as Iason removed a glove. Bare fingers trailed over his chest and circled his navel. Riki breathed in sharp, angry gasps, his stomach muscles jerking. His nipples hardened at Iason's merest touch and his skin prickled in the wake of his hand. He clutched handfuls of bedding and willed his body to go numb.

Iason's teasing fingers drifted down between Riki's legs. He touched Riki's cock as if it were just more skin, stroked his inner thighs, then came back to linger on the thickening shaft. "When you please me," he said, a faint smile twisting his lips, "I please you."

Regular, measured strokes drew him fully erect. Eyes squeezed shut, Riki took in great gulps of air in a futile effort to control his reaction. Gloved fingers pushed Riki's hair off of his forehead and traced the line of his jaw. A gentle thumb passed over his closed lids. The hand played with his nipples, right and left, then right again.

"You're so angry," Iason murmured admiringly. His bare thumb slid over the wet underside of the head of Riki's cock as it flexed in his grip. "You think you hate me, don't you?"

"Fuck you," Riki hissed, letting out a held breath. Iason let Riki's cock push into the cup of his palm, then spread the wetness down his shaft, tugging from the root to the head. Riki groaned, then angrily turned his head away, hiding his face from Iason's gaze. He fought to keep still but his hips lifted of their own accord, pushing into Iason's fist. Humiliated by the intensity of his pleasure, he came in near-silence, his back curved in a tense arch, come splattering on his chest. He was wrung out by deep, muscular clenches, his cock jerking until his balls were empty. He fell back, spent, against the damp sheet.

"You think you hate me now," Iason repeated, his voice low. "But just wait. I'll tame you, Riki. I'll take you apart."

Seething with rage, Riki wished for a moment that he were stupid enough to hit a Blondie. Iason just smiled and touched Riki's lips, his nipples, the smooth insides of the crooks of his elbows. He ran his fingertips through the cooling come on Riki's belly and licked them thoughtfully. While Riki panted quietly, staring resolutely at the ceiling, Iason leaned over and kissed him. Riki meant to turn away, to keep his jaw clenched tight, but he couldn't resist the flickering tease of tongue and the warmth and silky-slick wetness of Iason's mouth. He whimpered angrily, trying too late to turn his head away.

Iason was breathing hard when he ended the kiss. He looked very pleased--perhaps with Riki, or perhaps only with himself. Without speaking, he rose and left the room, the door closing on a swirl of robes and the pale flag of his hair.



Early the following morning, Daryl pulled Riki from his bed, threw a skimpy pair of black briefs at him, and barked, "Dress!"

Once he'd donned the tiny trunks, Riki was dragged through the back halls of Iason's home at the end of a…strap; he refused to think of it as a leash. Daryl walked briskly, leather creaking at every joint. When Riki balked, Daryl turned and gave him a sharp smack with his crop. The whip's stiff spine raised a welt across Riki's chest; the leather triangle at the tip was duplicated in a sharply-defined bruise that immediately beaded with droplets of blood. Stunned by the pain, Riki staggered obediently at Daryl's heels the rest of the way.

A pretty group who had to be Iason's pets reclined together on soft couches before a window overlooking flower gardens. The remains of a buffet breakfast sat on a table nearby. The house servants who passed through the room glared at the pets, their disdain apparent. The pets, seven males and two females, glared at Riki. Enil lounged on a chaise and, in a loud, drawling voice, told the group about how Riki had undulated beneath him, grunting and whining to be fucked harder. His description was dramatically at odds with Riki's aloof demeanor. There were cigarettes in a box on the table; Riki turned his back on the group and lit one.

Daryl poked at him with the crop. "It's a mistake to hold yourself apart," he warned. "You're certainly no better than them. In fact, they were bred for this and you--well, you're nothing but an accident. If you want any allies in this house, you'll find them here."

"I'm not staying," Riki said. "I don't need allies."

"Did you hear that?" Enil asked the others. "He's not staying. He must have important business in Ceres to take care of." The girls tittered behind their hands; the men merely smirked.



After eating, Riki attempted to retreat to his room, but Daryl followed him there, Enil in his wake, and the two of them wrestled Riki to the floor. They held him down where he fell, one knee beneath him and the other leg outstretched, his chest on the floor and Daryl's boot on the side of his neck. Daryl sat on the narrow bed and played with a shock-prod as Enil fucked Riki with steady jerks of his hips. Riki had already been fucked once. For this second round, Riki had significantly less fight left in him, and Enil was taking his time.

Riki swallowed hard and tried to shift out from beneath the pressure on his throat. Enil reached around and began to stroke his cock, but Daryl said, "No. He has to do it himself." He waited a beat, then said, "Riki, touch your cock."

Riki ignored him. Fucking Daryl.

Daryl's voice grew shrill. "Riki, pay attention! I told you to touch your cock."

Riki turned his head away.

The shock made the inside of his skull go white, airless as a vacuum.

He regained consciousness alone, sprawled on the floor, his thighs and ass hazed with dried come and his head aching. Daryl did not return. Iason did not visit.



Daryl woke him, jabbing at him with the crop. "Get up," Daryl barked, the whip whistling through the air to snap against Riki's belly. "You need to bathe. Master Iason is waiting."

So he'd see Iason again.

In the bathroom, Daryl handed him a bar of soap and pushed him under the shower spray. "I told him," Daryl said, "that trying to train you is wasted effort. You're too stubborn, and likely too stupid. But he insists." Daryl sighed. "He thinks you're going to be worth all the work." He cocked his head to the side, cheerfully meeting Riki's hostile stare. "We'll break you, eventually, Riki. I just hope there's enough of you left to please him when we're done." His smile was gleaming and insincere.

Riki didn't even notice the pet Ring until he started to soap his cock, a glint of metal seen through the coarse, dark curls at the base of his cock. It wasn't tight, but a casual tug proved that it wasn't loose, either.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Daryl warned.

Riki ignored him. The ring didn't seem to be fastened to his body in any conventional way. He tugged, then tugged harder. A good, hard pull didn't loosen the ring, but it did feel as though someone had simultaneously kicked him in the balls and the head. Groaning on the shower floor, Riki squinted up into Daryl's amused face. "Hurts, doesn't it? Don't bother trying. Only Master Iason can remove it."

Riki slowly got to his knees, then eased himself to standing by walking his hands up the tile wall. He felt dizzy, his knees a little weak.

"Hurry up," Daryl said impatiently. "Master's waiting." He held a towel ready, draped over his arm. "You already know Enil, of course," Daryl continued. "But today you'll get to know the rest of the boys." He smiled and slapped the spine of the crop against the palm of his hand. "We've got a very long day ahead of us."



Riki was naked but for chains, crouched on all fours with a boot between his shoulder blades. He had an upside-down view of Iason, looking past his own cock and balls and back between his spread thighs. Iason sat in an armchair with his legs casually crossed, hands steepled below his sharp chin, wearing a vague, distant smile. Riki held his ass in the air, as commanded, the hole exposed and slick with lube, sore from rough use.

The floor beneath his bruised knees was black ceramic tile gridded with flaking grout. His sweaty hands slipped on the slick surface and he drew rasping breaths through his open mouth, sucking in air that stank of fear and semen. He was pinned down under a cone of hard white light, the rest of the room shadowy and indistinct. He knew, however, that there was a drain in the floor and a row of hooks in the ceiling. There were rooms like these all over Midas, in the backs of clubs, or the basements of abandoned buildings. There was good money in sadomasochism, but Riki had never been interested. He still wasn't interested.

They'd been having these sessions for a week now, maybe longer. Riki had lost track of the days a few sleep cycles back, and now time was marked by changes in position, the presence or absence of pain, and the abrupt, scene-stopping effects of orgasm. He was exhausted. His eyes closed and he let his forehead drop to rest on his chained wrists. Instantly alert to any sign of relaxation in the lines of his body, Daryl gave Riki a shove with his boot. "Keep your ass up," Daryl hissed, "or I'll give you a reason to cower."

Iason reached for his drink, ice clinking against the sides of the glass. He took three long swallows while Daryl and Riki waited, then remarked, "I don't think he's enjoying himself, Daryl. Make him hard again."

Riki had been kneeling for what seemed like hours already. Daryl often started before Iason arrived. Today, he'd spit on Riki's back, then parted the cheeks of his ass and spit on the tight hole before forcing a finger inside. When Iason arrived, he'd insisted that Daryl use a more substantial lubricant, but for a long time he'd made no other requests. He merely sat and watched as Daryl paced, fucked Riki roughly with his gloved fingers, and taunted him with a repetitive litany of insults about slum rats.

Following Iason's request, Daryl stood with his glossy jackboots at either side of Riki's ribs, squeezing his sides. He ran his hands over the globes of Riki's ass, spreading them wide. The cool air felt almost good against Riki's sore skin. Hypersensitized, he felt the minute wrinkles in the leather of Daryl's gloves as the slippery fingers circled his hole.

"You like that," Daryl purred. One hand prodded while the other slapped his ass with a stinging blow.

"No!" Riki managed between gritted teeth.

"You do," Daryl murmured. "You're already hard again, just thinking about my fingers inside you."

"I'm not!" Riki lied. His cock throbbed shamefully. He could either look at its wet head rubbing sticky trails against his own belly, or past it to Iason's studiedly bland face as he enjoyed Riki's humiliation.

"Liar," Daryl sneered. Riki's hole was already so wet that Daryl didn't bother with more lube, but merely pushed a gloved finger inside, careless and rough. Riki sucked in a shocked breath and didn't let it out, biting his lip against a moan. Daryl moved in slow strokes, deep and hard, the seams in the leather like serrated blades laying Riki open. The muscles in Riki's thighs were long past exhausted and he curled in on himself. "Lazy, too," Daryl remarked. He pulled hard, a finger hooked in Riki's tender hole. "Keep your ass up, rat. Show Master how much you like this."

Riki whimpered, unable to silence himself. He wanted to be fucked, for the pain to be either worsened or obliterated. He bit his tongue to keep himself from begging for someone to squeeze his cock, since he wasn't allowed to do it himself. He knew better than to say the words, but he'd never felt so desperate, so willing to debase himself just to change his situation. He wasn't even particular any more: it didn't have to be a change for the better.

He tried to meet Iason's eyes, but Iason let his lids fall shut and leaned back in his chair, as if he were elsewhere, in some quiet, relaxing place where the air wasn't charged with pheromones and hatred. Daryl's booted calves squeezed Riki's chest and the hand that wasn't violating his ass groped between his thighs and caught hold of his stiff cock. Still not enough pressure; Riki choked out angry sobs of frustration.

Eyes still closed, Iason said, "Let's let him finish now, shall we?"

Daryl snapped, "Sit up," and pulled at Riki's shoulders. Moving was painful, though Riki tried not to let it show. He was covered in bruises, his back cross-hatched in welts from Daryl's crop, the skin of his ankles and wrists striped with chafing from heavy leather cuffs. Daryl jerked Riki upright so that he faced Iason, legs spread, cock jutting up. "Do as Master Iason asks," Daryl commanded, poking Riki in the shoulder with his crop.

Finish. Let him finish. God, he wanted to come--needed to come, but he hated that Iason could command this performance. His cock throbbed, the slit beaded with moisture, and he could breathe a little easier now that he had permission to touch it. The gratitude he felt toward Iason for granting him release disgusted him.

He let his eyes close, took his sore cock in hand, and tried to forget that the loathed Daryl watched, too… One long stroke, meant to soothe, to get back for himself a fraction of the control that had been taken. His rhythm was tentative at first; it took a few moments for him to block out the sounds of the other two breathing and shifting position.

"Open your eyes, Riki. Look at me." Iason sat with his thighs apart, the tails of his robes covering his lap. He stared at Riki like a cat watching a mouse, eyes bright. "Keep your legs apart. Let me see."

Riki couldn't look long at Iason's face, unnerved by the intensity of his regard. Instead, he looked at his cock, dark and swollen and slick. There was a spot on the underside of his penis, just below the head, that had been made raw with repeated rubbing; touching himself there made him want to scream, or vomit, or just touch it again. The salt sweat from his hand stung in the wound. Each beat of his heart made the head of his cock throb, made the sore spot pulse like it had a heart of its own, leaping under his thumb.

Riki's breathing became more ragged; he drew his legs up to brace his feet on the floor, leaned back on his supporting hand. The chain at his wrist rattled against the tile with each stroke. Iason shifted a little in his chair. With that tiny movement, Riki was suddenly hit with a sense-memory of Iason's hand on his cock in the hotel and came with an indrawn breath, followed by the wet splat of semen on the tile.

He was still shuddering with aftershocks when Daryl stepped forward, reaching for the chain at his throat. "No," Iason said. "Leave him. Wait for me outside." Daryl stopped abruptly, blinking in confusion. "Go," Iason insisted. "Leave us."

Daryl walked slowly to the door, turning every few steps to look back at Iason. Finally, the door closed behind him.

Riki drew his knees up to his chest and stared at the floor, at his come white and glossy on the tile. Iason said softly, "I could make you clean that up." When Riki didn't respond, he continued, "I could make you lick the floor."

Already resigned, Riki asked, "Is that what you're going to do?"

"No," Iason replied. "It would dirty your mouth." He stood and took two steps to close the space between them. Riki scowled up at him, heart pounding. Iason crouched down, took Riki's face in his hands, and kissed him deeply, just as he had done at the end of the session a day or two prior. Riki had resolved to resist if Iason attempted it again, but his determination fell away at Iason's touch, and he responded with humiliating eagerness, lifting his chained wrists to clutch at Iason's robes. Iason's soft lips, and the clean smell of his hair shouldn't have been enough to make Riki tremble with relief and longing, but he felt lit up from the inside. Iason's hands were like cool water against his tender skin.

With a soft sigh, Iason broke the kiss. "I think you understand what I expect of you, Riki," Iason whispered, his tone almost cautioning. "I think you want to give it to me." He ran his hand down the center of Riki's body, from the hollow of his throat to the softened tip of his cock, then turned and walked briskly from the room.

Riki whispered, "I hate you," at Iason's retreating back.

Some minutes later, long enough for Riki to start to feel the chill in the room, Daryl came back for him. He was in a bad mood and snarled, "You don't know how lucky you are," before lashing at Riki with the crop. "Get up, you ungrateful rat."



Riki's arms were chained overhead, straining in their sockets, and he tested the restraints only half-heartedly. They were, as always, more than adequate for the purposes of keeping him exactly where Daryl wanted him. He knelt on a sheet-draped platform that brought his ass to the level of a standing man's waist, sparing Daryl the trouble of bending to torture him. Harsh white light beat down, casting his cock in deep shadow under the bow of his body.

Daryl stood behind him, idly toying with his balls. The sensation was both arousing and repulsive. Over these last few weeks, though, he'd come to agree with Iason and Daryl both: It was pointless for a pet to be ashamed of his body's reactions. Shame had no place in his world now.

Iason stood in the shadows just inside the door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and his boots crossed at the ankles; a rather defensive posture. When Iason was present for these sessions, Riki watched him, looking for signs of emotion in the still, beautiful face. Although it was Daryl who jerked him off, Daryl who worked the dildo into his ass, it was Iason's reaction that Riki sought. As he watched, he wanted his gaze to be blaming, even accusing, but usually he just--looked. And wondered if Iason would kiss him at the end.

Daryl had a new toy. He smirked and greased up a beautifully sculpted metal cock, oversized and grotesquely distorted with a sharp, straining curve. He touched the vulnerable flesh between Riki's thighs with a gloved hand. "This might hurt," Daryl said gleefully.

The metal was cold, so very cold that it burned. The tip was knurled like a tree root, the cold making its rounded edges feel sharp. Its contorted shape pressed against something inside and made it ache, something that fucking wasn't meant to touch. Riki swallowed hard, struggling to control his reaction. He felt cored open, filled with ice. He shivered and peered out between slitted lids. There was a momentary shift in Iason's features, a narrowing of his eyes.

Iason stepped away from the wall and said, "Stop. I will do it." Daryl's eyes grew wide, but he withdrew the metal cock and reluctantly retreated, sulking and stroking the tool's knobby length. Iason looked into Riki's face, touched his hair. Riki looked away, refusing to show gratitude.

Iason said, "Daryl, you may leave. I will discipline the pet myself."

When they were alone, Iason said, "You should thank me, Riki." Iason stepped behind him, ran a hand down his back. Pain shot through Riki's shoulders with even this light touch. "He would have hurt you badly."

"If it weren't for you," Riki pointed out, "I wouldn't be here at all. I'm thinking this is all your fault."

The idea didn't seem to bother Iason. "Blame me if you like."

Riki was acutely aware of the heat of Iason's body behind his own, the regular rise and fall of his chest behind the draped robes. For a long time, Iason did nothing. Riki heard nothing but his own harsh breathing, the creaking of the chain and the occasional pats of sweat droplets hitting the sheet.

When Iason finally touched him, it was a finger trailing over his lips. Tired of being probed by gloved hands, Riki bit hard, tasting blood. Iason's blood, metallic and rich. Iason snatched his hand back and growled his dismay. Riki hung still, the chain thrumming with tension, and wondered how he'd be punished.

He was fucked.

Iason didn't loosen his robes, merely lifted his garments out of the way. He kept his gloves on, his face impassive. His hands tightened on Riki's narrow hips, stilling his struggles. "Don't scream," he murmured, and then he pulled Riki back onto his cock.

Solid heat, too large, tore him apart. He arched his back in a vain attempt to get away, but the movement just made the searing pain of rough penetration worse. He bit his lip against any sound, not just in obedience to Iason's command but because he couldn't stand Iason knowing how much it hurt, how humiliated he was. Hands tightened on his hips but Iason stayed still, didn't thrust at all. Riki was frozen, bent like a bow, afraid to move or be split in two. He heard Iason swallow, sensed the effort he was making to control his breathing. But then slowly, almost gingerly, Iason pulled back, his cock sliding out of Riki's spasming body.

Riki choked back a sob. He had never hated anyone quite so much, or in quite the same way, as he hated Iason.

Iason tugged his clothing back into place and then came around to touch Riki's face. Soothing voice, gentle hand. "It's just discipline, Riki. You learn from it, and we move on." Another caress, as Iason said, "You must remember who you are, pet."

He left Riki hanging. It seemed like hours passed before Daryl came to cut him down.



Later, Riki lay across his bed, smoking in the dark, and plotted a vague revenge. The muscles in his shoulders ached and he couldn't sit, could barely walk. There were abrasions and deep, bruised grooves in his wrists and he picked idly at a scab, trying not to mope about the fact that Iason had not kissed him before he left.



Riki picked objects up, then put them back down a few centimeters out of place. He let ash drop on the carpets and heaved his boots up on the upholstery. He wandered out onto the terrace, determined that there was no reasonable way to get down without killing himself, and then wandered back inside.

Waiting alone, Riki alternated between boredom and nervous fear. An hour passed, then most of another, before Iason walked through the door. He'd been taking another circuit of the room and had stopped to examine an image of Iason with another Blondie, both in university robes, when he heard the faint click of a door closing. Iason stood behind him, his reflection superimposed on the recorded image. Both versions of his face wore a trace of a smile.

"Riki," he said. " Good evening. Thank you for joining me."

Riki immediately went on the defensive. "Did I have a choice?" He turned to face Iason and said, "Don't bother telling me I can't smoke in here."

"You can do anything you want," Iason assured him, coming closer. He touched Riki's face with a gloveless hand.

"Except leave," Riki snarled, jerking his head away.

"Except leave," Iason agreed. There was a hint of dejection in the broad line of his shoulders. He took a seat in an armchair near the artificial hearth. "We'll eat soon. Please prepare me a drink." He nodded toward a decanter on the nearby bar. "You may pour one for yourself, as well, of course."

With a shrug to indicate that he complied only because it seemed like less bother than protesting, Riki poured two glasses of liquor and carried them to Iason. "Here."

Iason looked up at him. "Is that all you have to say?"

Riki narrowed his eyes. "Yes." It was clear, though, that he knew what Iason wanted. Honorifics. Respect. For Riki to say his name.

Iason sighed and took the glass.



Riki sulked silently, waiting for Iason to notice how unhappy he was. Iason seemed oblivious, continuing to watch the screen of the newreader, occasionally tapping a button, while he sipped his drink. Riki tried loud sighs, restless shifting in his chair, and a few pretend coughs before giving up. Being ignored was apparently his new torture. He blew smoke at the ceiling, and eventually poured himself another drink, pointedly not asking permission to do so. Iason didn't seem to notice.

Iason remained absorbed in the data scrolling over the screen of the newsreader. Riki drank, smoked, and watched Iason work. Iason wore a loose robe of heavy yellow silk held at the waist with a wide sash. It fell open above the belt, exposing a broad expanse of pale skin mapped in pale blue veins. He was muscular but sleek, half again as large as a human man, yet still formed with delicacy and grace. The pale hair that fell to his waist was a mark of his status, but was also, quite simply, beautiful. People who looked like Iason were…impossible. People who looked like Iason were made, not born.

Restless and slightly incredulous that Iason would have him brought to his chambers just to ignore him, Riki asked snidely, "Are you always so attentive to your guests?"

Iason looked up, smiling. "You're not a guest, Riki. But, no. If you were a guest, I'd seek ways to entertain you. But this is private time, my time. I like to be alone here, surrounded by things that make me happy."

Riki rolled his eyes. "Oh, yeah. I make you so happy."

"You do," Iason said. Then, he reconsidered. "Well, you might. You could do better."

"Like how?" Riki asked, his tone belligerent. He had no intention of doing anything Iason asked.

"Come sit with me," Iason suggested, patting the cushion beside him. "Be quiet, be near. When dinner is ready, we'll eat."

Riki opened his mouth to say something rude, something cutting. But instead, he just picked up his drink and went obediently to sit by Iason. He was hungry. He didn't want to be punished. He sat down, shooting Iason a sullen, sidelong glance.

Iason smiled, then went back to his newsreader. Belatedly, Riki realized he'd been called a thing. Deciding that it wasn't much to concede in order to drink as much of Iason's liquor as he wanted, Riki leaned back against plush upholstery and watched Iason's backlit profile.

A uniformed servant entered the room, bowing low. "Master Iason," the man announced. "Dinner is ready."

"Serve us in here," Iason said. "It's nice by the fire."

Riki had thought the food served to the pets was the best imaginable, but this mean was even better. Iason watched him eat with amusement. "There's more if you want it, Riki."

Embarrassed, Riki said, "No. This is fine." He blotted at his lips with a cloth napkin made of fabric far finer than anything he'd ever worn next to his skin. Awkwardly, not sure what the situation called for, he said, "Thank you for the meal. It was good."

Iason smiled. "Of course it was." He reached to push Riki's hair behind his ear, but Riki flinched away.

Riki blushed and looked away, already angry with himself for doing so. He hated that he kept showing Iason shameful vulnerabilities. He had never shown his fear to anyone before.

"I want you to be comfortable here, Riki. Aren't you enjoying yourself?" Iason asked. His fingers just brushed Riki's forearm.

Riki shrugged, pulling his arm away in the process. "Enjoying myself?"

"I would like you to be happy."

Riki snorted. "I'm a prisoner," he reminded Iason. He pushed back from the table and lit a cigarette, glowering at Iason. Iason actually had the audacity to look hurt by Riki's words.

"What would please you?" he asked quietly. "Other than leaving. I'm not prepared to let you leave."

Riki thought for a moment. "I don't want to see Daryl again. Ever."

Iason considered. "All right. Anything else?"

"Let me see my friends."

Iason answered immediately. "No." A moment later, he added, "But I'll keep Daryl away. Is that enough, for now?"

Riki shrugged. "So long as you understand that what I really want is to leave."

Iason frowned and repeated, "I want you to be happy here."

"That's not going to happen," Riki insisted.

Iason sighed. He lifted his glass to his lips and condensation dripped from the crystal to make dark spots on the silk of his robe. He propped his head up on his hand and looked at Riki, grey eyes dark in the low light. "Do you know," he asked, "why you're here?"

Riki snorted. "Of course."

"So you will cooperate, then?"

Riki hesitated. "I don't want to be punished," he admitted.

"Good." Iason took another deep swallow of liquor and put the glass down. He reached for Riki, his hand a cool curve around the back of Riki's neck, then leaned in for a soft, spitless kiss.

Riki stiffened, heart pounding with apprehension, but melted at the press of soft, tentative lips against his own. Iason made a faint, needy sound, a rumble in his chest, and pulled Riki closer. Riki didn't struggle, didn't even hesitate to respond. There was no pain, nothing to recoil from. Daryl wasn't watching. No one would ever know that he wanted Iason's kisses. He even initiated deeper contact, a flick of tongue at the corner of Iason's mouth that made him whimper and clutch at Riki's shoulders, pulling him into his lap. Riki put his arms around Iason's neck and squeezed Iason's hips with his thighs.

Iason pushed him away, breathing hard, his face flushed. "We'll go to the bedroom," he announced. "We'll be more comfortable there."

"I'm comfortable here," Riki insisted, balking.

"Come on," Iason said, standing and reaching for Riki's hand. "Let's just get it over with."



Iason drifted about the room like a ghost, opening and closing draperies, lighting candles, setting musical chimes to tinkling. He seemed distant and unconcerned, but Riki was familiar enough with Iason's expressions--or lack thereof--to understand that his Master wore a mask at all times. There was incense burning, a decanter of dark wine on a table at bedside. Was this meant to be romantic? A seduction? The thought of Iason wooing him made Riki smirk.

Iason pushed his pale hair back over his shoulder. "Why are you still dressed?" he said somewhat crossly. "Take off those clothes."

"Where is the other?" Riki asked, although he knew this wouldn't be a performance. "Where's Enil? Or is it Daryl this time?"

"There will be no other." Iason crossed his arms over his broad chest, frowning. "Make yourself ready. Stop stalling."

"You're not supposed to want me," Riki said, slightly embarrassed by the note of triumph in his voice. "You're not supposed to have me."

"You think you're so special," Iason said, shaking his head. "I hate to disappoint you, but this isn't the first time an owner has decided to be with a pet. You're very self-important." He crossed the carpet to stand before Riki, almost on top of him, and looked down into Riki's upturned face. "I put up with a lot of nonsense from you, you know." The brief touch of his lips was chaste, and surprisingly sweet. He stepped back and let his yellow robe fall from his shoulders, fluttering to the floor, then unbuttoned his pants and let them drop to his ankles. He was white and smooth as marble, his hair like poured cream flowing over the sleek angles of his body. His big cock was oddly beautiful, absolutely idealized. Again, Riki was reminded that Iason was something made, not born. Naked and very perfect, he walked past Riki and said, "Come to bed."

Riki pulled his t-shirt over his head and slowly unbuttoned his jeans. Iason watched from the bed, propped up on an elbow on sheets the color of saffron. His skin was very white against the burning gold. His long hair pooled at his elbow and more strands fell across his chest, almost hiding a small, pink nipple. When Riki was finally naked, Iason said nothing, but drew back the sheet in wordless invitation.

Riki shifted nervously from foot to foot. He started to cover his groin with his hands but made himself stop, his hands returning to hang clenched at his sides.

"What's the matter?"

Riki surprised himself by telling the truth. "I'm frightened."

"Of me?" Iason seemed genuinely surprised.


Iason sighed and repeated, "Come to bed." When Riki still hesitated, Iason's eyes narrowed and he added, "Or I'll come get you."

"And you wonder why I'm frightened." But Riki slid between the sheets to lay stiff on his back. Iason was very near, very large. Heat radiated from his body, carrying a deep, delicious scent of cool earth and crushed flowers. Riki took surreptitious sips of the air, letting Iason's scent fill his lungs.

Iason looked down into his face and touched him carefully, fingers at the hollow of his throat, and then traced the lines of his collarbones. Riki held his breath, lying rigid and staring at the ceiling. The pads of Iason's fingers were soft and cool, drawing little circles around Riki's tightening nipples.

"You have such beautiful skin," Iason murmured. "Jupiter always taught us that Ceres made nothing but monsters, but you're so fine and soft…" He moved closer, the warmth of his flesh raising a chill along the length of Riki's body. His touch was sensual and gentle; he was nothing like the disinterested, dominating man who seemed profoundly bored by Daryl's torture sessions. Riki felt a shiver of pleasure as Iason's silky hair slid over his skin and tangled in his fingers. Riki sighed, remembering Guy's long hair sweeping over his chest.

Iason bent to over him, his breath hot and moist against Riki's pulse. An eyetooth sank into his earlobe near to the point of pain, and a sucking kiss at the angle of his jaw threatened to bruise. Riki arched his neck to expose more skin and Iason gathered him closer, pulling Riki to lie against him full-length. Riki wrapped an arm around Iason's neck, pliant and willing. His cock was half-erect, growing harder, and Iason reached for it, a lingering touch tracing the muscles of Riki's hip before taking him in hand.

Riki lifted his hips against the circle of Iason's fist, threw both arms around the pale neck, and moaned like an animal.

If he'd had any self-respect left, he would have fought. He should have fought.

Iason threw a leg over Riki's hip, erections sliding side-by-side. The hot, insistent weight of Iason's cock shocked Riki alert. Too big, and the memory of pain made him panic. "No," he said, breaking a kiss. "You can't." He struggled in Iason's embrace, his cock deflating.

"Shh. It's okay." Iason stroked his back soothingly but didn't let him go. Riki trembled miserably, his limbs drawn up in fear. When Iason shifted his grip, Riki kicked out, shoved hard against Iason's chest and tried to force his way free. Iason just held on until Riki's fit of fright passed, then drew him close. "I don't want to hurt you," Iason warned. He reached down between Riki's quaking thighs. "You must stop struggling."

"Let me go," Riki whispered, his voice cracking. "Please." He pushed again at Iason's chest, dug his fingers into the muscles of his arms, and tried to pry himself loose. He tried to get a knee between Iason's thighs, but Iason merely shifted, covering Riki with his huge, heavy body, and holding his wrists. Panicking under the weight, Riki thrashed and bucked until he was out of breath and exhausted. When he was still, Iason slowly shifted off of his body. Holding Riki's wrists with one hand, Iason touched his face with the other. "I can't let you go."

"I hate you." Even more, Riki hated the way he sounded, like a helpless child.

"You won't always," Iason promised. He lowered his head for a kiss, his hair covering them like a curtain. Soft lips, tongue warm and wet, deftly explored Riki's mouth. Riki melted, hating himself for it, but even as they kissed, he tried to squirm out from beneath Iason's heavy limbs. His breath caught in his throat when Iason's hard cock rubbed against his leg, but Iason took his hand by the wrist and forced him to touch the thin, hot skin. He felt the tip nudge wet against his palm and was surprised when Iason gasped and hunched against him, burying his face in Riki's throat. "Oh!" His grip tightened painfully on Riki's wrist.

Despite his fear, or maybe because of it, Riki's cock stood out stiff and fat. Once again, Iason reached for him and Riki jerked away from his touch. "No!" Riki said roughly. "I don't want―."

"It doesn't matter what you want," Iason whispered hoarsely, showing a hint of irritation. "You should understand that by now." He got awkwardly to his knees and held Riki's hands down at his sides, at each hip. "Remember who you are," he said, sounding spoiled and selfish. "This is about what I want." He retrieved the heavy silk sash of his robe from the floor and pinned Riki's arms above his head, binding them together with the silk. While Riki swore and struggled, Iason made soothing sounds and tied the ends of the sash to the headboard of the bed.

Riki tried to kick, but Iason held his legs and bent over him, the point of his tongue circling Riki's right nipple and teasing it erect. Iason sucked it to a stiff peak, then soothed it with the flat of his tongue while Riki bucked against the weight across his legs and jerked at his restraints. He repeated it on the left side, then the right again, back and forth until Riki was whimpering, anger overshadowed by arousal. He could feel each lick in his cock. Iason pulled off a shiny, wet nipple and blew across the swollen skin; Riki cried out and struggled anew, desperate for pressure on his erection.

Iason sucked kisses down the line of Riki's body, lifting his head to admire the red marks as they faded. He bent to lick at the slickness on Riki's belly beneath the straining head of his cock.

Riki groaned, "Please!" but he didn't want to be untied. He wanted to be sucked.

Iason smiled. "You like this." He slid down until his forearms bracketed Riki's hips, swollen cock bobbing just beneath his mouth.

"Please!" Riki whimpered. Iason smiled again, and lowered his head. One long lick, from base to head, and then Riki's cock was enveloped in dense, wet heat. When he looked down, he saw only blond hair and broad shoulders, but he felt the tight pressure of Iason's lips, the rub of his tongue along the underside of his shaft. He was just a few moments of determined suction away from orgasm. Iason lifted his head and Riki caught a glimpse of swollen lips stretched around his cock. He tensed for a few ragged breaths and then came with a shout, his hips lifting hard against Iason's jaw. Iason pulled back, surprised, but recovered and swallowed hungrily, moaning around Riki's softening flesh.

"Riki." Iason propped himself up, beaming, and wiping his mouth with the back of one elegant hand. Riki glared up into the radiant face. "This is how it can be between us, always." Big hands flipped Riki over onto his belly so suddenly that he had no time to struggle. Despite having better leverage in this position, he still couldn't loosen the ties around his wrists. Gathering his legs beneath him, he tried to push up to all fours, but Iason simply held him down with a hand between his shoulder blades. Iason wedged a knee between his thighs, pushing them apart, and knelt between them.

"No!" Riki thrashed futilely while Iason simply waited for him to tire out.

"It's all right," Iason said soothingly. His fingers probed between the cheeks of Riki's ass, stroking and teasing. "I'm going to lick you here," he said, simply stating a fact. "You'll like that."

Riki struggled to lift his face from the too-soft pillows. "I won't," Riki gasped. "I'll hate it." He blushed in the dark, knowing it wasn't true. He'd love it.

Arms went around his waist and Iason hugged him a moment, nuzzling the back of his neck. A wet kiss to the base of his spine was followed by the tip of Iason's tongue dipping into the cleft of his ass. Strong hands pushed Riki's thighs further apart, opening him, as Iason's tongue trailed further down to lick at his hole. Riki shuddered at the hot, wet touch of Iason's kiss, too intimate for Master and slave. Iason's tongue traced slow circles, dragging across the tense pucker, making Riki quake with combined lust and anger. It wasn't fair to be tortured like this, made to feel close to someone he wanted so much to hate. Slick pressure at his opening and the tip of Iason's tongue pushed inside. With a startled groan, Riki spread his thighs further of his own accord. Hurriedly, he tried to reverse the maneuver, but he was too late: Iason had already claimed the ground gained, holding him almost painfully wide.

"Please…" Shameful, and he didn't even know what he was begging for. It was too soon for him to come again, and he couldn't take any more of this slow, wet, slippery pleasure. "Please, Iason…"

Iason gave him a final, lingering lick and stretched out beside him. He slipped a hand down the sweat-slick curve of Riki's spine. His cock was hard between them, pressed against Riki's hip. He reached between Riki's thighs and fingered his slick hole. "You're ready for me, aren't you?"

At his words, Riki started shaking again. "No. Please."

Iason sighed and pushed just the tip of a finger into Riki's body, making him gasp. His voice quavering, Riki demanded, "Do you get off on forcing me? On rape? "

"It's not rape," Iason replied serenely. He licked Riki's ear and murmured, "It's not possible to rape a slave."

He rolled Riki onto his back again, forced a knee between his thighs. His cock stood out dark and hard and huge. The head was nearly as big as a fist, slick at the slit. Wet fingers, slippery with lube, pushed into Riki's ass. "Mmm…you're so hot," he whispered. "So smooth and tight."

"You're hurting me," Riki lied. When Iason withdrew his fingers just far enough to add another, Riki bit his lips so as not to betray himself with any moans of pleasure. Between gritted teeth, he hissed, "You're too big, Iason. Too big everywhere."

"Human bodies can take a lot," Iason said, soothing but unconcerned. "They're very elastic." He positioned himself between Riki's thighs, pushed his knees back and rubbed the wet head of his cock between the cheeks of Riki's ass.

Riki pulled against the silk sash and pleaded, "Don't. Please don't. You'll hurt me. You did before."

"It will only hurt at first," Iason said, "You're prepared this time." He leaned over and whispered into Riki's ear. "I've wanted this since I first saw you in the street." He reached between Riki's thighs, guiding the head of his cock, fat as a plum, to push against the tense hole. Riki braced his feet against Iason's hips in an attempt wriggle out of range, but Iason held him fast.

Riki couldn't see their point of contact, but he could see Iason's face soften as he entered Riki's body, cheeks flushed and lip held between his teeth. The stretch in Riki's ass wouldn't end, the burn wouldn't ease. Riki twisted at his bonds and tried to control his fear with deep breaths. "It hurts," he said. "Please."

"Just a little more." Iason shifted, sank in deeper. "It will get better, Riki, I promise." Riki squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, swallowing his protests. Finally, he felt Iason's hipbones pressed tight to his ass, and felt each beat of Iason's heart transferred through the thick heat of his cock. Riki shuddered and let slip a tiny sound of pain.

Iason's hand cupped his face, thumb stroking his cheekbone, followed by a soft brush of lips. "Beautiful." Tentative pump of his hips that made Riki's eyes roll back in his head, a white flash of fire spreading from ass to cock, out his fingertips and the tip of his tongue. The shape of Iason's cock moved through him, in and out, then deeper, rubbing sparks through the center of his body, a thin line of ecstasy trailing the agony. Riki opened his mouth to scream, but all that came out was a soft grunt. He pushed up with his hips, meeting Iason's thrust, and was rewarded with a bright, brief stab of pleasure and a gasp from his Master.

He begged again, but this time for, "More. Please, Iason."

Iason slipped an arm beneath him and lifted him into a hard kiss. Riki tasted blood on bruised lips. He struggled against the silk, but this time he wanted his arms free to wrap around Iason's back and bring him closer, get leverage to fuck him harder. Instead, he wrapped his legs around Iason's waist and dug his heels into the small of the broad back.

If he had chosen it, if their history were any different, he'd have said this was the best fuck of his life. Maybe it was anyway. Eyes screwed shut, jaw clenched, Riki threw his head back and came with a long wail. His semen was hot and sticky between their skins and Iason's eyes widened when he felt it splash on his belly.

"Oh, yes," he said, kissing Riki's face, and the exposed length of his neck. A few more snaps of his hips, and then Iason called for him urgently, thrusting in deep and staying still, his cock pulsing. Riki moaned at the heat of it and turned his face against the skin of his own arm, angrily smearing the tears from his eyes as he did so.

What had he done? Hard on the heels of the initial wave of euphoria, he was sickened. He'd not only been fucked by his captor, but he'd enjoyed it. He'd wanted it, urging him on. He lay twitching with aftershocks, Iason still half-hard inside him. He wanted to be able to tell himself that he hadn't liked it, and he wanted that to be the truth.

Iason withdrew slowly, touching Riki with gentle, reverent strokes. "Riki, look at me."

Because he felt composed enough to glare, Riki did so.

Iason touched his angry, tense face and said, "You belong to me."

Riki hadn't the strength to protest.


Riki woke up pinned beneath the heavy weight of Iason's arm. His ass throbbed with pain and he had to piss. As he struggled to extricate himself from their tangle of limbs, Iason jolted awake and reached for him.

"Riki? What are you―?"

"I think you hurt me. I need to use the bathroom."

Iason released him, but sat up and in a worried voice said, "Tell me if you're hurt, please, Riki. I don't want you to be in any pain."

Fucking hypocrite freak. Wincing, Riki walked slowly to the bathroom, his body creaking in protest. He shut the bathroom door and pissed. He sat down and wiped himself, the paper spotted with red. Thankfully, there wasn't much blood.

There was a robe on the back of the door, a blue silky thing. Riki put it on and looked around briefly for something he might use as a weapon. The problem was, he'd always been a street fighter, using his fists. He had no idea what might make a good weapon.

There was a second door to the bathroom, this one leading to a sitting room of some sort. There didn't seem to be anyone around, and Riki slipped silently from room to empty room. He had no plan, but imagined that eventually he'd find some sort of outer door, even just a window, and he'd be able to escape.

He padded barefoot through dark corridors, soft carpet beneath his feet. The only windows he could find were locked, and he could not manage to break the glass with either a heavy ashtray or a small metal sculpture of a woman's head.

The impact against the glass must have set off some sort of alarm. Three guards came for him, subdued him easily, and held him until Daryl arrived.

"Idiot," Daryl scoffed. And then, to the guards, "Follow me."

He was taken back to his little cell in the dormitory and strapped to the bed. After Daryl left, Iason came to see him. He stood in the doorway, dressed in the same blue robe that Riki had thought to run away in. It looked good on him, accentuating his paleness, the color of his eyes.

"You didn't dislike that, did you?" Iason asked sadly. He petted Riki's face with a bare hand, holding his robe tight with the other. "I was careful with you, as careful as I could be."

Riki frowned and turned his head away. No, he hadn't disliked it.

"I want you with me," Iason said, his voice low and insistent. "I want you sleeping beside me, Riki. But you can't keep trying to escape. Stay with me."

"You promised," Riki said. "No more Daryl. You promised." He refused to look at Iason, refused to see the hurt in his eyes. "I want to leave. I don't belong with you."

"But you do." Iason turned Riki's face up, a hand on his chin. "You belong with me. You belong to me. Why would you want to return to the slum?"

"I'm no one's slave there," Riki said, surprising himself with the simplicity of his response. "In Ceres, I'm a man."

"I don't understand what you want," Iason said, frustrated. "I'll give you whatever you need."

"There are things you can't give me."

"Not anything worth having."

"You're right, you don't understand," Riki sighed bitterly.

Iason shook his head, frowning. and left the room.


Two nights later, Riki was taken to Iason's quarters for another attempt at a night together. Once again, they were served delicious food, but this time Riki didn't taste it. Naked in the bed, lying stiff on his back with his arms at his sides, Riki asked, "How many others?"

"How many others what?" Iason's long, cool hand stroked from the hollow of Riki's throat down to the first curls of pubic hair, then back up again. "Have I been with, do you mean? None. You're the first one, Riki. I don't want any other."

Iason had been a virgin? Hiding his surprise, Riki sneered. "What kind of thing is that to say? Have you forgotten that I'm your prisoner?"

"You're my pet," Iason corrected him. He leaned in, put his face close to Riki's. "You're mine. I knew it as soon as I saw you. That's why you're here, Riki. You belong to me." Iason's intensity was unnerving. "You were out of place on the street. This is where you fit."

"You're crazy." Riki turned his face away.

"Maybe. But it doesn't make it any less true."

After a pause, Riki said, "I don't believe you. You must have done this before. You're too practiced."

"You don't have to believe me," Iason countered. "Your opinion is of little consequence. But I'll take it as a compliment anyway."

"Who says it was meant as a compliment?"

"I could kill you for insulting me," Iason offered. "And no one would fault me." He drew Riki close and kissed him. "Of course you meant it as a compliment."


Iason fucked him, sucked his cock, fucked him again. Riki bucked his hips up against Iason's mouth, tangled his fingers in the long hair, and emptied down the graceful throat. He arched his back and spread his thighs to make it easier for Iason fuck him, and clawed at the bedding when he came. When they were done, he let Iason draw him close, and he slept the entire night nestled close against his Master's chest.

He woke before Iason did, and watched him swim up out of sleep. He told himself that he'd participated willingly only to avoid further punishment, but he didn't entirely believe it. His body ached, every muscle taxed by Iason's greater size and strength, but this time he didn't mind so much, and that worried him.

He decided he hated Iason, truly hated him, but then Iason opened his eyes and smiled, and Riki didn't know any more.


As a result of his changed relationship with Iason, when Riki entered a room that Daryl was in, Daryl was required to leave it.


Iason liked to take Riki with him to appointments. Katze would drive, and then he'd wait in the car with Riki while Iason carried out his business. It wasn't unusual for an owner to travel around with a pet or pets for company, although Riki knew Iason's friends didn't approve of Iason parading him all over Tanagura.

It was humiliating that Iason felt Riki needed watching. Still, Katze, at least, would talk to him. Katze knew what it was like, being in-between. Blondies might use Katze's services, but they sneered at him when his back was turned. They didn't seem to realize that he knew this.

The ever-present cigarette dangled from the corner of Katze's mouth. "I saw Guy last week," he said, his tone casual. "He's doing all right."

"You didn't--" Riki began, but then he stopped himself. Of course Katze hadn't told Guy where Riki was, or what he'd been doing. Katze gave him a look, almost pitying. "That's good," Riki said quietly. "Thank you for telling me."


If anyone knew… Riki cracked the car window and exhaled a plume of smoke out at the dirty sky. If Guy or any of the other members of the Bison gang had any idea where Riki was, what he was doing, they wouldn't have believed it. He'd always been the leader, the decision-maker. Guy had fucked him because he liked being fucked; Riki had always been the dominant personality.

Casually, Katze offered, "Iason tells me that he's going to let you start going out on your own soon. You'll be glad to be rid of me, I'm sure. And I certainly have better business to attend to."

Riki clenched his jaw angrily. "Yeah," he said. "It's great." Then, unable to stop himself, he added, "You'd never guess I'd lived by my wits for years, would you?"

Katze lit another cigarette and said. "Wits. Yes, well, that's what got you into this situation, isn't it?"

Riki just looked at him, eyes narrowed. He scrambled for a comeback but…all he could do was glare. Pout. Katze snickered and lit another cigarette.


Riki was never going to be at home in Eos. It just wasn't done for a Pet to live in his Master's house, and even though there was a condo in Apatia with Riki's name on the deed, it was just for show. None of the other pets spent nights in Iason's house unless there was a party or some other entertainment planned, and it was too late for Riki to become friends with them, anyway. He was too different. They'd all become pets willingly, even eagerly, submitting themselves to the Academy for training. Riki had been kidnapped off the street. The rest of Iason's pets were fair-skinned, like all valuable specimens, but Riki was tanned and his hair wasn't just dark, but black. And although none of them would spend more than 18 months in Iason's care, Riki was well into his second year of captivity. While he was clearly Iason's favorite, it was impossible for anyone else to know how to treat him, how to behave around him. His presence made everyone, Elite and pet alike, uncomfortable.

Every fact of his existence isolated him. He was absolutely and utterly alone.

None of Iason's friends―who were also his colleagues―approved of Iason's attachment to Riki. Becoming too fond of any pet was frowned upon, and Iason didn't even try to deny the rumors that Riki was "special" to him. Iason's closest friend, Raoul, was openly hostile, condemning the relationship and claiming that any happiness Iason believed he felt was only temporary and predicted grave repercussions.

When Raoul visited, Iason suggested that Riki find ways to occupy himself in the far, quiet corners of the house.


After Raoul left, Iason seemed particularly preoccupied. Riki brought him a drink and asked, "Raoul has been haranguing you, hasn't he? He wants you to release me."

Iason smiled ruefully. "But you know that I don't listen to Raoul."

Riki shrugged. "It's always worth a try."

"Do you hate it so much here?" A frown of concern creased Iason's perfect brow, if only momentarily.

"You don't hear my complaints," Riki pouted.

"I hear you. You say you're lonely," Iason replied. "But there are other pets here. They know you are special to me. They should be eager to befriend you."

"They aren't the sort of company I want."

"Well, if you're going to be judgmental…" Iason replied. And then he turned back to his newsreader.


If there had ever been an opportunity for Riki to freely choose, he might have chosen this. But there was never any choice, and he was no longer allowed to make decisions for himself. He woke with Iason sleeping beside him and thought to kill him, not for the first time. A knife in the throat, a gush of blood that he always imagined as purple, like wine, though when he had seen Iason's blood in the past, it was merely red. Ordinary and startlingly human.

But, instead of killing him, he pushed the hair off of Iason's face and watched him sleep, admiring the cool beauty of his face in repose. The glow of his skin was like quartz--something Riki knew about only because Iason had shown it to him. Iason liked to bring him beautiful things and drew comparisons, both overt and subtle, between Riki and these objects.

He smoked a cigarette and watched Iason's fingers twitch on the edge of the blanket, reaching across the cool sheet in search of Riki's skin. If he ever decided to do it, to kill his Master, Raoul would delight in seeing to the punishment. He'd petition Jupiter to be allowed to choose the mode of execution. Raoul would want to see Riki fucked to death, no doubt. Fucked to death by pets.

When he was through with the cigarette, he kissed Iason's forehead and eased down beneath the sheets. Iason murmured something too garbled to be real words and pulled him close with a contented sigh.

He would keep his options open. Someday he might do it, but probably not any time soon.


"Raoul wants you," Riki offered, rolling over, out from beneath Iason's arm. "That's my theory. He wants you to release me so that he can take my place."

"You must not speak so disrespectfully." Iason stretched and yawned. His hair was in tangles, and his skin was flushed and sleep-warm. His big, sleek body radiated heat. He reached for Riki and drew him back close inside the curve of his arms. Riki shifted a little and felt the point of Iason's chin against the top of his head, strands of silvery hair sliding across his lips.

"Why is it you Blondies don't fuck one another?" Riki squirmed experimentally, but Iason wasn't letting him go. "Why is it against the rules?"

"We're sterile," Iason replied. "You know this." His hand slipped down to rest on Riki's belly, just above the base of his cock.

Riki shifted his hips and Iason's hand followed, fingers cupping his balls. He swallowed a groan and said, "That's not an answer, Iason. It makes no sense. You and Raoul couldn't have children anyway. Why can't you fuck him?"

"Why are you so adamant that Raoul and I should have sex? Perhaps you'd like to watch?" But Iason laughed into Riki's hair, which reassured him that he hadn't offended his Master. And, as Riki was well aware, Iason wasn't much of a voyeur. He liked to participate.

"Truth is," Riki continued, pushing his ass back against Iason's hips, "You don't know why you're not allowed, do you? You don't even know why there are fewer and fewer women each year. Does Jupiter know?"

"Jupiter would tell me if I needed to know," Iason said, in a tone that brooked no further discussion. But despite the fact that Riki was veering into dangerous conversational territory, Iason's cock hardened against the backs of Riki's thighs.

"Get on your knees," Iason whispered hoarsely. "I plan on fucking you very hard."

"For my insolence, I imagine," Riki remarked, rolling over to his knees. "To punish me."

"I don't need to take off my clothes to discipline you," Iason reminded him. "That's not what this is about. I just want to fuck you hard."

Riki said, "No, don't," but groaned and arched his back, lifting his ass high and spreading his thighs wide apart. Iason's fingers brushed over his hole. He pushed back into the touch but said, "Lube, please, Iason. Lots of lube."

Riki braced his hands against the wall and leaned back into each thrust. He could almost feel Iason's cock in the back of his throat, each pump sending shock waves through his body. Iason pulled almost all the way out, then slammed back inside with a cracking jolt to Riki's spine. Riki's cock jerked feebly, only half-hard, but he came with an intensity verging on pain from the stimulation to his prostate. Iason kept moving, solid as a piston, a hand on Riki's waist and the other on the back of his neck, holding his head down. Riki felt small and helpless and it was indescribably nasty for even the hint of subjugation to be so hot.

"God, please," he begged, "Iason! Please come! Please, Iason. You're hurting me!" And it was true, but he didn't care if Iason came immediately or hours later, because he wanted Iason inside him even with the pain, even with the fear that his spine would break in two with the steady pounding of the cock in his ass. And if that happened, it would kill him, which wouldn't be the worst thing to happen, since he couldn't imagine how else he would ever get away. Then Iason shouted his name and slammed into him so hard that his teeth snapped together, just missing his tongue. He felt the heat of Iason's semen deep inside, too deep, the sensation both repulsive and erotic.

Iason laid Riki down on his back, put two fingers in place of his cock and used them to fuck him slowly, his head resting on Riki's chest. Riki gripped handfuls hair and whimpered, rocking his hips against the slow movements of Iason's wrist.

"You like that, don't you?" Iason murmured. "Tell me, Riki. Are you happy?"

"Yesss." Riki laughed, although he wasn't really amused. "Oh, god, yes."


When he opened his eyes, he was startled by his own expression reflected in the mirror. He was on all fours, ass in the air and chest on the floor, and his eyes were molten, mouth blurred with kisses. Iason's hands spanned Riki's hips, and his hair hung in a sheet from his bowed head to brush Riki's back.

Riki said hoarsely, "Look. Look at us."

Iason's head came up and he stared, unfocused, at their reflection. Riki started to push himself off the floor, his arms trembling with the effort, so Iason wrapped his arms around Riki's chest and lifted him. Riki's skin was stretched taut where Iason's cock entered his body; his own cock stood stiff and dark against his belly. Riki reached for it, but Iason got there first.

He let his head fall back against Iason's chest, hid behind the tangle of hair―his black with Iason's blond―and reached up and back to twine his arms around Iason's neck. The fingers that stroked him knew his rhythms well, and he came with a rough cry, lifting his face to nuzzle at the underside of Iason's jaw.

Iason groaned, threw his head back, and lifted his hips hard against Riki's ass. A few thrusts, and Riki felt Iason's cock jerk. The pale, beautiful face, usually so impassive, was flushed and vulnerable. Liquid eyes, dark like mercury, met Riki's in the mirror. A hand was spread wide against Riki's belly, above his softening cock, and the other wrapped around his chest. Iason buried his face in Riki's hair and his big body trembled as he drew in a deep breath.

Riki said what he always said, low and uninflected. "Let me go."

Iason always had the same response. "Not yet. It's not enough."

Riki turned his head awkwardly, ignoring the pain in his neck, and kissed Iason with rough urgency. He turned in Iason's arms, wincing as Iason's cock slid out of his ass. He wrapped his arms around Iason's neck, his legs around his waist, and bit at Iason's mouth, growling like an animal. Iason sucked a kiss into Riki's throat and felt between Riki's legs, touching his slick hole, then his cock. Riki ground down against his hand, whimpering with raw need.

"It's not enough," Iason repeated. Riki knew what he meant. It would never be enough.


"What were you waiting for, anyway?" Riki lay with his head on Iason's chest, blowing cigarette smoke at the ceiling. "What made me special?" He felt a little giddy, his bloodstream coursing with endorphins. He paused, waiting to see if Iason would answer, even compliment him, but Iason did not speak. Continuing, Riki added, "You're so much older than me. Wealthy, handsome. I couldn't believe you were still a virgin."

"It didn't mean anything to me," Iason said. "It wasn't important. Virginity is merely a state of being. You're too sentimental."

"That's such shit," Riki said. "You kept souvenirs." He made a gesture toward a crystal bowl containing the lopped heads of dried, red roses. "Those are the flowers from the dinner table on our first night, right?"

When Iason looked at him blankly, Riki said. "Our first night, Iason. Remember? The first time you fucked me."

"You're forgetting," Iason said, his face suddenly cold and shuttered. "That wasn't our first time."


She was a lesson. Once Riki learned it, he never saw her again. Katze brought the girl to the party, a new acquisition for Iason. He handed her over to Iason on a leash. Iason said, "Drop," to the girl, and "Fuck her," to Riki. They were in a room full of Blondies, a penthouse with a panoramic view of the city, and the guests were all Elite. The pets were all pale beauties, and the girl turned up her nose at Riki's dark skin and hair. Iason slapped her across the face, heads turning at the crack of his hand. "Drop," he repeated. Riki slowly lowered himself to his knees behind her. It had been over a year since Iason had forced him to do this, since he'd been part of the entertainment. It had been over a year since Riki had had sex with anyone other than Iason.

He'd believed that his Master cared for him. Well, he'd been wrong.

Over a year since he'd fucked anyone; never, ever had he been allowed to fuck Iason. Over a year, so he put his all into the act, angry eyes on Iason's face the entire time. The girl dug her fingers into the carpet and mewled while Riki drove into her body. She was wet and tight, and her hips felt good under Riki's hands, a perfect fit for the curve of his palms. Iason smoked and looked bored, exhaling clouds at the ceiling, not meeting Riki's eyes. Riki came loudly, grunting out his rage, and the girl yelped and fingered herself, and they all watched her come, too. Some of the onlookers laughed. Riki sat back on his haunches and stared at Iason, trying to convey all the hurt he felt without words.

Riki sulked in the elevator up to Iason's apartment. He could still smell the girl's body on his skin.

"You're angry, I know," Iason said, finally. "But you seemed to have forgotten that I am your Master."

"I hadn't forgotten," Riki replied stiffly, insulted.

"I think you had." Iason peeled off his gloves, using one to brush invisible dust from the front of his draped robe. "You are my pet, Riki. It means you belong to me, not anyone else. Not even to yourself."

Softly, Riki repeated, "I hadn't forgotten."


After an hour spent in an atmosphere of accusatory silence, Iason pushed the newsreader aside and gave his full attention to Riki. "What is it?" He sounded tired.

"What do you think?" Riki snapped. He stabbed out his cigarette and lit another.

Iason sighed and pushed his hair out of his face. "Is this still about the party? What do you expect from me, Riki?"

"I want you to admit that what you did was wrong. I want you to apologize."

Iason turned on him angrily. "This is the very problem, Riki. You do not know your place. I do not have to explain myself to you. I owe you no apology."

"My place!" Riki was incensed. "You want me to 'know my place,' do you?"

"You're my pet. You seem to forget so easily."

"Is that really all I am? Just your pet?"

Iason's face was tight with rage. "What else would you be?"


"I'm letting you go," Iason announced. "Go home. Go back to your slum."

"What?" Riki looked up from the book in his lap. "What did you say?" His mouth hung open, slack with shock.

"Leave. You want to leave, so go." Iason poured himself a drink and circled around the room to his usual seat, passing behind the furniture instead of just walking the straight path to his chair. But instead of sitting, he walked to the window and looked out into the overcast afternoon. "You can take your motorcycle and any clothing you have. In fact, I insist."

Riki crossed the carpet to stand at Iason's side. He touched his elbow and was surprised when Iason flinched. "Iason, I can't just―"

"Ah, of course. The pet ring." He poked at the buttons on his wrist display and Riki felt a faint vibration at the base of his cock. "If you'd be so good as to retrieve it for me…" He held his hand out, palm up, not meeting Riki's eyes.

Riki unbuttoned his jeans, reached in and fished out the metal band. He dropped it on the palm of Iason's glove. His mouth felt very dry. He felt stupid standing in Iason's living room with his pants undone, Iason refusing to look at him. It felt as though his heart were being gouged out with a dull knife.

"You should go while it's still early," Iason said lightly. "Go find your friends. I'm sure they've wondered where you've been."

"I'm not telling them," Riki said. "They wouldn't understand."

"Whatever you choose to tell them is up to you." Iason set his drink down on a table and wrapped his arms around himself with a shiver. "I won't be interfering with your decisions any longer." There was a distinct edge of self-pity to his tone. Riki reached for him, beseeching, but Iason stiffened at his touch.

"Iason, please―"

Iason cleared his throat, but still would not turn, would not face Riki. "A year. You have a year of freedom."

Riki swallowed hard. "And after a year?"

"A lot can happen in a year," Iason said. "Things change so fast."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Iason turned and smiled, and for a moment he looked like his usual self--studiedly blank, but very much alive behind the mask. "I don't know," he said. "Come back and ask me again in a year."