Cages

Zechs 16
Collar turned out to be horrific, but not quite as horrific as I had previously envisioned.
Let me explain. When we had entered our ship, everyone of the passengers were normal people, but by the time we left the ship many of them had transformed into slaves, and a few had suddenly become masters. It was apparent who was the master and who was the slave because slaves were dressed in often skimpy, suggestive outfits, while the masters usually donned more modest, serious outfits. I say usually because Heero informed me that there was no dress code for masters or slaves, and some masters covered their slaves from head to toe, while others made them walk around completely naked. It was the same for masters, although they almost always wore something to cover themselves, even if it was only one distinctive part of themselves.
I realized upon seeing this that I hadn’t really thought about Heero’s wardrobe. Heero had always been naked at home and didn’t seem to have a problem with this, so I hadn’t really been aware of the need for more modest apparel. I was swiftly brought to my senses upon our arrival, but Heero told me that it was fine, that many masters waited to buy their slaves clothes until Collar, because there was such a wide selection and such care taken in the making and style.
Being told this, I quickly ushered us to our room, which was amazing to say the least. It was more like an apartment than a hotel room. First of all, there was the bedroom, which was actually the largest room. Inside the bedroom there was a raised platform covered in a mattress, which was supposed to be the bed, though it could have easily fit eight or nine people. There was a large closet and an adjoining bathroom housing a whirlpool bath and shower. Compared to the bedroom, the livingroom was only half as big and had only a couch, TV, and small end table. The kitchen was small but neat and well supplied, though I don’t think the owner of the hotel believed anyone would have time to use the kitchen. There was also a servant’s quarters and bathroom, which was much closer to what one would find at a cheap motel. There were two single beds in the servant’s bedroom, but Heero told me masters would sometimes sleep up to six slaves in that one tiny room. I certainly wouldn’t allow that.
Once the bags were settled Heero led me out of the hotel and into what seemed to be a giant mall. It was there that I finally began to see what Collar was really like.
It was strange, honestly. I could see so many slaves, collared and used, smiling, happy, and laughing. Despite the evidence Heero bore to the contrary, it looked like many of the masters took good care of their slaves, physically if not emotionally. Most of them were in expensive outfits, wearing expensive jewelry. One master would walk by with three or four slaves on his arms, looking more like a celebrity than a slave owner. There were few that bore scars, and even then most looked more like accidental scars than purposeful abuse.
There were a few cases to the contrary. I dark haired boy who walked a few paces behind his master, his head hung, his feat dragging. Another boy in nothing but a thong flinching as his master grabbed playfully at him. And yet, these instances seemed to be the exception, not the rule.
“A lot of them pretend to be happy,” Heero told me as he saw me looking around, “A master wants a happy slave, not a moody one. Most of them make their master feel like a rock star, so he treats them like his bitches. And, a lot of masters take special care not to mark their slaves. A slave with a scar instantly loses value. It’s like trying to sell a used car. It sells better if it looks like it hasn’t been run a whole lot, or that the owner put some work into them. My masters didn’t think they could make me look like new, so it didn’t matter how hard they ran me. Most masters aren’t like that, but some are,” Heero told me, his head down. “I’m sorry that I can’t be like that for you. I know I can make it up to you if you enter me in Collar. Slaves that place in Collar are worth more than the prettiest slave. I can...”
“Enough, Angel,” I quieted, “You’re more than enough,” I soothed. Heero had gotten it into his head that he wasn’t worthy of me, and I wasn’t sure how to stop it. Wasn’t sure that I could and still keep him my slave.
Heero led me to one of the many clothing shops that tailored to slaves. It... was not the simple matter I had thought it to be. In the beginning, I had decided to simply let Heero choose his own outfit. I had thought, naively, that he would look wonderful in anything and I had wanted him to be comfortable in what he was wearing. I changed my mind, however, when he came out in a green tank-top, black biking shorts, and a hideous pair of yellow boots. I know I sighed and rubbed my head as I put a hand on Heero’s shoulder and pushed him back into the stall. My slave was beautiful, but even his beauty couldn’t stand up to those clothes.
The first outfit I chose was mainly to shied Heero’s back, as he was very conscious of is scars. I had decided early on that he would not be wearing anything without a back, so I had already slightly limited my choices. The first outfit that caught my eyes was, I must admit, a bit... frivolous.
The outfit itself was fairly simple. It was an old style, almost Victorian piece, which I thought would go along nicely with my formal prince clothes. It started with small, low-cut boots which were folded over and accentuated his small ankles, along with leggings, and the puffy, knee-length, black trousers that I thought were just adorable on him. His top was white, long sleeved, and buttoned up. It had frills down the front and the first three buttons were left undone, exposing just enough of his chest to be alluring. The sleeves frilled out at the bottom and covered his hand completely. A dark red cape finished the outfit as it hung over his shoulders like a backdrop, making him look even smaller. He looked like a young prince or duke.
The second outfit was a bit more traditional, if one can say that. It was a leather jacket covering his shoulders and left open in the front, a tiny pair of leather shorts, and long leather boots to keep the amount of skin shown to a limit. It also came with a leather cap and some studded leather bracelets. It made Heero look like jail-bait, but he said it wasn’t the worst costume he had worn, so I took that as approval.
The third outfit I chose was a harem outfit. It was sky blue, like his eyes. It was made of a see-through gauze which allowed one to see most of his arms and chest, along with his legs and lower thighs. The shirt and pants overlapped from just bellow his navel to his upper thighs, so that everything between was hidden from sight.
“How many outfits do you think we should get?” I asked as Heero came out of the dressing room to model the third outfit. Honestly, I was a little anxious to get back to the room. Seeing Heero in all those outfits was just too tempting, and I could tell from the way the gauzy material tented around his groin that Heero was ready too.
“Slaves usually get seven to ten outfits,” said a perky, feminine voice behind me, “so that they have enough outfits for the banquet and some to wear to the actual contest.”
I whiled around to see a woman about my age dressed in a snappy suit standing behind me. He name tag pronounced that she was Silver, and her hair attested this fact. Still, she smiled warmly at me and continued to speak.
“Hi, my name’s Silver. Is there anything I can help you with?” she asked.
“Well, I was trying to get my slave some clothes, but it seems that I’m going to be here all night trying to put outfits together by myself.”
“Well, we have a whole store of clothes and I’m sure I can help you find something you’re looking for. What’s his name?”
“Angel,” I told her, shortening Heero’s Collar name.
“Ooh!” she squealed, pulling a nervous looking Heero forward, “You simply must put him in our angel costume! He would look just too good!”
“Well, alright, but I don’t want anything too indecent,” I told her, pointing to Heero’s body, “I want him covered from here to here, and at least from here to here.”
“Hmm, that narrows it down a little, but a lot of masters are possessive about their slaves. What about from here to here?”
“Yes, that will be fine.”
“Oh, we could do a corset. Or something with a cinch here.”
“No, I need him to breath. What about straps, or lace?”
“Oh yes, lace would be lovely on him. And gloves. Shoes?”
“No heels.”
“But boots. Or slippers.”
“Yes, that’s good.”
“How about this?”
“No, that fabric’s wrong. What about this?”
“It’s too heavy, he’d sweat like a pig. This?”
“Too light, he’d tear right through it.”
“Ah, what about this one?”
“Perfect!”
“Well, I think I can get something for him to try on now. Is there anything else?”
I looked at Heero, who was looking flustered and overwhelmed. I couldn’t blame him, we had used him as something of a human mannequin.
“Angel, is there anything you want?” I asked. I had wanted to give him some input into his clothes, but it looked like Miss Silver and I had gotten a bit carried away.
“Uh...” he replied, still dazed, “I would like my weewee covered, please.”

Zechs 17
Once our shopping trip was over and, unfortunately, the mood lost, I took Heero back to the room and ordered a delightful Italian dinner for us. Heero ate with gusto, as his meals had come sporadically the last two days. I was glad that he had made a full recover, as I worried about lingering side-effects of the drugs he had been given. But Heero was a strong boy and seemed more than capable of miraculous recoveries.
Once finished with dinner, I persuaded Heero to show me where the gym was. After we had both donned more casual gym-wear, as I had been wearing my military uniform and Heero had been in one of his numerous costumes, Heero led me down the hall to the elevator. Floor sixteen, it seemed was dedicated solely to physical exertion, as the entire level was one big gym including a health spa and pool. I was impressed, but also somewhat concerned. Heero had a tendency to overexert himself with our limited equipment at home, I wasn’t sure what he’d do with all these machines.
I also learned that, while there was no rule to say that a master couldn’t come to the gym, most did not. I was somewhat disappointed, as I had enjoyed training with Heero before, but seeing the need to keep a low profile forced my decision to let Heero have his privacy. I did, however, have a stern talk with Heero about pushing himself too hard. I made it clear to him that, while I understood the need to get stronger, if he damaged his body by pushing it past its limits he would be in very serious trouble. I also talked to the trainers on hand about Heero’s tendency, telling them that while I didn’t think he’d be a problem, if he did push himself too hard I was to be contacted immediately, no matter what. With that, I waved goodbye to Heero and went back to the room.
The room seemed empty without Heero, but I was glad to have some privacy to finish the report I had started on the shuttle. If things went well, I probably would not be alone very often, so it was important that I finished telling Lady Une of my findings. Time flew as I tapped away at the keyboard and by the time I had sent the message Heero was just walking in the door. With all the stress he had been under earlier and his tendency to overwork himself, he was barely on his feet. I helped him into the shower then pushed him under the covers, swiftly climbing in beside him. We were both exhausted and soon asleep.
The next morning, I drilled Heero about etiquette and who’s who in Collar. I didn’t want a small blunder to blow my cover. I also needed to get to know the other masters, to scope out the competition, so to speak.
“The best place to meet people would be at parties. All the masters who have been here a while hold open parties to get to know the newer masters on the first day. After that, parties are invite only.”
“So this whole first week is just to get drunk and have a good time?”
“Not at all. The parties are loosely veiled meetings to research the competitors. Two masters competing in the same field will spend a lot of time together, trying to see the other’s weaknesses and flaws. Being new, it won’t be strange for you to attend a lot of different parties, because you’re not considered a threat in your first year.”
“We’ll see about that,” I responded with a grin.
“I think I’ve mentioned it before, but this is also where a lot of the slave trading goes on. Masters bet to try to win better slaves, but the really good ones won’t be on the market.”
“So you mean that this is the middle ground for buying, right?”
“Yes. These slaves are good enough to be owned but not good enough to keep. The good slaves are often sold, and they bring in a pretty penny.”
“I see. But you weren’t considered a good slave, and you’ve done wonderfully.”
“Yes, but... my circumstances were strange. You won’t often find a slave in my predicament.”
“You’re one in a million,” I told him.
“Six thousand, actually.”
“Huh?”
“There are six thousand slaves in the Collar organization, along with four hundred masters.”
“But that would mean every master would own hundreds of slaves!”
“No, several thousand are owned by The Owner, the man who runs Collar. Masters are limited to fifty slaves, but most don’t want the problems that arise from having that many. Twenty is a pretty average count.”
“Ah. I see. Is there anything else I should know?”
“One the last day here, the warehouses bring out the unowned slaves and sell them. They are... the bottom of the barrel, as they say. It’s all the slaves that are barely worth paying money to own. When a master buys one, he usually plans to keep it drugged until it dies or kill it. You probably won’t want to get a slave from there.”
“But that’s where you came from, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but...”
“Why don’t we decide later. Right now, we should be getting ready for the parties, right?”
“We have plenty of time. The parties won’t really start until noon. It would give the wrong impression if you went out too early.”
“What would I do without you?” I asked, beaming. Heero blushed demurely.
“You don’t need me,” he said quietly.
“Actually,” I countered, “I think I need you very much right now. Seeing you try on all those costumes last night really stirred me up, so perhaps you could finish the job,” I suggested, tugging Heero toward the bedroom.
We were actually late to the parties, but I couldn’t say I regretted it.

Heero 18
If I had expected master to be different once we arrived at Collar, I would have been disappointed. He was still his same, overbearing, affectionate, somewhat mothering master that I had come to know in the past week. He still watched over me as though I would break. He still made sure I had everything I could possibly need. He still hovered as though my health was in danger. He still tried to let me have input into his decisions. But, most of all, he still cared for me.
I had been afraid that master would see how well groomed and lovely the rest of the slaves were and reconsider his ideas about me, but I was very wrong. While I did catch my master looking at some of the other slaves, he never once seemed to consider trading me for one, nor did he shown any interest in making me look like them. While he did take control after my first fashion blunder, he seemed more concerned that I was stylish and comfortable than in the most trendy outfits. Even after he found my lack of taste, he still tried to allow me some say in my clothing, though to be honest I was too overwhelmed to ask for more than my modesty to be covered, which I did with some rather embarrassing wording.
Even when I went to train at the gym, master still hovered like he always did, giving me a stern warning about overdoing it. I know he also said something to the trainers, but I was unable to overhear the conversation. Then he left.
Once master was gone, I ended up falling back into the rhythm I had used with my first master and forgot what master Zechs had told me. I didn’t quite pass my limits, but I was very close. I felt bad when I returned to the room and master had to help me into the shower, then I fell into an exhausted sleep as soon as I hit the bed. It made me feel worse that master didn’t say anything, simply helped me shower then put me to bed. He deserved better than what I could give him.
The next morning, we spoke at breakfast about the parties at Collar. I was in no rush to attend any, but I knew that master would need to if he intended to get more slaves. Once I told master that we would not need to rush, he initiated a bout of sex. I was eager to participate, both because I wanted to make up to my master for last night and because I wanted it for myself. My master was beautiful, and I had no qualms about lusting after him.
We had to rush to get ready for the parties after that, as we had taken too long with our fun. Master dressed in one of his military, princely outfits that made him look refined, masculine, and commanding all at the same time. He did not look like the kind of person anyone would disobey.
Master allowed me to choose my own clothes as he went to brush his hair, and I decided against the Victorian outfit. I decided that it simply wasn’t sexual enough, and my master would come off looking overly possessive. Instead, I opted for the harem outfit, which showed enough skin, but not too much.
It was strange to go to the parties with my master. On the one hand, he was still controlling and caring, as he had always been, but on the other I had to be careful to guide him and make sure he wasn’t led astray by some other masters trying to do him harm. To do this, I had to remain almost constantly by his side, always aware and alert of what others were saying and doing. Despite my skills as an assassin, it was quite trying. I almost thought I wouldn’t manage.
Luckily, the opening parties were always very sedate to allow new masters to get the feel of things. It was mainly just appetizers and beverages while masters chatted and showed off their slaves, most of whom preened under the attention. I must admit, I preened a bit myself, but a I was also rather shy. I liked that master Zechs wanted to show me off, but, at the same time, I didn’t really want to be shown off to these people. They still made me nervous and uncomfortable.
Master had gained his balance by the end of the night and had managed to make an impression on several other masters. One of the masters had noticed Master Zechs had the bearing and accent of nobility and questioned into master’s affairs. Master had quietly refused to comment, but the interest sparked in master Marcel’s eyes hinted that we would soon be invited to some of his parties. He had also struck a cord with Master Scrub, an older master with something of a germophobic nature. My master’s clean pressed dress had impressed him, along with the care he took in his hair, and master Scrub had mentioned a party he planned to have in two days. Another master named Zephyr had caught master stroking my hair and giving me an affectionate look. When master kissed the top of my head, thinking no one was looking at us as we walked out the doorway, master Zephyr had sent his slave, for he had only one, to invite us to tea. He said that we should feel free to stop by any time, but manners dictated that master would send a message first, to alert our host. I wasn’t certain of master Zephyr’s motives, but master Zechs accepted immediately, so there was no way around meeting him. I only hoped he didn’t criticize my master for being too affectionate.
“How do you think we did, master?” I asked as we readied for bed that night.
“Oh, extremely well. You were amazing, Heero. If it hadn’t been for you I probably would have agreed to go to the knife man’s party,” he said with a shudder. There was a master named Blade at the party who had a particular interest in long hair and knives. Unfortunately, he tended to use the knife to take the hair, then rape the victim and keep the hair as a trophy. As a master, Master Zechs probably would have been safe, but Master Blade was extemely volatile, and it was not worth taking the risk. He was not well liked, as well, and would have done more damage than good to my Master’s reputation.
“Not all master are as kind as you are,” I told him. I knew he would take it as a compliment, but in truth I meant it as more of a fact. I had known many masters who had not been kind at all, so I relished Master Zechs’ kindness.
“Flatterer. One thing did bother me, though,” he said, as he climbed into bed and pulled me down beside him. “Why weren’t there any girls at this party? I mean, not everyone is gay.”
“Collar was originally created by a male for other homosexual males. In the beginning, females were not allowed to be a part of Collar. The Owner did not want unwanted pregnancies, as he, for some reason, did not believe that anyone should be born into this. As it is, one must be at least thirteen years of age to become a slave.”
“You said originally. Is it different now?”
“A little. The ban on female masters and slaves has been lifted as technology in contraceptives advanced. You should know, all slaves are sterile, along with being free of diseases.”
“I suppose I can understand that, but then why haven’t I seen any girls?”
“Male and female slaves are kept in separate parts of Collar and compete in different competitions. There are very few female masters with male slaves, though there are quite a few male masters with female slaves. Since you requested a male slave it as automatically assumed that you would enjoy other males. If this is incorrect...”
Master laughed, deep and loud, but I wasn’t certain what was so funny. If master decided he liked girls better than me...
“Don’t worry yourself about that, angel. I’m completely gay, and have been for a long time.”
“Oh,” I said, honestly terribly relieved.
“You need to stop worry so much that you’ll lose me,” master said softly, seeing through my mask. Quietly, he shifted me closer and I buried my face in his shoulder. I trusted him, but somehow the fear just wouldn’t fade. We were quiet for a long time.
“You said the youngest slaves are thirteen,” master commented as the silence dragged on, “What about before that?” he asked.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything? Who raised you? What happened to your parents? How did you get here?”
“I’ve been an orphan as long as I can remember,” I told him. I think he anticipated this to be painful for me, but it really wasn’t. I had already lived it once, what more could it do? “I was raised by an assassin named Odin. He started my training, hoping more for a successor than a son, I think. When I was nine, he was killed on a hit. When I returned to get the money for the hit, the scientist who hired us offered to take me in. I didn’t have anywhere else to be, so I said yes. He began to train me and to modify my body after that. I was trained to be a soldier, assassin, hacker, mechanic, and slave. His training was harsh and his punishments were brutal, but he was fair. When I was thirteen, he registered me with Collar. Then he died. You know the rest.”
“So how old does that make you?”
“Seventeen, by his calculations. I don’t know how accurate they are, but Collar is very particular about the age constraint, so it must be pretty close.”
“Hm. Seems strange not to know how old you are,” master said, then let it drop. “Is that how all the slaves get here? Are they all orphans?”
“No. A lot of them are homeless kids, picked up off the streets. Some are convicted of lesser crimes and have no family, so their governments sell them here. I heard a few slaves say that their families sold them to pay for food, but that’s very rare. Most are picked up because they have no family, no one to miss them.”
“You know you do have someone who would miss you, right?” he asked. I gave him a confused look. “I’d miss you very much if you went missing, silly,” he told me. I couldn’t help but give him a grin. My master was so sweet, and such a sap.

Zechs 19
I can’t say that I grew any more fond of Collar after my first day, but I was getting used to it. I had feared at first that naked boys would line the walls, horribly battered and bleeding, and that I would be asked to put Heero amongst them. I had been afraid that I would have to watch while others used Heero’s sweet body, while I used the body of some other unfortunate boy.
It was much different. Heero was right when he said that most punishments were dolled out in private, as I had yet to see a slave garner anything more severe than a sharp crack to the rear. Masters openly held and touched their slaves, as well as complimenting and bragging about them.
Still, it was not a good atmosphere. Too many times had I seen a boy flinch in fear of his master, or turn away from an affectionate touch. There was an air of repression that hung over many of the slaves, and I was dedicated to lifting that. I knew, in order to do that, I would have to get in the top five of Collar. I already knew that I would enter Heero, but I worried about getting more slaves. I had promised not to risk losing Heero, and I was not regretting that. Still I needed a chance to gain more slaves without endangering Heero.
I never thought a chance would come up so quickly. The day after the introduction party, a redheaded slave showed up on my doorstep about noon with an invitation to meet up with master Marcel. Now, to be honest, my first impression of this man was that he was nothing more than a brown-noser, interested only in my title. Still, I wanted this alliance, and I had learned early on about how to deal with his type when I became a prince.
We met Marcel at about two, as we hadn’t gotten back until nearly four in the morning and Heero had needed to do his exercises, while I had taken the private time to type up a report. After a quick shower and change of clothing, which found me in a more Victorian style dress to match Heero’s outfit, we quickly made our way down to the cafe Marcel had specified.
Marcel we inside sitting at a small table when we arrived. About eight slaves were kneeling on a line of red mats behind him. There was also a red mat behind my chair and, as I sat down, Heero knelt on the mat behind me.
“Morning, my friend,” Marcel greeted. He had a deep, richly accented voice which complemented his large, somewhat brutish body.
“Morning?” I questioned, “It’s almost dinner.”
“Ah,” he dismissed, “You’ll get used to the times here soon enough. So many people used to prowling the nights, it’s hard for them to stop. Still, will this be breakfast for you?”
“Lunch, more like it,” I told him.
“Well, then you must try the fish. I swear, they breed them in the toilets and catch them themselves,” he said, laughing deeply. We continued on this strain for a while, making idle chitchat. Marcel told me several things I had not known about Collar, but nothing of great importance. When the food came, I felt a quick stab of regret for eating in front of Heero, but he had only had breakfast a few hours ago, so would not be too hungry.
When the fish, which was good but a bit too heavily seasoned, was cleared away, Marcel stopped trying to quietly get me to reveal where I was from and turned his attention to more lucrative conversation.
“So, you have not had many bets yet, yah?” he asked. “You perhaps would make a bet with me?”
“Of course. What kind of bet?”
“Pshh. First we decide the wager, then I tell you the game.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
“Is your first year. As such, I may take advantage of your newness.”
“I see,” I said, deciding to humor him.
“So, what shall our little bet be? I know you’re in need of slaves, and I seem to have an overabundance of them,” he said, casually waving toward the group of slaves kneeling behind him.
“I couldn’t possibly bet Angel,” I said quickly, not wanting to lead him on. “I don’t want to make it too known, but I’ve already begun to train him for Collar,” I said, certain that it would spread well enough that no one else would try to make a grab at Heero. If there was one thing I had come to know, it was that slaves in training were off-limits, and no one questioned it.
“Ah. I see. Well, then, I’ll bet one of those slaves for something else of yours,” he said. I could tell, then, that the slaves kneeling were not his better slaves, if he was willing to risk them. He had probably, wisely, left his training slaves at home. “How about that little bauble?” Marcel asked, pointing to my ring. It was a small gold ring with a rather large ruby. It was elegant, expensive, and ancient. Had I sold it, I could probably have fed a small country for a year. I gladly tossed it down on the table, far more ready to part with it than I was with Heero. Marcel lifted it at once, admiring the craftsmanship.
“It’s lovely!” he gushed, then set it back down, though his hands twitched to lift it again. “Now, which slave would you like?” he asked. I glanced at the group of kneeling slaves. They were all beautiful, with a variety of skin tones and hair colors. One, in particular, caught my eye. His hair was a light blonde, and his skin was pale, as though he hadn’t been outside in a while. He was thin, but not so thin as Heero had been. Still, while the other slaves were patient and relaxed, this one tense and would not lift his head.
“How about the little blonde one?” I asked before I could stop myself. The boy looked up at me with such terrified blue eyes that I wished I could stuff the words back in my mouth, but it was too late. Marcel laughed uproariously, then slapped the table.
“I feel almost a little bad about this trade, for you will get the worse end of the stick no matter what. That boy is good only for his hole, useless as soon as he is not filled. Too bad for you, my friend, but bet is a bet,” he said, signaling me to follow him as he turned to leave the restaurant. I hadn’t thought about where the bet would be held, but I wasn’t surprised we were leaving. I wondered what kind of game I had entered.
I glanced at Heero to try to get his opinion about the slave. The boy hadn’t looked like too much trouble, but Marcel was making me think he might be a handful. Heero could only give me a shrug, as he didn’t know any more about the boy than I did. I expected we know more very soon.

Zechs 20
Marcel led me away from what I had come to know as the shopping district and toward a part of the satellite that I had never seen. The halls were long, but the doors were spaced widely apart, and I wondered that would take so much room inside them.
“Your boy, he is fast, no?” Marcel asked as he opened the door.
“He can be quick when he wants to be,” I said as I entered the room.
“That is good,” Marcel said as I got my first look at what appeared to be a long, fairly easy obstacle course. “Because today he will run the gauntlet.”
Of all the things Marcel could have chosen, this was the one I feared most. The gauntlet would meld Heero’s greatest fear with a sense of helplessness that could only be contrived by depriving one of the most vital senses.
“Your slave looks frightened,” Marcel commented as Heero came to my side. I looked at him. His eyes were scared, but as he looked into my eyes I could see a hardening, a trust.
“Just some jitters,” I said, stroking his face, “he’s probably just too excited about the race,” I lied.
“Well, then, I’ll leave you to put your slave into his gear, unless you want one of my pets to help you,” he said smiling with an icy overtone. He wanted that ring, and I wasn’t sure he was above cheating to get it.
“No, it’s fine. What kind of master would I be if I couldn’t care for a single slave?” I asked, smiling back in the same manner. He nodded and walked off to the other side of the room.
I took a moment to get a better grasp on my surroundings. The room was large and bright, giving it something of a warehouse feel. It was almost divided in half, as there was a long track down the middle with two starting gates and evenly spaced barriers down the middle. The track itself was simply a long area of sand, dotted with padded barriers. At first it looked more like a place to play paint-ball than an obstacle course, but remembering that the slaves would be blindfolded and led with a whip added a degree of difficulty to it. I flinched as I realized how little protection the padding would add to the solid barriers if a person were to hit them running at full force. Heero would certainly need a hot bath tonight, regardless of the outcome of the race.
“Master?” Heero called, pulling my attention back. “Could you help me?” he asked. I smiled, as though it was even a question.
I turned around to find that Heero had already stripped and was holding up a type of harness. I had no doubt that it was impossible to put on alone, otherwise he would have already had it on. So stubborn.
I held the harness as Heero stepped in, then pulled it up to watch it cover his crotch in a sort of cup, then extend in straps further up to secure around his shoulders and latch behind his head. It would keep the cup from falling off and potentially damaging Heero, and it was indeed impossible to put on alone. I patted Heero’s shoulder once it was finished and he turned around.
“My hands must be secured,” he said in monotone, telling me just how afraid he truly was. Still, I could do nothing but take the strong fabric from the box on the floor and tie his hands behind him. Once finished with that, I moved on to the gag, which was designed so that it would tie around the head, preventing it from coming off, to serve as both a gag and a mouthpiece, keeping Heero from biting his tongue. I lifted the blindfold, staring Heero deeply in the eyes before putting it on. Only when I could see the fear fading from his eyes did I cover them, and even then it was difficult. Finally, I picked up the small pieces of foam that would block all the sound from Heero’s ears.
“You know that I won’t hurt you,” I whispered softly in his ear. “I need to know that you won’t panic, that you’ll trust me with this,” I said. Heero gulped and nodded. With a deep breath, I put the earplugs in place and turned to see if the competitors were ready.
I looked just in time to see the crowd of slaves part to reveal a very skinny, shaking blond in their middle. He was in his harness and gag, but not his blindfold, and I couldn’t tell about the earplugs, but I assumed they were in. Marcel approached with the blindfold and the boy looked up at him with such terror, such sadness... I never could have done it, but he did without hesitation.
It was no easier to move to the starting line with those eyes covered. The boy tried to struggle away, but the slaves were pitiless, and pulled him to the gate. I guided Heero with two hands on his shoulders, and he went without protest. I might have backed out, otherwise.
The objective was simple; get your slave to the other end of the course first. There was a solid wall of padding at the other end, because they slaves obviously could not tell when the race was over, and the first slave to run into it would win. We were to guide the slaves with whips, meaning that we would have to move with them down the course. We wouldn’t have to move as quickly, though, because of the long reach on the whip. The course was probably less than a hundred yards long, but I doubted it would be over quickly.
As I put Heero at the starting line, I forced myself to block out the other team. Seeing that boy at the mercy of that man... I couldn’t risk the distraction. Instead, I focused on Heero, so when the starting bell rang, I instantly delivered a stinging blow to his rear and he set off like a rocket.
Heero ran so fast out of the gate that I had to jog to keep up, and almost couldn’t direct him away from the first obstacle. It was a block the size of a football player, right in the middle. I raised the whip, and, with the added difficulty of running, accidentally snapped it just above the top of his left shoulder, grazing him instead of giving him a light smack. Heero immediately dodged to the right, and gave me an idea. When the next obstacle came up, I snapped the whip above his left shoulder and, though it didn’t actually hit him, he dove to the left to avoid the blow. I smiled. The race would be much easier to tolerate if I wasn’t forced to actually hit Heero.
We were halfway down the course before I allowed myself to glance at our competitors. They were several feet behind us and, though the other slave was still on his feet, he was having a very difficult time with his breathing. It seemed that he had panicked and was not getting enough air in through his nose to calm himself. His face was bright red and he was gasping horribly as he tried to fill his lungs and run at the same time.
Marcel gave him no quarter. The master’s face was almost as red as the slave’s as he used strong smacks from his whip to almost push the boy down the track. Obviously fed up with the slave, Marcel was literally throwing the boy aside with the whip instead of guiding him, leaving large bruises behind.
I snapped my attention away and managed to turn Heero just in time to keep him from running into another obstacle. His shoulder hit it, though, and he turned slightly away from the center of the course. I let the whip just lightly run down the side of his arm, hoping that he would take the hint and turn just a little, but instead he jumped to the left and ran into the side of a barrier, spinning completely around and landing on his rump.
I came to a stop in front of him. It was bad that he had fallen, as the other boy had yet to fall and was quickly gaining on us, however we still had several yards to our advantage and the last thing we needed to do was panic. My slave was wheezing terribly and I was reminded that it had not been so long ago that he had come to me, half dead with hunger and weak as a kitten. He was pushing himself too hard, and I knew I would have to make him rest soon.
But there was no time for that at present. I could see Heero was jittery as he got to his feet, still facing the wrong way. His face looked lost, as he knew that he was not facing the right direction, but he had no idea what direction he was facing or where to turn. I had to think quickly, how to point him in the right direction with only my whip.
It struck me, then. The rules had said I must use my whip, but not that I must hit him. Quickly, I took the base of the whip and placed it against Heero’s chin. He was tense and uncertain as I used it to push his head around, but he allowed his body to follow. When he was facing the right direction, I gave him a sharp smack to the rear and he was off again.
As I had gotten Heero on his feet, Marcel and his boy had actually gotten ahead of us, but Heero was still faster than the struggling boy. We were neck and neck as we approached the finish line, but Heero quickly pulled ahead, finishing a good six feet ahead of the others.
Heero smacked into the barrier full force and was tossed backward, landing on his behind. He sat there for a moment, stunned, his chest heaving, and managed to give me time to reach him before he decided that the race wasn’t over. Immediately I pulled the gag out of his mouth and was rewarded by the sound of his gasping breath. He sounded winded, but not hurt. As far as I could see, he would only suffer some minor bruising from hitting the barriers and his fall. Next, I untied his hands. He pulled them to the front and rubbed them. I could see faint lines where he had pulled at the cloth, but nothing more.
I was reaching for his blindfold when I heard the thud that told me the other boy had finished the race. I quickly removed the blindfold and earplugs.
“Stay here a moment,” I told him, rising to my feet, “ and catch your breath. I’ll be back,” I said, then turned to the other competitors.

Zechs 21
The sight that greeted me when I turned around was brutal. Marcel, in rage, raised his whip again and hit the blonde slave mercilessly as the boy coward on the floor. There were red welts and cuts all over his back and arms. He was bleeding profusely. His breathing was ragged and had a wet sound to it, and I soon saw that his nose was bleeding, impairing his ability to breathe even more. Marcel raised the whip again and hit the boy with a sharp crack. The boy, terrified and wounded, assumed that he had hit a barrier, and was desperately trying to feel the way around it without the guidance of his master. He frantically felt the surface of the plastic material as he crawled along it on his knees, his hands tied behind his back, trying to find away around it so that he could get away from the pain. Marcel raised the whip again and prepared to bring it down.
My arm caught his in a vicelike grip. I couldn’t remember moving, I was so filled with anger, but somehow I managed to get beside Marcel, towering over him in a rage that I had not often felt.
“That’s enough,” I growled, and Marcel was so stunned by my anger that his own drained away and he dropped the whip. He soon recovered himself and tried to cover his fear by roughly pulling his arm from mine.
“Take the whelp,” he said, “he’s more trouble than he’s worth anyway.” And with that, he went back to his slaves. I was glad, for I was mere inches from doing something I would not regret.
I turned back to the boy, who had curled into a ball on his side and was making the most piteous noises between his wheezes. I knelt beside him an touched his shoulder. He flinched hard, pulling himself into a tighter ball. I would have liked to coax him out of it, but I didn’t have time to be gentle when he was having so much difficulty breathing. Instead I put a hand on his shoulder and one on his knee and forced him to uncurl. He struggled for a moment, but had neither the energy nor the air to fight me, and sagged in exhaustion a moment later.
With him uncurled I was able to reach up and pull the gag from his mouth. It had been tied too tight and had cut into his lips at the corners of his mouth. He gasped deeply as I pulled the gag out, his body contorting as he struggled to fill his lungs with air. He had been chocking and it was difficult for him to catch his breath, so I freed his hands and helped him to his knees. As hard as he had been driven, I was not surprised to see him throw up, his small body heaving as it tried to decide what it needed to do to regulate itself. He wavered and might have fallen over, but I steadied him.
Despite the extra air, the boy was still not getting enough oxygen, or, at least, he didn’t think he was. His breathing came in small, quick gasps and he couldn’t seem to wait long enough to get his lungs completely filled, but he didn’t think the short gasps were enough, either. He was hyperventilating, and would faint if he kept it up, so I removed the earplugs and pulled him against my side.
“Listen to me,” I said, my voice deep and commanding, “I want you to take a deep breath. Take it in. A little more. Good,” I said as he struggled to listen to me. “Now, hold it. Hold. Hold. Now let it out. One, two, three. Now in,” I instructed until he had finally gotten his breathing under control. He would still dissolve into bouts of gasps every once in a while, but I was certain that this was because he was crying harshly and not because he couldn’t breathe.
I tore the sleeve from my shirt, unmindful that it would be expensive to repair, and wiped his face, removing the blindfold as I did. I was glad he had been crying, as he had plowed his face into the sand somewhere on the race. There was sand all over his body, but specifically inside the blindfold, where it could have been pushed into his eyes had he not cried it out. I wiped the blood, sweat, and tears from his face, trying to stop the lethargic bleeding of his nose as I went.
I became aware of Heero sitting next to me on the ground, looking at us with concern.
“Come here,” I told him, signaling for him to lean closer. He flinched a little, I think concerned that he had disobeyed my order to stay, but that was the least of my concerns at the moment. Instead I unsnapped his harness from behind his neck.
“Run and change your clothes,” I ordered, “Go on.”
Heero bolted up to change his clothes as I held the still sobbing boy on my lap. His eyes were open and he stared up at me, his eyes so clear and so blue as they watched me with a dreadful anxiousness.
“It’s alright, little one,” I coaxed as petted the hair away from his face, “You’ll be alright,” I told him, meaning to sooth him. He only lowered his eyes, tears slipping out once again.
Heero returned a moment later and I handed the light youth to him. It was awkward, because they were close in height and Heero had to hold him chest to chest. The blonde’s chin laid on Heero’s shoulder as he brought his legs up to circle Heero’s waist. Any other position would have rubbed his back, which was a mess as it was. Heero, though tired from the race, held his burden carefully and I had no fear that he would drop him.
“Take him back to the room,” I ordered, “Make him comfortable. I will be there momentarily.”
Heero nodded and set off, taking the sobbing boy with him. I sighed. It would take a lot to make the boy well, and even more to get him over the trauma this scene had caused.
Manners dictated that I would have a parting word with Marcel and, though I would have rather bite my own thumb, I went over to speak with the man.
“I suppose I got a little... carried away with the pet, eh?” he asked, smiling as he capitulated. “Perhaps you would rather another of my pets?” he said, waving his hand toward the group again.
“No,” I replied stonily, “I have the one I wanted.”
“Eh,” he said nervously. I think perhaps he thought I was angry that he had damaged my property, thus giving me a bad deal, and that I would no longer bet with him in the future. Hoping to put aside our conflict, he said, “Perhaps you don’t like any of my pets, but what about the Duke’s? He has some magnificent pets, and he owes me one from a card game. I’ll give it to you. Friday, at the dinning hall. I’ll send invitation. Introduce you to him. What you say?” he asked. I was hesitant to take another slave from this man, after the treatment the other had received. Also, I knew if he was offering the slave for free it would be useless, a toy instead of a tool, and I only needed slaves for Collar, not for pleasure. Still, I was so anxious to get back to the little blonde slave and I needed as many allies as I could get, so I nodded, hoping to speed up our parting and keep from having a feud with another master.
“Wonderful!” he shouted, clapping his hands. “I’ll send the invitation soon.”
“I really must be going now, then,” I told him, and with a curt nod left the room, hastily making my way back to my room, hoping both my slaves were alright.

Zechs 22
I arrived at the room only a few minutes after the other two had arrived. I found them seated on the couch. Or, actually, Heero was seated on the couch, and the blonde slave was draped across his lap. Heero had laid a towel over the boy’s back, but, other than that, seemed at a loss for what to do.
“How’s he doing?” I asked as I crossed the room, startling the blonde, who gasped and shied into Heero’s embrace.
“I... don’t know. He needs stitches, I think. His name is Quatre,” Heero told me. The boy, Quatre, gave him a hurt glare, as though his name was a secret.
“I could have found out from you papers,” I told him. Quatre looked at me, frightened, then dissolved into tears once again. “What happened?” I asked, surprised by his sudden outburst.
“He’s been doing that since we got here. I think it’s because of his back,” Heero told me softly, looking at the boy in his arms with concern and pity.
“I’ll have to take a look,” I said, “Lay him down flat on the couch for me, would you? Then run and get some more towels,” I ordered. Heero was quick to obey, cautiously slipping out from under the lighter boy. The movement jarred Quatre, and he cried out a bit, but was otherwise silent except for the small sobs as he cried.
“How do you feel?” I asked as Heero went for the towels. The boy would only shake his head, never looking at me. I took his chin in my hand and forced his head up, looking into his eyes. “I know you’re hurting, but you have to work with me. I’m trying to help you. Now, I know your back hurts, and I know what’s wrong with it, so I’ll leave that alone for right now. Does anything else hurt?”
“M-my ankle,” Quatre said, once again letting his eyes lower away from mine, “and my nose. But... my back...” he dissolved into tears again, “... it hurts so bad!” he cried, tears beginning to flow more rapidly.
“Shh,” I cooed. “I know. Just hold on a little longer, alright?”
By this time, Heero had returned with the towels. I could see that Quatre had given himself a nasty bruise on his nose and probably a black eye, but he hadn’t broken anything on his face, so there was nothing I could do for it. Instead, I worked my way down to his ankle, which was swollen and looked sprained, but wasn’t bad enough to be broken. I sent Heero for some ice, placing a pack on Quatre’s ankle and one on his face when Heero returned. Then I asked Heero to hold Quatre’s hands while I peeled away the towel.
I had known the boy was going to scream. He was in too much pain not to, and I wasn’t going to aggravate the cuts on his lips by gagging him or some such nonsense. I think, though, that he thought I would, because after the initial scream he bit down hard on his bottom lip to quiet himself.
“Stop that,” I snapped, “I have enough holes in your skin that I need to fix without you adding more. Scream if you need to, I don’t care.”
After that, he screamed, and clung to Heero’s hands, and shook his head, and kicked his feet, but remained where I needed him to be as I peeled the towel from his bleeding skin. The wounds underneath were bleeding sluggishly, his skin bright red from blood and aggravated by the sand in his wounds. It would be difficult to clean this mess and patch it up. There were three main wounds, all about eight inches long. One went diagonally from his left shoulder to his right side. Another went from his right side up to the middle of his back. The third went from his left shoulder slightly downward to his right shoulder. There was a hodgepodge of other cuts, welts, and bruises, but nothing more serious than some heavy bruising. These were the only three that would need stitches, but they were enough. I also had to contend with the sand, which meant that I would have to bathe the boy before I could even begin to clean the cuts.
“Heero, I want you to run to the pharmacy. You know where that is, right? Take my card and buy bandages, gauze, tape, antiseptic, needles, thread, and any kind of pain pills you can find. See if they have some mild antibiotics that won’t react to the painkillers. Mild tranquilizers, too, but get the strongest painkillers they have. See if they have any scar-prevention creams. And rubber gloves, I’ll need a set of those,” I told him, thinking out loud of what I’d need. “Put everything on my card, don’t worry about the cost. Well? Get going!” I snapped, and he darted to get my card then out the door.
I turned back to Quatre to find him staring a the door like a puppy who’d been left behind for the first time. There was such longing in his eyes that I wondered how the two had bonded so quickly, then his eyes turned on me, and there was such a flash of panic that I understood the situation. He had hoped Heero would protect him from me, or, at least, that I would be gentler to him around the other slave. He was afraid of me and, from his last master, I could understand why.
“Can you stand?” I asked softly, brushing the hair from his eyes. He felt warm, and I hoped he hadn’t gotten a fever already.
“I think so, master,” he said, barely above a whisper, then attempted to get up. I stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
“Lie still for now,” I told him, “I’ll need you to get up in a little, but there’s no use jumping the gun. Rest a moment, there’s something I have to attend to. If you need me, I’ll just be in the other room,” I told him. He nodded, but I doubted he’d let himself call for me. I gave his head one last pat, then stood and walked to the bathroom.
More than anything, I wanted to give the boy a moment to collect himself and orient himself to this quickly changing situation. Now that Heero was gone, he was alone with me, a man he feared greatly. I could only hope his fear would keep him docile and allow me to work without causing him too much stress.
In the bathroom, I quickly turned the faucet to a cool temperature and ran a few inches of water, just enough to cool the boy down. I then ran a little of the water through the detachable shower head, so that the water would not be cold when it came out. Then there was nothing left to do but return and hope the boy had calmed.
My hopes were in vain. I returned to find Quatre sobbing harshly into the pillow, his slim shoulders shaking at the force of his pain. I approached the boy quietly and ran my hand along his side to alert him of my presence. Quatre jerked in surprise, whipping his head around to see me.
“Come now, it’s time for you to get up,” I instructed. Quatre nodded mutely and forced his skinny arms to push his torso off the couch, then brought his knees under him. He cried out in pain as the movement caused the skin of his back to stretch, but continued his progress. When he was on his knees, I was able to take a hold of his arms and lift him to his feet.
Quatre swayed, dizzy from fatigue and blood loss, but managed to stay on his feet with my support. I led him to the bathroom, going slowly as each step seemed painful for him. Once there I unbuckled his harness, which I had left on before, and let it drop to the floor. Quatre stared at his feet, his face going bright red as he bit his lip in nervousness.
“I need you to get in the tub,” I told him. He did so, hesitantly, clinging to me for support as his body trembled, weak and tired. Once in he fell to his knees, then leaned forward, supporting himself on his hands. His arms shook as they held him, then gave out a minute later. With a startled cry he began to fall forward, but I was quick to catch him. I let him down slowly, murmuring that he should extend his legs as well. He lay bonelessly when I was finished, too tired to protest as I turned the water on and began to wash the sand away using the hose.
I was relieved to find that the sand came out of his wounds fairly easily, as the blood washed much of it out as the water made the cuts bleed anew. I was also sure to wash the sand out of his hair and face, but I couldn’t use soap because it would sting his cuts. He would need a proper bath at some point, but he couldn’t get one until he’d healed a bit.
I allowed the water to drain away, still washing sand off Quatre’s body so that none of it would stay to bother his skin. The boy seemed almost asleep, but the crease in his forehead told me he was still awake. It might have been better had he gone to sleep, for I had to touch him to brush the sand off, and he tensed when I rubbed his rear or his groin, even though I was helping him.
I finished quickly and pulled him back to his knees. He seemed less shaky now that he had cooled off some and I was able to pat him dry without him falling. From there, I pulled him back to his feet and we hobbled out of the room again.
I know Quatre would have liked nothing better than to return to the couch, but, sadly, I couldn’t let him do that. I knew he would be difficult to move when I got him settled again and I needed to put him somewhere with good light and a flat surface, so that I could work on his back. Unfortunately, the only place that met those standards was the kitchen table.
Quatre was docile as I led him out of the bathroom, but baulked when I led him to the kitchen instead of the livingroom.
“Master...” he whispered in protest as I turned him, his eyes looking longingly at the couch. He stared gloomily at the kitchen as we approached, a new set of tears falling down his face. We stopped in front of the table, which was made of metal and looked more like a surgical bench than I originally realized. Still, it was strong enough to support the light boy, and that was all that really mattered.
“Up,” I commanded softly. Quatre stared at me, shocked and appalled as he began to shake.
“Master... I can’t,” he whispered.
“Yes, you can,” I told him. “Don’t be afraid, just do it.”
He nodded, though I could tell that he didn’t want to, and stepped up on the chair I had pulled out. Moving like he was a hundred time his age, he slowly got himself onto the table and lay down. Once he was completely seated, he buried his face in his arms and began to cry again.
I left him on the table alone as I went to fetch him a blanket and a pillow. I didn’t want to humiliate him, or make him uncomfortable, or even cold, but I knew that he wouldn’t hear any of the explanations I gave right then, so I kept my silence as I covered him up. He was grateful for the blanket and surprised by my actions, but there was still a lingering mistrust in his mind that I doubted I would put aside any time soon.

Zechs 23
Heero returned minutes later, carrying four heavy brown bags of medical supplies with him. He was surprised to find us in the kitchen, but I could see that he understood my reasoning. We emptied the bags on the counter and I found that Heero had done a very good job in purchasing what I would need. As far as I could see, there was nothing I needed that I did not have, and a few things I didn’t need that I had suddenly gained. I even found a bottle of instant-numb spray, something I had wished for but hadn’t dreamed of getting.
“Heero, this is great! How did you find all this stuff?” I asked. Heero blushed.
“I told the pharmacist what had happened. She advised me on what to buy,” he told me, smiling slightly at the comment. Then, suddenly, his attitude changed and he became nervous and worried once again. “Master,” Heero whispered quietly beside me as I read the label of the tranquilizers he had bought. “I... I think we should take him to the hospital. I know it seems weak, but...”
“No, Heero, and that’s final,” I told him before I would allow myself to reconsider.
“The slave hospital is the best there is, master. And it is free...” he protested. I could see how worried he was about the other slave, and I had no doubts this situation would remind him of his own past, but I couldn’t afford to allow the other masters to see me as weak.
“And I will not be permitted to see him until the doctor gives clearance. He’s better off here, Heero.”
“Master, please, I... I can’t use any of this stuff! I’m not trained!” he whispered harshly.
“Well, then,” I said, filling a syringe with a smooth and practiced motion, “you had better watch me very carefully, because you should really know this kind of stuff,” I told him with a smirk. He gaped at me, realizing now that I had never meant for him to treat Quatre. I had several years of training as a field medic under my belt due to regulation classes at Preventers. While Quatre’s wounds were a bit tougher than what I’d handled before, I had no doubt that I could keep them from being life-threatening. I knew that he would do better at the hospital, where they had the equipment and staff to care for him, but I couldn’t compromise the mission for that as long as I was able to do the work myself. Obviously, I would send the boy to the hospital if he became dangerously ill, but I hoped that I could keep it from coming to that.
“Quatre,” I said, moving to stand over the boy and rubbing his shoulder with a cotton ball of alcohol, “You’re going to feel a little prick now, alright? I want you to try not to jump,” I told him, my voice strong and clear to make sure he understood. He nodded and I brought the needle down to prick him. He flinched, but held still as I injected him, holding tightly onto the table with both hands until I removed the needle and wiped the small spot of blood away. “There,” I said gently, “That wasn’t so bad, was it? You should start to feel a little sleepy soon, but it’s not enough to put you out, alright? I’m just trying to take the edge off,” I told him. He nodded, and I could already see his body begin to relax as I set up my tools. When I was sure the drug had kicked in, I pulled the sheet back to expose Quatre’s shoulders and back, leaving it over his legs.
“Heero,” I said softly, motioning for the boy to come closer, “I want you to hold Quatre’s legs down while I work. This shouldn’t hurt him, but it may be uncomfortable and it is vital he doesn’t move while I’m working.”
Heero gulped, looking somewhat pale, then nodded and settled some of his weight on Quatre’s legs. The boy stirred, but didn’t protest, telling me he was far enough gone fore me to begin.
“Quatre this is going to feel cold,” I warned, lifting the bottle of numbing liquid. I knew how strong that particular brand was, so I used it sparingly. I certainly gave him enough to take the pain away, but I didn’t want him to lose feeling to his back, which this medicine could cause when overused.
“Quatre? I need you to listen to me now. I’m going to start, and I know this is going to hurt, but you can’t move. I don’t want you to have too many painkillers, but if you start to feel like you can’t take it, tell me and I’ll give you some more. Whatever you do, don’t move, alright? Here we go.”
Regardless of everything I did, there was no way I could completely remove all the pain and keep Quatre on this side of consciousness. He moaned, groaned, and sweated through my stitching of the first cut, crying when he had the strength. On the second cut he began to thrash his head, but still stayed quiet.
Halfway through the second cut, Quatre suddenly decided he couldn’t take any more and attempted to sit up. This was not a good idea, not only because he was drugged and bleeding, but also because I had a needle halfway through his flesh. He was lucky that so much of his strength was sapped, so that I was able to force him back down to the table with one hand, otherwise I probably would have been fishing in his back for the needle.
“Quatre, stay still!” I growled, pushing him back to the table. His strength gave out and he fell back to the bed with a harsh sob, crying pitifully while I refilled syringe and gave him another dose of the painkillers.
The second dose was enough that, luckily, he didn’t have a repeat performance. I was able to finish stitching the boy up and warp his wounds then, while the painkillers were still working, Heero and I managed to carry him into the bedroom so he could sleep.
From there, I sent Heero to get a hot shower and I called for dinner for the both of us. It was a quiet affair, as we were both exhausted. When we finished dinner, I had Heero go make up the servants beds, as I had decided we should sleep in there instead of disturbing Quatre. While Heero did that, I went to check on Quatre only to find him shivering. I quickly checked his temperature and, finding it normal, decided that it must be a side effect of the drugs we had given him.
Heero came to join us a minute later and, ever wary of Quatre’s wounds, I slid under the blankets beside him, then motioned for Heero to slide in beside me. He did so without complaint, though I could see he was confused in the sudden change of sleeping arrangements. When Quatre, seeking warmth even in his slumber, crawled onto me, he seemed to understand that I felt we needed to warm the boy up, not to mention keep a closer eye on him. He began sobbing quietly soon, but there was nothing I could do but rub his shoulder gently and try to make him understand that we were trying to help him, despite how much pain we had caused. Then I let him cry it out, both because I knew he needed to and because there was really nothing I could do. After all the pain he had gone through today, he deserved a good cry.
So, with Quatre huddled on his stomach on my left arm and Heero curled in the embrace of my right, I soon drifted to sleep, my first slave and now my second slumbering peacefully beside me.

Quatre 24
It was warm when I finally woke up. I had felt so cold at the beginning of the night, but when I woke up I felt almost a bit too warm. My throat was parched and I was desperate for a drink of water. I hoped that the other slave, Heero was around. I didn’t think I could get it myself and I hoped he’d do me this favor. I’d do whatever I needed to repay him later, but I was so thirsty.
There was a body under me that I could not identify. I tensed when I realized it, but it seemed futile, since I had obviously been resting on it all night, so I quickly gave up an relaxed. I assumed that the body must be Heero’s, for he was the only one who would have any reason to stay with me. I wondered if the master had asked him to take care of me, or if he was just kind. I hoped it was the latter, but I was leaning toward the former. I was competition, and I had learned well with my last master how cruel people can be in defending their place from a competitor.
“Heero,” I whispered, my voice raspy, “Heero, please, I really need a drink of water. I’m sorry for being so much trouble, but...”
He grunted something beneath me, I think only half awake, then eased himself out from beneath me and stood up, stumbling out of the room. It was a little cooler without him, but I missed being close to him the moment he was gone. I had been isolated for so long, and now it seemed that I craved the touch of another human.
When my new master had walked down the line up, I had never dreamed he would pick me. I hadn’t wanted him to pick me, because I knew how vicious master Marcel could be with a whip, but in some ways I did, if only to validate that I was still alive, that someone else could see me. Master Marcel’s other slaves had never truly abused me, for that was master’s job, but they had pushed me, or bullied me, or laughed at me, or stole from me, or lied to me, or anything else they could do. But what truly hurt was when they ignored me. I had to watch the bond many of them shared as slaves, unable to get in but unable to leave. It had hurt me deeply, because I had fed on the love and good feelings of others, and depriving me of love was like depriving me of food. I ate and ate, but inside something ate away at me. I withered, became weak, and then was forced through that terrible gauntlet.
Heero returned and I could hear the water swishing in the glass as he approached. It made me want it even more and I tried to sit up, but the pain was too great and I fell back down. As long as I laid still, the pain faded to a terrible ache, but trying to move made it flare up again, and I wasn’t sure how I would manage the drink.
Heero flipped the lights on and I was temporarily blinded by the light, so I buried by face in the pillow to escape the harsh light. Behind me, I could hear Heero as he moved, then I felt as he sat down on the bed beside me.
“Come on,” he said, and his voice was strange, deeper than I remembered it.
I looked up to find myself staring at the blonde-haired master who had won me the day before. A master that I had just ordered around like a slave.
I heard a pained whimper and realized halfway through that it was coming from me. I tried to stop it, but failed, so I buried my face in the pillow once again, hoping to silence myself.
“Stop that now,” my master commanded, holding my chin as he forced my head up, “You can’t very well drink like that.”
I flinched as he brought the cup to my face, but I was so thirsty that my body overcame my fear and I latched onto the straw, sucking down the cool liquid as fast as I could, half afraid it would be taken away.
“Slow down,” master chided, “you’ll make yourself sick,” he said, pulling the glass away. I whimpered, still thirsty even though my stomach felt uncomfortably sloshy. “Just wait a moment,” master ordered, and held the cup out of my reach.
“Please,” I whimpered, “just a little more...”
“You could have as much as you like, if you’d just slow down,” master said sternly, but returned the cup anyway. I attempted to obey him and was rewarded when he let me finish the rest of the glass.
He took the glass back then and I let my head fall back to the pillow, exhausted by that small movement. Master put his hand on my head and I couldn’t bring myself to move, but I flinched hard when he leaned down and gave my forehead a lingering kiss.
“M-master?” I questioned, feeling my body already begin to betray my fear with shivers. With my back like it was, and helpless as I was, if he decided to... to..
“I think you have a slight fever, but I can’t really tell,” he said, “Do you feel hot?”
“A-a little,” I mumbled, so terribly relieved that he hadn’t been doing... what I thought he was doing. I jumped as master snapped the comforter to the bottom of the bed, leaving only a lighter blanket. He then leaned over me and checked the clock sitting on the other side of the bed. He seemed satisfied with it, because he slid back under the covers next to me.
I half expected and half wanted him to pull me into his arms, because it felt so good when I thought he was Heero. But I was still afraid of him, and probably would have baulked, so it might be better that he didn’t instead settling for lying with his side an inch or so away from mine. It helped that I could feel the heat of his skin, but I still craved the warmth of another person.
“Master?” I asked.
“Yes?”
“W-what’s going on?”
“It’s nothing to worry about. I’m just being your typical, lazy master,” he said with a smile that I thought was sincere, but I wasn’t sure, “and lounging around with a pretty boy,” he said, and it sounded like he was teasing, which I was grateful for. “Heero and I have a party later, so I think I’ll catch a little more sleep, alright? Heero wanted to train this morning, though I said he could skip, so he’ll be back in an hour or two. Try to get some sleep, and tell me if you start to feel sick, alright?” he asked, and I nodded though there were tears in my eyes. “Quatre? Baby, what’s wrong?”
I shook my head. I didn’t want to answer, because I knew my master wouldn’t like what I had to say. I was a stupid slave, always whimpering and crying. This master had done nothing but help me, but I couldn’t read him with the space between us, and I couldn’t stand not knowing if he would hurt me or not.
I sobbed violently and master carefully pulled me onto his chest, slow to make sure he didn’t hurt me. I sobbed against his shoulder as he ran his fingers through my hair, trying to calm me. There was only concern within him, loud and ringing, as I let his motions fill me. There was no mask to this, no hidden agenda. He was honest and caring and gentle and I knew I didn’t deserve him but I wanted him so badly. I wanted that caring and concern. I needed to feel that the world wasn’t a poisonous place, but who would keep a disloyal, whiney, overemotional slave like me? I couldn’t even keep myself from bawling all over my new master! He was going to throw me away at his first chance. I knew it and it made me cry all the harder. I cried so hard I think I might have passed out.

Heero 25
We had breakfast in the bedroom when I returned. It was difficult for Quatre, because the only way he could sit up without hurting himself was to kneel with his legs underneath him, keeping his back straight. He had a hard time with it, and tired very quickly, only finishing the toast and some orange juice before he had to lay back down.
Master wanted to check Quatre’s stitches after than, so he pulled down the blanket and pulled off the large pieces of gauze we had taped over top. He seemed pleased with the upper two, but the lower one was just the slightest bit red and swollen. Master made us douse it with some kind of liquid that burned Quatre, who started crying again, then forced some more pills into Quatre, who was frightened and didn’t want them. Master tried to tell him that it was alright and that we weren’t trying to hurt him, but Quatre was beyond listening, and eventually I had to hold him down while master forced the pills into him. Master tried again to calm the frightened boy, but he was too skittish, and master eventually said he wanted to go out and left the two of us alone.
“Hey,” I said when master had left, “Do you need something?” I asked the sobbing boy. He shook his head vigorously, but cried all the harder. “I can get you something, if you need it. Master said the medicine should start to kick in soon, and that you’d feel better. Is it your back?” I asked, hoping I didn’t need to go get master. The boy shook his head again. “Then what’s wrong?”
“I-I don-don’t want to b-be s-s-sold! I’m such a-an i-in-inconvenience! I c-c-can’t d-do anything!”
“You’re sick,” I pointed out, gently rubbing his shoulder, “No one’s going to hold it against you.”
“No?” he sniffled, looking up at me with teary eyes, “Other masters would.”
“Master Zechs isn’t like that,” I said, remembering how hard it was for me to believe. The boy shook his head and started crying again. “Quatre?”
“It’s just... once he knows.... I’ve always... always been useless. Master Marcel was kind to keep me. I don’t know if Master Zechs will be so lenient. I’m just... useless,” he whispered harshly.
“Master Marcel was anything but kind to you,” I growled. “Don’t you dare compare him to Master Zechs. After all the effort master has put into you, do you really think he would just get rid of you?”
The boy sniffled some more, then said softly, “I don’t understand him, or what he wants. I’m not a Collar slave. There’s nothing I’m trained to compete in, so what does he want?”
“Maybe he just wants to see you better. Maybe he thinks you’d make a good companion. I don’t know what master thinks, but I do know that he cares about you. You don’t need to fear him, he’s only trying to help.”
“What about you?” he whispered softly, the tears stopped but his face forlorn, “Aren’t I competition for the master’s favors? Why are you being so kind to me?”
“I...” I said, then paused to think out the answer that I could already feel, “I don’t think master Zechs will forget me, just because he has you. He might have less time with me, but he won’t abandon me. I can feel that, and I trust it. And I don’t think that I have the right to keep him all to myself, either. And I think you need him, too.”
“How... how can you be so sure?” he asked. His eyelids were fluttering and he lowered his head to the pillow. I could tell he was falling asleep.
“You’ll feel it, soon enough. There’s just something about master Zechs. Something deeper and stronger than the other masters. It makes you want to help him, want to work with him. I can’t explain it, but you’ll feel it soon, too.”
“I think,” he whispered, his eyes sliding shut, “I already do.”
Master Zechs returned in an hour and I found out that he had gone to the pool to cool off and relieve some stress with a swim. I told master what Quatre had said, and he told me that he had guessed it was something like that. He promised to talk to him when the other slave gained a little strength.
We woke Quatre only to feed him lunch and give him more medicine, and he slept the rest of the day. Master wanted my help deciding what to wear to Master Scrub’s party, and we had slept for a lot of the day anyway, so it might have been for the best. Master worried a lot about Quatre, especially when we had to leave for Master Scrub’s party.
Quatre had a mild fever and master didn’t really want to leave him alone, but there was no one to be trusted watching him. We couldn’t miss the party, so he eventually set the phone beside the bed with Mater Scrub’s number on speed dial and told Quatre that if he needed anything he was to call the party. I doubted Quatre would be that brave, even if his shoulder began to bleed onto the bed. Master made sure he had used the bathroom, which we had to use a bottle for and took the both of us to handle as Quatre could neither turn over nor support himself. I was glad master was so kind, because other masters would not have assisted in such a lowly task and I needed master’s help. He even left a gallon of sport drink beside the bed, worrying that Quatre would get dehydrated in the few hours we were gone. Quatre had already eaten and taken a strong dose of medicine, so I expected that he would sleep while we were gone. It managed to lessen master’s worry, but didn’t completely erase it. Still, I couldn’t begrudge Quatre master’s concern, I had fed on it myself my first few days with Master Zechs. Still, it hurt to no longer be the only one receiving master’s care, but master still gave me plenty of attention, which took the sting away.
Knowing that I was still master’s only helped to keep me strong while master dotted on Quatre. He needed my help at Master Scrub’s party, which we left to attend later that night.
I had been to two of Master Scrub’s parties, so I knew vaguely what to expect, and I knew that it would probably shock Master Zechs. They were tamer than some of the other parties I had attended, but... kinkier. A lot kinkier. It was strange, and I hadn’t liked it. I didn’t expect to this time, but I would suffer through it. Master Zechs would need a good reputation to find better slaves, and he couldn’t get that without attending the parties.
The outfit I helped master choose was a simple, elegant suit, because it was casual with style and would be easy to get out of. I wore my long cape draped modestly over my shoulders and a pair of skintight black-leather shorts master had bought for me. I, too, wanted to be able to easily slip in and out of my clothes, as I new the party would provide costumes for both master and me.
We set out at about eleven, wanting to be on time, which was considered early, out of respect for Master Scrub and to have some extra time with the other masters and slaves. We were, indeed, early for the party and spent a few minutes waiting in a small parlor while the preparations were finished. I doubted that this was an accident, as it allowed the newer master, who would invariably show up first, a little time to speak with each other and Master Scrub.
“Have you heard anything about my little party yet?” Master Scrub asked Master Zechs casually as he stopped to talk in the parlor. It was then that I relived that, with all the time and worry I had dedicated to Quatre, I had forgotten to explain the party to Master Zechs.
“No, I’m afraid I’m quite unprepared,” master said, laughing. Master Scrub smirked, and I realized that he was pleased that he would surprise my master. I realized I could possibly damage relations between them if I told my master about the party. We needed Master Scrub’s favors, so I could only hope that Master Zechs was ready for this, and that he wasn’t too mad when it was over.
“Well then, you’re in for quite a shock,” he said, smiling teasingly, “I’ll give you a hint, my parties always have a theme, and it directly relates to my name,” he said, then was off. Master Scrub was just like that.
The slaves came in a moment later to escort the masters away from their slaves so that they could help everyone with their costumes. Zechs gave my hand a reassuring squeeze to my hand as we parted, but I think it might have been as much for him as me.
I followed one of the slaves down a short hall and was immediately admitted to a small, white room where two other slaves stood. There was only a large chair in the room, along with a small table, a strange looking set of shiny metal tools sitting on it, a blue tub of what seemed to be Vaseline, and a white box.
“Do you know what to do?” asked one of the slaves. I nodded and removed my clothes, then sat down on the chair and spread my legs.
The two knew what they were doing, as I had expected from a pair of Master Scrub’s slaves. I let my hands clutch the sides of the chair as one of the slaves leaned down and held my shaft, keeping it completely straight in a firm but not painful grip. I knew that no one was trying to hurt me, but from experience I knew this would be unpleasant.
The other slave wasted no time. He immediately opened the white box and pulled out what appeared to be a three inch piece of straw, but I knew otherwise. At the base of the straw there was a round ring made of metal and covered in red rubber about the size of the straw, and at the top there was just a hint of more red rubber. The slave took a dab of Vaseline on his finger and rubbed it around the ring, then knelt before me. I sucked in a breath and grit my teeth.
The slave quickly took the straw and stabbed it into my urethra about an inch. I wiggled and squirmed, but I was aware of just how much damage struggling could do at this particular moment, so remained seated. It was over quickly, and the slave pulled the straw back out, leaving the red ring inside and revealing a red party balloon.
The balloon remained where it was, partially inside me, as I stood and prepared to leave. The slaves helped me put on a light green hospital gown, only this one was open in both the front and the back, then sent me on my way.
As I stepped out of the door, I could only hope Master Zechs was ready for this.

Zechs 26
I wasn’t angry at Heero for forgetting to tell me about the party. After all, with all the care he had given to Quatre, and his training, and helping me, it was easy to see how the boy could forget something. However, when we were split up and I suddenly found myself donning a white lab coat along with rubber gloves and a legitimate stethoscope I will admit that I was... annoyed. Highly annoyed.
This feeling, however, was nothing compared to what I felt when I walked out to find Heero dressed in what amounted to two large sheets of paper with a deflated balloon floating in front of his groin. I glanced again.
There was a balloon sticking out of his penis!
A balloon inside his penis!
IN his PENIS!
There is no way to describe to you just how shocked I was. If you can’t comprehend my amount of shock you have never been through this particular scenario, and thus you are normal. If you can comprehend my amount of shock and you have been through this scenario, then you are a sick, twisted bastard and should be shot. At least, that’s how I felt. I was, literally, ready to shoot someone.
“Master, please don’t be mad,” Heero mumbled as he approached me, his head bowed in supplication. I wasn’t mad at him, though, not really. It wasn’t his fault, because I knew that he had no right to protest his treatment here, and thus could not fight anything they did to him.
“What happened?” I ground out in a low growl, painfully aware of the people around us who were, thankfully, not paying any attention as I pulled my slave into a semi-secluded corner.
“Nothing,” he protested innocently, “It’s part of my costume. I’m sorry I didn’t...”
“Did they hurt you?”
“What?”
“Did they hurt you? Putting that in, did they hurt you?”
“N-no,” Heero replied, shaken by my anger, “It... It’s not comfortable... but it doesn’t hurt. I-... I’ve worn them before, so...”
“Is there something wrong?” came a new voice from behind us. I turned to see Master Scrub, in the same outfit as I was in, with a slave dressed very similarly to Heero. Great, I thought sarcastically, perfect timing.
“I was just a little shocked by this addition to my slaves wardrobe and concerned with the safety of it,” I said politely, biting down on the growl that wanted to come out.
“Oh, I can assure you that it’s perfectly safe,” replied Scrub, “Honestly, I had the same reaction when I first saw these things, but if you’ll come this way I can show you that it’s safe,” he said, moving off toward a small table. I hadn’t had time to really notice the room before, but now I found that it was a small, warmly lit room with a few sofas and a large diningroom table. Most of the other masters had left this room for what I assumed was the main room, and the others were busy with their slaves on the couch. Master Scrub led his slave over to the table, then pulled out a chair and helped the small, black-haired youth sit on the table.
“As you can see,” Scrub said, holding up his unperturbed slave’s balloon, “there’s an area here that is thinner than the rest, so that if the balloon does become overfilled it will pop outside the slave’s body instead of inside, which could injure the slave. If it does pop or somehow get torn inside, there is a metal ring at the bottom, which helps to keep it open and allows the slave’s seed to travel into the balloon. We simply insert a long, thin magnet into the penis and remove the rest of the balloon, easy. You see, it’s very safe. And the balloon will actually dissolve in a few days because of body heat if a piece were to accidentally remain inside, but it’s safer not to wait for that.”
“I’m sure it’s perfectly safe,” I said testily, though I was certainly not sure it was perfectly safe, “but I’m more upset that so many liberties were taken with my slave without my knowledge.”
Master Scrub laughed heartily, “Don’t be too upset. I was hoping your little slave wouldn’t say anything. I enjoy a good trick every now and again. Besides, no one wants to hurt your little one. Now, head on to the party and try not to stay mad. I’m sure you’ll find my theme to be most appropriate. This party will test your control over your slave,” Scrub said, lifting his slave’s head and kissing the unresisting lips, “how much will your slave let you do before he struggles, eh? It’s all about how much your little one will bend, and how far you can bend him. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment that I simply must keep,” he said, then walked through the curtains, leading his slave by the arm.
I contemplated, just for a minute, walking out of the party. I though about how much my reputation would suffer, then weighed it against how good it would feel to storm away in a huff. The tally told me that it wasn’t worth it. Decking Master Scrub, however, looked a lot more inviting, but by that time Heero was tugging on my sleeve. I huffed, then led Heero through the curtains. For better or worse, we were going to the party. I just hoped there weren’t any more surprises.

Heero 27
Master was still angry, I noted as I entered the party. I felt like crying, but I would not humiliate master by doing such a thing when I had already angered him so much. Instead, I bit my lip and stared at the floor as I walked, like a good slave.
The inside of the party room was as I remembered it. The walls and floors were stark white, and anything else was a pale, hospital green. Long green draperies hung in a circular patter from the ceiling, creating a sort of tent-room. It gave privacy and set apart each station, while still allowing it to be one room. The little green stations dotted the giant hall like a gypsy camp in the south pole. Usually, a master and a slave would enter one of these tents, only to emerge several minutes later. Sometimes, though, it would be two slaves, or two masters, or a whole group.
“Heero,” master called me softly, and I knew it was serious because he used my real name.
“Yes?” I asked, slumping my shoulders in submission.
“Stop that,” master snapped in annoyance. He always hated when I reverted to my slave ways, but in my guilt I had forgotten. I righted myself and looked at his face, but couldn’t meet his eyes.
“I’m sorry, master,” I whispered.
“Well, that’s the problem,” he said, leading me toward the wall, where he backed me up until his body almost concealed me from sight. “I am upset that you didn’t prepare me for this party, and we will speak about it when we get home. However, I know how much you’ve been doing with Quatre, so I understand. That doesn’t excuse it, but I understand. Now, what I need you to do is forget everything else and lead me through this party, do you understand? We can’t screw this up,” he said. I nodded. Master was right, I needed to get my head out of my ass and turn the night around. The earlier encounter with Master Scrub may have made the master look weak, but if he became dominant and had a good time at the party Master Scrub might see him as possessive instead. That was much better than being weak. Also, if I could show him a good time, maybe master would forgive me for messing the party up in the first place.
With that in mind, I pointed I pointed to one of the tents that had an open doorway with a small sign over the door that read, “Internal probing.” Swallowing a lump in my throat, I pointed to the door.
“That one,” I whispered, “We need to show them that we’re... that you’re not afraid to use m-... to use your slave,” I told him. He frowned, his lips compressing, but nodded and led me to the tent.
The tent was small and enclosed, and the curtain dropped as we entered, signaling that the tent was occupied. I knew we would not be bothered, and that the cloth was heavy enough to prevent all but the loudest of moans from being heard. There was a single light in the room, throwing a bright, stark light through all of the room, so that there were no shadows to hide in. It was supposed to mimic a doctor’s office, and did a fairly convincing job.
In the center of the room was a chair, almost like a dentist’s chair. I will assume that it is the same kind of chair a gynecologist would use, but I can’t say this from experience. In any case, the chair was large and intimidating, with stirrups hanging at the bottom to force the slave’s legs high and apart. Only, unlike a gynecologist, this chair was equipped with arm restraints, and the stirrups could be snapped so that the slave could not break free. Beside the chair was a tray and some equipment.
“They monitor these rooms,” I told him, pointing upward at the small, inconspicuous black box beside the light, “incase something should happen. Master Scrub will probably watch the video later, so we need to make this look realistic, but there’s no sound, so we can say whatever we want. The instruments are for us to use as toys,” I told master, swallowing nervously again, “the chair is for... I mean, I get in and...”
“I understand,” said master, no expression on his face. “Get in.”
I gulped as I climbed into the chair, glancing at the tray beside the chair and the long, thick, plastic instruments it held until master locked a restraining piece of soft plastic across my forehead, holding my head down and preventing me from viewing what he would do between my legs. I could see his shoulders and above between my legs, but I could not move forward to see what he was doing below that. I was completely vulnerable, and would have no warning to what master would do.
Master locked my arms and my feet down, my anxiousness increasing as he did. He was angry with me, and I was completely restrained. In my best of days, I abhor being locked down, and I was beginning to feel the icy tingle of panic in my stomach. When the chair suddenly tipped back, I couldn’t help but let out a fearful yelp.
I was afraid that master would be even more angry, for I had already done so much wrong that night, but instead he came around to the top of the chair and gave me a passionate kiss. It was deep, and gentle, and as caring as it had always been, but when he was finished he returned to getting me seated without a word. I was confused, as master always gave me some kind of direction or encouragement, but I didn’t dare to say anything, in case he was still angry. I had to lift myself as master fastened a harness around my middle that was attached to a sling which master placed under my testicles. When the harness was tightened, the sling lifted and pulled up my groin area, pulling my balls and penis, including my balloon, out of the way for full access to my anus, which was clearly visible due to my position. At the bottom of the chair, I could see master lift one of the instruments, but I didn’t know which or what it did.
“Are you clean?” master asked. I nodded in response. “Then we’ll start right away. Do you know what this does?” he asked, holding up a thin, rigid plastic tube. I shook my head. “Then I’ll acquaint you with it.”
I wanted to question him, but I held my tongue as he softly pressed the tiny tube against my rectum. I jumped as the thing suddenly began to vibrate insistently and an almost hot, slimy liquid began to pour slowly against my anus. I clenched my hands. The feeling was strange, and I wasn’t sure I liked it as master ran the tube around my anus, coating the muscles in lubricant before pushing it inside me.
The entire tube was warm and felt weird inside me, buzzing away happily as it coated my insides in that strange gel. I wiggled, uncertain about this tiny invader, but unable to do anything to stop it as master continued to drive it deeper into my body. It finally brushed my prostrate, stirring my groin to life, but the stimulation was not enough to make me more than half hard. Still, the constant vibrations were starting to become annoying, and I shifted to get away, but master would give me no such reprieve. I slumped in defeat, certain that he was still angry.
After a few more minutes, master pulled out the small tube and put it aside, then began to fiddle with the other instruments. I was glad that he had set aside the annoying toy, but anxious about the next tool he would raise. When he raised a foot long white tube nearly an inch wide with a blunt tip, I almost jumped out of my skin. My eyes went wide and I pushed with my legs against the chair, but I was stuck firm.
“Master...” I pleaded, but it was no use.
“I think,” master said, turning on the contraption, which made a loud, deep humming noise and vibrated so hard that it was visible, “that you have forgotten who I am. Tonight I will remind you.”
“Master, please...”
“Who is the master here, angel?”
“You are.”
“What can you do about this?”
“N-nothing.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” I replied, unhesitatingly. I was shaken, but my trust had not wavered.
“Good,” he said, “Then relax.”
But I couldn’t as he inserted that thing into me, and was greatly relieved when he stopped it about an inch inside me, then started to thrust it shallowly. My relief was short lived, as the vibrations surged through my body and left me wanted more. Suddenly, I was no longer afraid of the large invader, but craved it instead.
“Master, please...” I panted.
“Please what?” he asked with a wicked grin.
“Please... I need... more...” I begged incoherently.
“Ah. I see,” he replied, “Well, I’d like to give it to you, but you must do something for me first.”
“Anything,” I answered, trying uselessly to thrust back onto the instrument.
“Alright then, I’m going to as you some questions, and whenever you get them right I’ll give you a little more. First question; who am I?”
“Master,” I said, but there was no change in depth.
“Whose master?”
“Mine. My master,” I whispered. There was a slight pressure and the tube moved in ever so tauntingly slightly.
“What do I do with you?” he asked.
“You use me,” I replied, and moaned as I felt the tube pulled out a bit.
“Wrong answer,” master said, “try again.”
“You... uh... take me?” I asked, and was disappointed to feel the object move back again.
“Perhaps I should word it better for you. What do I do for you?”
“You...uh...take care of me,” I said, and it moved in again, “and...uhn...keep me safe...” another inward movement, “and listen to me,” I said and was rewarded with another movement.
“How do I feel about you?”
“You... you care about me...” I said, and was rewarded with almost in inch. I moaned with pleasure as master continued to give me shallow thrusts.
“Why do you trust me?”
“Because you’re my master... and you would never hurt me...”Another inch.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the party.”
“Because I’m lazy and stupid...” Two inches were suddenly gone and I moaned in disappointment.
“Try again.”
“Because... because I took too much time helping Qua-... your new slave...” An inch added.
“Why am I angry with you?”
“Because I messed up and embarrassed you in front of the other masters...” An inch gone. I sobbed.
“Think, angel. Why am I mad?”
“Because... because someone touched me...” an inch, “someone you didn’t know or know about,” another small increase, “because... because...”
“Think, angel, why would that anger me?”
“Because I’m yours and... because they could have... hurt me?” I asked him. “Were you mad because I let someone do something to me that could have hurt me?”
“Yes, angel,” he said, smiling at me finally, “I was angry because you did something potentially dangerous without consulting me. And why was I mad about that?”
“Because you care about me,” I said, with a conviction I had lacked from the beginning of the party.
“Very good,” said master, “Now, for your reward,” he said, then suddenly thrust the tube deep inside me, rubbing it persistently against my prostrate. In a pitiful amount of time my cock, without any other stimulation, was twitching and my balloon was suddenly beginning to inflate in rapid little bursts.
“I must say,” master commented as I lay there, sated from my orgasm and basking in the relaxation of post-orgasm, “That those balloons do help with cleanup. I may have to take some home with us,” he teased. “For now, though, lets work on getting that balloon totally full,” he said as he jerked his cloth pants down and suddenly thrust his hard shaft into my loosened hole. I gasped, becoming hard again instantly, as master pulsated within me. He thrust rapidly, his standing position giving him the leverage to put it in me more deeply than he had in the past, and I was breathless as he smacked into me, ramming himself deeper at a frenzied pace until he shouted with orgasm, bringing me into one with his hot seed. As I watched my balloon fill again, I wondered if I’d leave here with a full balloon. Then I wondered if I physically could.

Zechs 28
If I could be glad for any part of the party, it would be the tents. Heero needed a domineering reassurance that I did not feel I could give to him in public, and I needed the reputation that would come from dominating Heero. The tents managed to work both needs together perfectly, and I spent most of the night in the first tent reassuring Heero and having kinky sex with him. By the time we left that tent there wasn’t enough time to try another, so we decided to leave early instead. I hadn’t wanted to leave Quatre alone for so long anyway, so I helped Heero out of the chair, ready to head back. He stumbled a bit, and I knew he would be sore in the morning, but he was able to walk so I put my coat around him and we headed out.
“How did you like the party?” master Scrub asked as Heero and I headed out the door.
“It was much more enjoyable than I originally thought it would be,” I told him as I glanced at the group of slaves draped over his legs where he was seated on the red plush couch. “But I still prefer my slaves to be more covered around strangers. I don’t want anyone getting any ideas, after all,” I told him. He grinned at me.
“I had you pegged for possessive the moment I saw you,” he boasted, “Well, I suppose we all can’t be good at sharing, now can we? I hope to see you at Madame Long’s party later this week. I’m sure you’ll receive an invitation, all the blonde men do. See you then,” he dismissed, and I was more than happy to leave.
Halfway back to the room, Heero began to drag his feet, then stumble, then leaned on the wall for support. It was risky, but I decided it was better to pick him up then to leave him asleep in the hall. After all, I was the one who had worn him out.
“Master?” he asked as I lifted him into my arms. “Please, I’m fine. I can walk, I just...”
“Hush. You’re almost asleep on your feet. We’re almost home anyway,” I told him and he settled as I carried him the rest of the way to the room.
Once inside, I realized that Heero was soundly asleep. I chuckled and laid him on the couch, removing first the coat, then the hospital gown, and finally the balloon from him. He was so tired that he didn’t even wake as I slowly pulled the heavy balloon out, only moaned and curled into a ball. I smiled as I tied the balloon off and tossed it in the garbage. Heero was so sweet when he was asleep, so innocent, curled on his side, both hands in front of his face, just brushing his soft lips.
I contemplated leaving him where he was, but knew that he’d be better off sleeping in the bed. He was going to be sore anyway, I decided he’d be even more sore if he slept on the couch. With that in mind, I lifted him again and carried him to the bedroom, where I was surprised to find Quatre awake.
“Is he alright?” Quatre questioned timidly as I slid my first naked slave into bed beside him. I knew how much the question must have cost him, as Quatre was still terrified of me, so I gave him a gentle smile. His wide blue eyes were locked onto mine, and I could see the distrust as I pulled the blanket up and tucked Heero in.
“He’s fine, just a bit worn out. He’ll be sore tomorrow, though, so he might spend most of the day with you,” I told him. Quatre’s eyes went to Heero and he nodded sadly, thinking perhaps that I had been too rough with him. I knew that nothing I said would change his opinion, so I sighed and went to the closet to change into my night clothes. Once there, I couldn’t help but ask, “Why aren’t you asleep?”
“I’m sorry,” he said immediately, burying his face in the pillows.
“I’m not angry, but I thought the medicine would keep you out.”
“I..” he mumbled, lifting his head from the pillow, “I tried to sleep, but my back started to itch and...”
“Ah. Let me see,” I said as I finished dressing and walked over to the bed. Quatre flinched as I pulled back the covers. I couldn’t really blame him, though, as he still didn’t trust me, and he was naked except for a thin pair of shorts under the blanket. I gently peeled the bandages from his back, grateful to find that all but one of the wounds was healing nicely, though the last was still looking too red around the edges. It worried me a bit, but I decided to let it have some more time. I lathered each of the wounds with an antiseptic cream and put fresh bandages on, then tucked Quatre back in and slid in beside Heero.
“Do you feel better?” I asked, turning out the light.
“Yes, master,” Quatre whispered softly, “and thank you. You are too kind to me.”
“I doubt that,” I replied, “I’m sure you could use as much kindness as I can give. Now, get some sleep,” I said as I moved Heero and myself a bit closer to Quatre, so that I could lay my hand on his head as I continued to hold Heero. Quatre looked for a moment as though he would move away, but soon settled and wearily let his eyes droop shut. I knew it would take a while to gain Quatre’s trust, but I felt we had moved in the right direction.

Quatre 29
I still felt weak and drained when I awoke the next morning, but it was better than it had been. My new master and his slave were taking good care of me, and I actually felt like I might be able to find some happiness with them. At least, as much happiness as a slave may find. It was with that thought, during the early hours of morning while master and Heero slept quietly, that I realized how little I had done, how little I had contributed, and how little worth I was proving to the master. I made an oath right then, as the other two slept peacefully, that I would begin to pull my weight, that I would overcome my weak body and prove that I was useful to master, so that he would keep me. However, as soon as this thought had entered my mind, my weak body betrayed me again and pulled me down into the depths of sleep.
The next time I woke, I cursed myself. Both master and Heero were gone, and breakfast was sitting next to me on the night stand. I had missed my chance to help out, I thought as I ate my toast and tea, but I could at least try to clean up after myself.
Master, however, had other plans, and entered just as I was finishing. He smiled, sat down beside me, and put his hand on my forehead.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
“Yes, master, thank you,” I said timidly. I couldn’t help it, master was so big and I was so much smaller. He made me feel that much weaker. Still, master just smiled and picked up the empty tray.
“Uh-... Oh!” I called to him, causing him to turn around, “I-I could take that,” I offered, levering myself to my elbows with great difficulty. Master actually laughed at me.
“Don’t be silly,” he said, still smiling, “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you for lunch.”
I fell back to the pillows in a huff. I would prove myself useful to master, no matter what I had to do.
At first, I decided that I needed to do something big to get master’s attention. I certainly couldn’t lure him into sex in my condition, but if I could make him lunch I could at least show him that I wasn’t a complete waste of time. With that thought, I wiggled my legs off of the bed and attempted to stand, only to have my knees instantly give out. Unable to stop my downward movement, I slipped to my side and off the bed, rubbing my wounded back against the mattress on the way down. I couldn’t help myself as I tried and failed to cut off a shriek of pain. There was a sudden flurry of footsteps and master came running into the room.
“What happened?” he questioned, helping me back into the bed.
“I... fell,” I told him softly, hurt and humiliated by my own weakness.
“Were you trying to get something?” master asked, seeing through me.
“...I’m thirsty,” I lied easily. My up bringing had shown me how to lie, and my time living with Master Marcel had honed that skill. I felt bad about it, but I wasn’t about to take a punishment stupidly. Especially one that I doubted I could survive.
Master nodded his head, then brought me a glass of water. I was grateful for it, as I was feeling dizzy from falling out of bed and I needed to clear my head.
“If you need anything, just call. Heero or I will bring it to you. Don’t be stupid and hurt yourself,” master warned, then left the room, leaving the door open incase I needed to call for something. I wondered if he was testing me, but I couldn’t be sure. He had felt sincere earlier, but I was much too weak to tune my empathy in to one person and blank out the rest without physical contact. I hadn’t been able to do that for months, there was a slim chance the power would return any time soon.
My next attempt was simply to sit up by myself, as I knew there was nothing I could do to help master while in bed, so any aide I would give was dependant on me getting up. I managed to get to my elbows, but I made so much noise that master noticed.
“Quatre, what are you doing?” he asked as I collapsed back to the bed.
“Nothing,” I called, praying he’d buy it. After a few minutes, I decided that he had either believed me or let it drop, because he wasn’t coming to check on me. I tried again, and again, and again.
“Quatre? Do you need something?”
“Quatre... What are you doing?”
“Quatre, lay back down. I’m not going to say with again.”
“Quatre, this is your last warning!”
“Quatre!” master called after my sixth attempt, finally angry as he stormed into the room. I was exhausted, covered in sweat and tears from all the attempts I’d made. I cowered against the bed, afraid I had finally pushed too far, as master opened the drawer loudly and took out a bottle of medicine. I whimpered as I recognized it as the one that put me to sleep. I wanted to help master, not look even more useless by sleeping. I also worried about what master would do to me while I slept. I had been so very bad lately...
“Open,” master commanded sternly, holding a spoon of thick purple syrup in front of my face. I sobbed, but kept my mouth closed, backing away from him. If only I could tell him that I had been trying, that I would do better, that I could be useful...
“Quatre, open your mouth right now or you are going to be in very serious trouble,” he growled. My mouth opened without my permission, my body too afraid to resist his commands. My body had been trained that resistance meant pain, and I was in too much already. I let out another sob as I swallowed the overly sweet contents of the spoon.
Master gave me a drink of water and pushed me back down to the bed then. I had managed to sit up, but nothing more, and probably would have fallen back down soon anyway. He pushed me to my stomach, but I was feeling vulnerable, and was uncomfortable having someone above me in that position anyway, so turned to my side.
Master surprised me. I had expected him to storm off in a huff, like many masters, and leave me alone to think about my actions, but he didn’t. Instead, he slid in beside me and, after checking to make sure I was okay with his presence, pulled me against his side. I was tired, and beginning to feel lethargic from the medicine, so gave in to the temptation to curl against him. I could feel his annoyance, but it was superficial, and the worry underneath made me feel warm and cared for.
“What were you trying to do?” he asked softly, his lips brushing my forehead.
“I just...” I said, feeling the tears pool in my eyes, “I wanted to show you that I can be... useful,” I told him. “I know that I...” I trailed off, changing my tactic as I ran my hand across his chest, making my voice hoarse and sultry, “...can be of use to you. Don’t be afraid,” I said, pulling his face toward mine, “to break me.” I told him, moving my lips toward his. I was nearly there, thinking that I could do this to make master keep me, when he suddenly turned his head. I was so grateful I thought I would cry.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he told me, looking into my eyes and, I thought, my soul. “I’m not going to do anything to you right now, when you’re hurt. As for being useful, this certainly isn’t how you go about doing it,” he told me sternly, and I dissolved into tears, burying my face in his shoulder. I had only been trying to help, but I had messed everything up again. I was so stupid, and so useless, and selfish. Maybe if I had actually been trying to help the man who had been so kind to me, I would have been able to do it without screwing up.
“Enough, now,” master cooed, wiping my face with a tissue, “I’m not angry.” He paused then and let me collect myself before he went on. “Actually, there is something I need you for, but I’m not sure you’re up to it.”
“Anything,” I breathed, hoping he would trust me when I had done nothing to earn his trust.
“Your old master saw me in the halls this morning and mentioned that I should bring you to the dinner tonight. I said that I might, but that you were feeling ill, so that I could not give him a direct answer. I would like to take you, but I don’t know if I can trust you to rest until then, or to behave yourself once we get there.”
“I will! I promise, I will! Please!” I begged. The mention of master Marcel had reminded me of how bad it could be. I would do anything not to go back to those days.
“Alright then, you can start by sleeping this morning and afternoon without complaint,” he said, pulling out of my arms to rise from the bed. “Can you do that?”
I nodded and he left. It was not in the least bit difficult to follow the master’s wishes, even though I was in knots over the meal. As much as I didn’t want to see master Marcel again, I wanted to stay with master Zechs even more.

Zechs 30
I had to buy some heavy drugs for Quatre before the meal. As it was he had trouble sitting up. I knew he wouldn’t be able to take an hour or more of sitting on his current medication. Unlike when his arm was injured, Heero could not go to get these drugs, for they were potent enough to be illegal. Instead, I was able to retrieve them, as a master, and was able to converse with the clerk about where the drugs came from. I was pleased to find that they were medically safe, bought from L-2, where it was not illegal to purchase radical drugs.
The drug system in Collar was pathetically simple. The color denoted the effect of the drug, and the number its potency and duration. Red 1-1 was the lightest painkiller and would last only one hour. Blue 2-2 was the second lowest aphrodisiac and would last two hours. Yellow 4-2 was a fourth level anti-depressant that would last two hours. Green 3-6 was a third level sedative that would last six hours. And so the range went in each of the four colors through every level and time period up to level nine and twelve hours. Using my best judgement, I got Quatre a combo pill, an Orange 2-4, which mixed the Red painkiller and Yellow anti-depressant. I hoped it would be enough. I knew that the painkiller injections I was giving him were safer, but I also knew that these pills were stronger. I would need Quatre free of care for the dinner.
When I went back to the room, Quatre was still asleep. I wasn’t surprised, as he had worn himself out attempting to get up to help me by doing God knows what. I had lost my tempter with him, I admit, seeing him struggle so hard in such a weak condition made me want to lash out at those who hurt him, and, unfortunately, Quatre had been hurting himself at the time. I still remember his terrified, pale face as he backed away from me on his knees, shaking like a newborn foal, his expressive blue eyes open wide in panic. He was not well enough to run, but had he been well enough I believe he would have tried to escape me.
It had been early afternoon when I had given him the medicine, and I knew that it would wear off long before the dinner, but I still fretted a bit over Quatre’s still form, feeling his head for his fever which had, thankfully, gone down. I didn’t want to take him out of the rooms before he was ready, but I needed to use him to make sure Marcel wouldn’t go back on our agreement.
I had decided, after Heero’s slipup with the party, that it was time I got another able-bodied slave, as much as I cringed at making such a purchase. It was simply becoming too much for Heero to handle, watching me, Quatre, his own recovery, and his training toward Collar. He needed help, but he wasn’t going to like getting it.
Heero came back from his workout a few minutes before lunch which, because of Collar’s strange schedule, was around six PM. We were expected at the dinner at eleven, but I still needed to find Quatre an outfit. Quatre was much more slender than Heero, and the clothes of Collar were made to fit just so, so it was necessary to purchase him a set of clothes all his own, instead of letting him wear Heero’s. The trick was, he would not be well enough to try them on, so I would have to take his measurements and guess about the rest.
I sent Heero to take a shower while I called for lunch. The special was pasta, so I ordered two bowls and a bowl of soup for Quatre. By the time the food arrived, Heero was done with his shower, so the two of us ate. Once we were finished, I called Heero to help me feed Quatre. I worried that the boy, drugged and half asleep, would be difficult to feed.
My worries were completely unfounded. After pulling Quatre into a sitting position, which leaned his shoulder against the headboard of the bed as he still could not take weight on his back, and making sure he was awake enough to realize we were going to feed him, I barely had to do anything but hold the bowl as Quatre slurped it down noisily. The spoon lay forgotten on the dresser, but that was probably for the best, as hand feeding him every bite would have been an arduous task.
It seemed that Quatre, with his fever mostly gone now, was finally feeling the effects of the race, blood loss, and sickness that had depleted his small nutrient reserves. I could only hope that he would begin to eat to gain back his strength, and made a note to send down for quick snacks for the boy incase we were busy and Quatre was hungry.
Once Quatre finished I wiped the small trail of broth from the corner of his mouth, then helped him to lay back down. Looking like a kitten gorged on milk, I’m sure Quatre would have liked nothing more than to go back to sleep, but he forced himself to stay awake when I made no move to leave and instead pulled out a measuring tape.
“Whazzat?” Quatre slurred, struggling to hold his eyes open as he looked at me over his shoulder.
“Master’s going to measure you for clothes,” Heero interjected, moving from his place in the doorway to the bed. “Would you like some clothes?” he asked, taking Quatre’s attention so I could begin to work. I gave him a nod in approval, then began to measure Quatre while he was distracted.
“I guess... so,” Quatre replied, sleepy and wary at the same time.
“Any particular kind?” I asked to keep the conversation going.
“I... Anything with an open back, master, please,” he said, suddenly sad and afraid. I paused.
“I’m not going to put you into something skin tight, if that’s what you’re thinking, but the open back idea might be a better option. Good job, little one,” I praised, hoping to relax him a bit as I pulled back the blankets. It didn’t work very well, for Quatre snatched the blankets and held on, preventing me from pulling them down.
“No...” he moaned, looking at me with pleading eyes. I had been expecting this.
“It’s alright, we just want to measure you. It’s just for a minute,” I consoled, pulling the blankets out of his hands. He sniffled, burying his face in the pillows. I was quick with my measurements, taking them all down in my head, while Heero whispered solace in his ear and rubbed the shoulders of the crying boy. As soon as I was finished, I returned the covers to their original position and gently kissed the top of Quatre’s head.
“I know this is hard for you, dear one, but you’re doing very well. Just try to trust us, alright? We really are trying to help,” I told him softly, then left the bed.
In the doorway, I paused and turned to Heero. “I have to leave now, or he won’t have clothes for the dinner tonight. I want you to stay with Quatre, rest a bit, and keep an eye on him. You both need to be well rested and ready by the time I get back. I’m sure sleep will be no problem for Quatre, so I want you to nap along with him, alright?”
It wasn’t really a question, so my only answer was Heero lying down beside Quatre to do as I commanded. I smiled softly at the pair, my pair. I sighed quietly at the thought. Unfortunately, my pair would soon become a trio.
Most of the clothes I bought for Quatre were baggy and made for sleeping clothes. I bought him an angel outfit somewhat similar to Heero’s, only it was much more concealing and much less tight. The material was light, so I doubted it would hurt his back. The comparison between the two costumes would make Quatre look more innocent and Heero look more lusty. Hopefully it would also pull some attention away from Quatre and put it on Heero.
When I returned, Heero and Quatre were fast asleep, side by side, curled up like kittens. It struck me, then, that I had yet to come up with a slave name for Quatre, and the name instantly came to me. Quickly, for I knew that I would need him registered before the dinner, I logged onto my computer and drew up the documents to change his name electronically. In minutes, Quatre became Golden Sunshine Kitten.
I smiled softly and went to get my shower, giving them just a few more minutes of rest. The two deserved it, and would probably need it.
I woke Heero quietly once I was out of the shower and dressed, careful not to wake Quatre. His light blue eyes fluttered open, then followed the line of my arms from his shoulder up to my face. He smiled at me, relaxed and content, and I couldn’t help but lean down to softly kiss his forehead before leading him to the kitchen.
“Morning, master,” Heero commented, yawning and stretching.
“It’s nearly nighttime,” I commented with a smile. Heero merely shrugged.
“What are we going to do about Quatre?” he asked. My smile disappeared.
“As you know, I bought some drugs earlier today that should keep him quiet through dinner. I just don’t know how he’ll react to the drugs. I may need your help to give them to him.”
Heero nodded solemnly. “We should do it soon, or it won’t take effect before we leave.”
I sighed, feeling as though the weight of the world had settled on my shoulders. The drugs were necessary to keep Quatre from feeling pain when we moved him and to keep him calm around the crowd, but I doubted he’d understand. Quatre was afraid of drugs, and nothing I said could calm that fear.
“We still have time,” I told him, “Let him eat and rest a little more. We can get him ready after we’re already dressed for the occasion. If worst comes to worst, we can leave him behind, but I’d rather not let it come to that.”
“Why not?” Heero asked, being uncharacteristically bold, “Why is it so important that he goes with us?”
“Since the party, I’ve seen how much work I’m really putting on you. You’ve done very well so far, and I’m not chastising you for it, but we can’t have another slip-up like that one. I think... we need to redistribute the workload, so I’m going to get another slave. Master Marcel promised me another slave because he “damaged” Quatre. Now, I have no intention of giving Quatre back, but I intend to take Marcel up on his proposition of another slave. I hope to use Quatre as a bargaining chip and... Heero? Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” he replied curtly, though he had gone somewhat pale and closed off. “I’ll go order dinner,” he said, and left the room.
I threw my hands in the air. What the devil had I said wrong now?

Quatre 31
I liked curling up with Heero almost as much as I liked curling up with master. I felt no fear when I curled up with Heero, but I also didn’t feel the fierce protectiveness master projected. There was kindness, but the bond I shared with Heero was not as strong as the bond I shared with master. It was still stronger than any I felt from a rival slave before, and I enjoyed it, but master’s enveloped me while Heero’s only touched me. In truth, Heero’s bond with me felt more normal than master’s because I had really only known them a few days, but I could feel the same kind of bind whenever master touched Heero, so I could only assume that this new master of mine was simply very attached and dedicated to his slaves. It was one of the reasons I vowed so strongly not to give master any reason to send me away.
If I could only get myself over my fear of master, I probably would have curled up with him more often, but, sick and wounded, I was still frightened that master would tire or become angry with me, so I tried to avoid contact with him, even though I craved it. My failed attempt to help him sparked hope in me that he might not be so severe if I made a mistake, as I obviously had, but it would take more for me to really believe it. Unfortunately, my failures also added to my fear that master would soon sell me, as I had still not given him a reason to keep me. Perhaps he thought it was a waste of energy to beat me, as he’d be rid of me soon anyway.
I was alone in the bed when master came to awake me for the dinner, though I am sure I went to sleep with Heero curled beside me. The dinner was something I dreaded, but I was glad to finally be able to do something for master, even if it was something as terrible as seeing Master Marcel again. Since I couldn’t do anything physical for master, at least I could look pretty for him, and perhaps then he’d want to keep me. Still, I dreaded seeing Master Marcel’s cruel eyes staring at me with such anger... If I thought about it too much, I could still hear the crack of the whip as it struck my flesh. It made the wounds on my back burn even more, and I tried to think about it as little as I could.
Ever gentle, master helped me get up, then hovered over me while I sat back on my ankles, worried I would fall. No one had worried about me in all my time at Collar, and soaked it up as much as I could. I couldn’t bear to think of the time before Collar. The memories were bittersweet, so much that it was painful.
I had wedding soup that night, a change from the chicken soup I had been given the night before, but predicable in the sense that I had eaten nothing but soup and bread since I had arrived, because of my fever. Master worried that anything richer would make me vomit, and he didn’t want to complicate my recovery. Master sat close to me as I ate, as either he or Heero always did, since they both worried I would faint and fall. I couldn’t help but shy away. I wanted his attention and concern, but I was still afraid that I would do something wrong, and master would leave me. I wanted his praise, but I was too shy to earn it. I craved his touch, but I feared it. It was this set of paradoxes that put me in a limbo; constantly seeing what I wanted, but never reaching for it. More than anything I wanted affection, but I often became frightened when master gave it to me, so he no longer offered. And I was merely a slave, I had no right to ask for that which I did not earn.
“You can sleep a little longer,” master told me once I had finished as he helped me to lie back down. “I’ll wake you in time to get ready,” he assured me as he pulled the blanket over me. I smiled contentedly and snuggled down into the pillow, warm and full. It felt like I was finally on the way to recovering, and I was starting to think that master would not get rid of me before then. I didn’t let myself wonder what he had planned for me if he willing to put so much effort into me, for I was afraid of what that answer might be.
I must have slept for half an hour before master came to wake me, for I felt refreshed, but not lethargic as one does after a long sleep. I yawned, stretched as far as I could without hurting my back, and smiled. That is, until I saw the first aide box in master’s hands.
“Master?” I questioned, uncertain. My bandages had already been changed for the day.
“I need to give you medicine to keep you from...”
“No!” I gasped, struggling to my knees.
“Quatre, listen,” master cajoled, but I was already backing away.
“No, please!” I cried, hoping master would change his mind. “I’ll behave, I promise!”
“I know you’ll behave,” master snapped, “that isn’t what this is for!” he growled as he tried to pull me back toward him, but I dodged his outstretched hand and backed blindly toward the other side of the bed. Once there, I ran into something warm and soft and whipped my head around to see Heero standing behind me, his face grave.
“Quatre...” he called gently, and I couldn’t help the tears that tracked down my face.
“Please,” I begged him, “you understand, right? They could... they could do anything... anything! And I’d... I couldn’t... do... anything...” I gasped out, staring into his deep blue eyes. I could tell that he understood as his eyes suddenly gained that haunted look a bad memory always bring, and I hoped for a moment that he might help me, but master was there in the next instant, his strong hands pulling me back, and my chance at escape was gone.
“Damn it, Quatre!” he growled, “No one’s going to hurt you! And don’t try to get Heero to save you from me when I’m not even hurting you!” master snapped, obviously upset. I glanced at Heero, who had grit his teeth and wouldn’t look at me, and suddenly felt very ashamed. I had tried to use him to save myself from master, and in the process I had both angered master and reminded him of a past he most likely wanted to forget just as much as I did, and maybe more. Forgetting my previous fear in favor of my guilt, I reached out and brushed my fingertips across his arm, half afraid he would push me away. Instead, his guilty, tortured eyes raised to meet my own, and I could see the same pain, the same fear that was in my own.
We were kindred spirits, he and I. Our souls had been battered, and beaten, and bore scars that we could never erase, but we still fought on.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, hoping to convey to him the guilt I felt. Then I was silent, for any more would only sound like I was begging him not to be mad at me so that he would help me again, and any less would leave my conscience burning. He stared at me, and I lowered my head in shame, my hand remaining on his arm in a silent plea. When he said nothing, I assumed that he could not forgive me, but in a moment I felt him raise my hand to his face. I looked up as I felt him rub his cheek against my palm. Unable to voice his forgiveness, he had chosen this method instead, but I heard it all the same. I could feel the kindness of Heero’s soul and, being so little the recipient of such kindness, I couldn’t help but grab for more.
Heero was startled, I think, when I slipped into his embrace, wrapping my arms around him and bringing my head in his chest. It only took a moment, though, for Heero to return my embrace, and when he did I could feel the tension in his body, and in his soul. He, like me, was uncertain, set adrift by this new master, who was so wonderful that it seemed a cruel dream, and that any minute we would awaken back in the nightmarish reality that we had so long lived in. I could feel Heero shaking almost imperceptibly and remembered the scars on his back. Life had not been kind to him, but until now he had seemed at ease with master, and I wondered what had so upset him. As he clung to me almost as tightly as I clung to him, I could not find the voice to ask what had scared him so. In honesty, I did not want to.

Quatre 32
It was then that I realized we had an audience, and remembered that master was still in the room with us. I turned my head cautiously and found him sitting on the bed patiently a few inches away. He did not seem angry as he watched us, like many masters would. Other masters feared letting their slaves bond, thinking they would mutiny, as some had. Masters strove to create competition between their slaves, to keep the slaves from trusting each other, and to force them to work harder. It was hard on the slaves, but benefitted the master all around. This master, however, looked almost pleased that we had come to share a bond as we did.
“Come to me?” master said softly, a questioning lilt to his voice, allowing for refusal. Heero and I both moved at the same time, gracefully untangling from each other as we moved to where master sat. It was the first time, I realized as I pressed myself against his left side, that I wasn’t sure if I moved because my master had said to, or because I wanted to. True, I was still uncertain of my master, but now more than ever I craved the feeling of protection he gave when we touched. As Heero curled against his right side, I could tell he felt the need as I did and cherished it just as much.
I watched as master leaned to his right and could tell that he was kissing Heero even though I couldn’t actually see it. When they parted and I could see Heero once again, there were no traces of disgust from the kiss. Instead, Heero had the ghost of a smile on his face as he leaned in to rub his cheek against master’s chest. It was only then that I noticed they were both dressed for the dinner, with Heero in an angel costume and master in a loose, flowing white suit that allowed him to look as ethereal as Heero without using wings.
Master turned to me, and I realized with sudden clarity that he was going to kiss me. I choked down the urge to shy away and submitted obediently, parting my lips to allow him access. His lips met mine, but it was a chaste kiss, his lips lingering over mine for only a second, his tongue never invading my mouth. The warmth of his lips felt good on my own, and they tingled even as he sat back. It felt good and clean, unlike the kisses of my other masters.
A stab of fear went through me, realizing what had just happened, and I nervously glanced at Heero, who was watching me and could not have missed what had just happened. Though I had not asked for it, I was afraid Heero would be angry that master had kissed me, making me competition. But there was no jealousy in Heero’s eyes, only a melancholy acceptance, telling me that he had known this would happen and had accepted it. I felt no animosity from him, and was grateful. I was not certain that in his place I would have been so kind.
“I won’t proclaim to know what goes on in either of those heads of yours, but a blind man could see that you’re both more upset than you have any merit to be. You,” he said, looking me straight in the eyes, “need to learn to trust me. I’ve done nothing to betray your trust, and you’ve given me no way to earn it. Then, by default, I should have it, for it would make a lot of things go much more smoothly. You,” he said, turning to Heero, “need to tell me what’s wrong. I can’t fix it if I don’t know what it is. I know you have a voice, use it to help yourself once in a while, instead of putting all your feelings aside. Your silence does more harm than good, and the only one you’re hurting is yourself.”
I was somewhat awed when master finished. I had not known him to be nearly so perceptive. And neither, it seemed from the shocked look on his face, had Heero.
“Now,” master continued, “If you have no compelling argument against it, I am going to give you an injection,” he said firmly. I flinched at the word injection, then tensed, expecting him to pounce on me with the shot. Instead, he waited, and I realized that he was waiting for me to give him a response.
“I... won’t have any... control...” I explained hesitantly. A slave wasn’t supposed to have any control, and in reality we had almost none. The only control we had was over ourselves and our action, and drugs removed that control, making us helpless. When the master is someone the slave does not trust, this experience is... terrifying.
Master’s eyes were sympathetic, but his resolve was still there as he said, “I understand, but I can’t acquiesce. The drugs I’m about to give you are mild, and mainly painkillers, but they may disorient you,” he said, placing a hand on my chin and tilting my face so that our eyes met. “You will have to trust that I will keep you safe. There is no other option, little one. I wish there were,” he said sincerely, then gently kissed my forehead. I nodded, still frightened but less so.
“Just...” I said suddenly, “Just don’t hold me down please,” I asked, “I can’t... I don’t...”
“I understand,” master said gently. “As long as you don’t try to get away, no one will restrain you. Just stay calm,” master soothed as he cleansed my arm and gently pricked me with the needle.
The drug didn’t take affect immediately, but by the time master and Heero had moved to the closet to get my clothes, I could no longer feel the pain in my back. By the time they had dressed me, with their gentle hands and soft voices, I was beginning to feel like I was in a very good dream.
“Now, Heero,” I heard master say, “It’s time you and I talked about....” master said, but was interrupted by the beeping of his watch. He cursed. “You and I will talk when we come back,” he promised, and I sensed that he was somewhat annoyed, but he was still gentle with me when he said, “Come now, it’s time to go,” then lifted me in his arms and headed for the door.
I remember feeling blissfully happy, then everything began to bleed into one another, and it all swirled so much that all I could do was giggle.

Heero 33
It was my job to get Quatre ready once we had his clothes on. It wasn’t easy, and I thought of asking master to come help several times, but I didn’t want to seem inept. It was just that Quatre kept squirming in his seat, so it was difficult to do his make-up. It would have been harder had I been applying anything more than a little lip-gloss and eyeshadow, but master wasn’t too worried about our appearances beyond our clothes. I honestly don’t think he noticed the make-up I wore when we went to see the other masters, because he was surprised when I suggested putting some make-up on Quatre. He agreed readily, though, trusting me with his care.
Another master would have been more careful leaving a helpless slave in another slave’s care, but the feeling of competition that existed under other masters had never arisen here. In another household, even I might have been tempted to scar Quatre’s beautiful face, to assure my own place within the house. But there was no need for such fierceness here. I had quickly seen that Quatre would not take my place. He was beautiful, a prize no doubt, but he was so very different from me, and so weak from his rough treatment. Quatre had been accepted into the fold, and I had not been pushed out. In turn I accepted Quatre, and he accepted me in return. It had made master all the happier, and for that I was grateful.
It was Master’s new slave that I worried about. Quatre had been injured when he arrived, so he had not been able to find a place above me, and had become my equal instead of my rival. I did not have the same hopes for the third addition to our house. With the scars on my back, there was no way I could compete for master’s attentions if a more attractive, better trained rival were to show up. I would be pushed aside.
Something felt inherently wrong about doing Quatre’s make-up in his semi-conscious state. More than that it was difficult, it was like painting a moving doll. When I looked into those light blue eyes, there was nothing of Quatre’s earlier intelligence, or his feelings. The passion that Quatre had been able to protect for so long was gone, replaced by the superficial sweetness of the puppet that sat patiently in front of me, unaware of what was going on.
Once I was finished, Master came in and, after glancing at Quatre’s face as an inspection, picked the light boy up and walked toward the door, muttering that it was time to go. I saw Quatre’s eyes focus for a moment as Master spoke, but the drugs kicked in a second later and he was back to being doll-Quatre. I would have to keep a close eye on him, lest he hurt himself.
The dinner wasn’t especially fancy. If it hadn’t been for the half-dressed slaves beside every master, it would have seemed almost ordinary. The chairs at the table were strange, but common for Collar functions. It was more of a bench with a high back in the middle. The master would sit in the center of the bench as though it were a normal chair. Slaves would sit on either side, either sitting up or reclining into the master’s lap or onto the soft cushions on the edge of chair.
Master had put Quatre down as we neared the restaurant, at my request. It would have seemed strange for a master to carry a slave around unless the master had recently done something to injure that slave, and then the master would only carry them back to the room. Quatre walked slowly, his head down as though he believed he had done something wrong. It was the drugs, and I knew it, but I still felt as though I should do something to help him. Master seemed to sense it, too, because he paused as we entered the room and made Quatre look at him.
“Smile for me,” he asked gently, smiling softly at him. Quatre seemed confused for a moment, then gave Master a full-force grin. Master smiled in return, and I felt my own lips tilt up. Then the moment was gone, and Master was ushering Quatre into a seat, myself into the other side.
Master Marcel was on the other side of the table, and for the first time that night I was glad Quatre was drugged, so that he couldn’t see the scathing look his former master shot him. Apparently, Master Marcel also remembered the deal he made with my master, and was now regretting it. Master was right for bringing Quatre along, if he wanted to get the other slave. Of course, Master caught this look and threw one back with twice the intensity, causing Master Marcel to look away quickly. He was not afraid of my Master, but he was not far from it. It did not help that Master had a hatred for the man that he barely managed to conceal, making his tone icy and civil when they spoke.
There were four other masters at the table besides Marcel. I recognized all of them from previous encounters with my other masters, but luckily none of them were my former masters. Beside Marcel sat a thin, cruel-looking master called The Duke. Slaves that were not his own never referred to him as Master Duke, and even his own slaves often called him The Duke. He was intimidating enough, even without the master title. There was a fairly new master named Master Jet, one of the few female masters named Madam Long, and Master Zephyr.
There were, of course, other slaves situated around the table as well, but all except one were looking down and never dared to raise their heads. Only the Chinese youth accompanying Madam Long dared to look my way, and I recognized him as our eyes met. He was not Madam Long’s slave at all, but instead belonged to the Masters’ Master, man called the Owner, the man who ran Collar. His slave name was Dragon, and he was famous among Collar participants because he was the only slave to take first place in four tournaments along with several second and third places. If he had managed to win top ten in one more event he would have won Collar alone, a feat that no other slave had even come close to. However, because he was the Owner’s slave, he was never permitted to work with a team, and he was never sold.
No, Dragon’s fate was much worse than that. The Owner had offered something of a bounty on his body. If any master could persuade Dragon to come to his bed willingly, he would automatically be given the honor and titled associated with winning Collar. If a master could break Dragon, he would learn the true name of the Owner, making him the most powerful master in Collar. So far, no one had been able to break Dragon, for Owner would not permit anyone to damage his slave, but Dragon was regularly “rented out” to interested master hoping to make a name for themselves. It seemed that Madam Long had decided to try her hand, but from her frown I could guess that she was having little luck. If rumors were true, Dragon was more than a handful.
“I hope I haven’t kept everyone waiting,” Master apologized to the group.
“Hm,” purred Madam Long cruelly, “It allowed us all to make friends. Didn’t it, Poppet?” she asked Dragon, who glared vehemently at the table as she uttered the name. From her expression and his, I could tell the neither of them had made friends.
“Don’t let her scare you,” said Master Jet, “She’s just been having trouble with the Dragon. Seems she bit off more than she could chew when she took on Collar’s naughtiest pet.”
“He’s not naughty,” Madam Long Corrected with a frown, “He’s high maintenance. The Owner spoils the brat, so that no other master can do anything with him!” she hissed, elbowing the slave in the ribs. Dragon remained unmoved, his eyes boring into the table.
“I give up,” Madam Long sighed, “The boy just doesn’t want to be happy,” she said. It was a common tactic among masters, to make the slave blame themselves for any problem they had. It worked on slaves with low intelligence, but had little effect on those better trained. Dragon was indifferent, so Madam Long elbowed him again. He moved the slightest bit away from the blow, but otherwise ignored her. His eyes stared hard at the table, and he seemed to feel that someone was watching him, for he fidgeted just the slightest bit. When he finally looked up, it was not my eyes that he met, but eyes slightly above and behind me, which I could only assume were Master’s. Something seemed to pass between them, but luckily I was the only one to notice. I another moment, they both looked away.
“If you can’t handle him, you should have never taken him,” Duke commented, blind to what had just transgressed.
“It’s not my fault!” Madam Long defended, “The Owner’s been away on business, and Mistress Ice doesn’t have time to babysit him and train her own slaves. She just started breaking the little redhead, for goodness sake! She asked me if I could handle him for a while, I don’t see any of you jumping at the offer,” she hissed, glaring at the rest of the table. In honesty, most of the masters had given up attempting to get anywhere with Dragon. It had been more than two years since that proclamation, and yet no one had willingly managed to make him come to their bed and, though there was word that a few had made him go unwillingly, none had broken his spirit. No wise master training for Collar would be willing to take care of the Dragon while Owner was away.”
“I’ll take him.”

Heero 34
“I’ll take him.”
I closed my eyes, trying to tell myself that the voice had not come from beside me.
“What?” Madam Long asked, narrowing her eyes.
“I said I’ll take him,” Master repeated, “If he’s such a bother. After all, it’s my first year. I’m really not so busy as the rest of you. He is the Owner’s pet, isn’t he?” Master asked.
A cold chill fell over me and I tugged on Master’s sleeve. He glanced at me and our eyes met. His were calm, but I could see his mind working behind them. Somehow, Master had learned of the situation, and was well in control. I relaxed. Somehow, Master was always one step ahead.
“I suppose it’d be alright...” Madam Long said, hesitating, then resolving herself as she glanced down at Dragon, who remain still as stone and just as unfeeling. “No, I know it will be fine. I can have Mistress Ice draw up the papers next week, and I’ll hand him over to you then.” She stretched, smiling, and I could see the tension ease out of her. “I’m almost glad to have the weight off of my shoulders. I haven’t seen my Sparrow all week, and I’m sure he’s getting jealous.”
“Are you sure you’ll be able to handle him?” Master Zephyr asked. “After all, your little blonde pet doesn’t seem to be doing all well.”
“Oh, Kitten?” Master replied casually, “He was injured in a bet before I even got him,” he said, glancing at Master Marcel with a very potent expression. “He’s actually doing a lot better now. Angel’s taken lovely care of him don’t you think?”
Master Marcel blushed under Master’s stare and turned away. In the same moment, Duke laughed.
“So this is the little pet I’m replacing, eh?” Duke chuckled, a cold grin on his face. “You really did a number on him, Marcel,” Duke said.
“It’s not my fault,” Marcel replied angrily, “That little bitch’s been a pain ever since I got him!” Master Marcel yelled and Quatre, suddenly aware of the man’s presence, huddled down behind the table and buried himself in Master’s coat, shivering. I saw Master react almost without thought, intending to lean down to Quatre, but stopped himself. He couldn’t show such affection to one slave in front of the other masters. Instead, he casually placed a hand on Quatre’s head to calm the boy, never turning his face from the table.
“You’ve scared him!” Master Zyphyr accused, pulling his own slave closer. The boy was tiny, even smaller than Quatre, with a dark complection and back hair. The boy willingly fell across his master’s lap, pressing close, as few slaves would. The boy was either trying very hard to please his master, or cared for the master deeply.
“Don’t get so upset,” Duke chided, “Everyone knows the little ones have such a tendency toward crying. I’m sure if Marcel had dropped a fork it would have had the same effect.”
“He’s right, you know,” Madam Long put in, smiling in fond remembrance, “Just last week I took a paddle to my little Sparrow and I’d barely gotten in two cracks before he was bawling at my knees,” she said, smiling softly.
“What did you do?” Master Jet asked, leaning over the table with interest.
“Why, I finished the punishment, of course! You can’t have a slave thinking they can get away with anything by simply crying. Then they’d never stop!” she laughed. “No, I finished the punishment and sent him to get a bath. When he came back out I told him to stop crying or he’d spend the night in his cage. He stopped, and when I woke up the next morning he was behaving like a prince. When a slave knows they can’t get away with anything, they behave themselves.”
“I see your point,” Master purred, “but it’s really not Kitten’s fault. He wasn’t feeling well today, and I gave him some drugs to quiet him. It seems to have had the opposite effect, though.”
“You have to be very careful giving drugs to the little ones. A little goes a long way, with them,” Duke commented.
“I can see that, now,” Master laughed, rubbing Quatre’s head as the boy ceased his crying. “Still, I’m sure I didn’t give him enough to be dangerous.”
“What’s wrong with him, if I may ask?” Master Zypher questioned.
“The little pussy couldn’t run the gauntlet, that’s all,” Master Marcel answered quickly.
“Injured in a gauntlet run?” Master Jet questioned, “I’ve never been in one, but I’ve heard they can be brutal. So the wounds are from a whip?” he asked. Master nodded, and I could see him restraining himself from glaring once again at Master Marcel. He was having much difficulty.
“Have you sent him to a doctor?” Master Zephyr asked. Master Zephyr seemed genuinely concerned about Quatre’s well being, and I wondered how he could be a master and care so much.
“I haven’t, no,” responded Master. “I was hoping that we could avoid that, since I only have one other slave. Angel fixed him up fairly well, so I think he’ll be alright.”
“You should send him,” the Duke interjected. “Granted, you can’t just send them for any little thing, but a dead slave is still worth less than a missing slave. Besides, you can’t do anything without him crying as it is, and you’ll just waste your money drugging him,” Duke commented sagely. “Trust me, once they’re addicted a slave is completely useless. Most of them have to be put down, some even get dangerous. They say the Shinigami is addicted to Back 10-200.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Madam Long huffed. “You know the Owner would never allow something so powerful on Collar. And who would buy it for him?”
Black 10-200 was a highly addictive enhancer that caused a person to go insane and attack anything close by. It also allowed the user to stay awake for long periods of time and raised strength, speed, and agility of the user with no affect on the intelligence level. It was nearly impossible to get, but it had several lesser counterparts that were readily available. The pills Quatre had been dosed with were from the same scale, but where Black was nearly at the top, Quatre’s were nearly at the bottom.
“Shinigami?” Master questioned innocently and I frowned. I should have told him about the Shinigami, but I hadn’t thought it would come up.
“Shinigami’s something of a superstar around here,” Master Jet said, “From what I heard about three years ago he won three of the hardest competitions in Collar alone. Then his master died and no one could get him to dance worth shit.”
“Is that so?” Master asked. “What competitions did he compete in?”
“Only the big three,” said Madam Long, “Erotica, Exotic Dance, and Specialty Pleasures.”
“They all sound the same!” Master laughed.
“They’re pretty close,” Madam Long answered, sharing his amusement. “Erotica is the competitor and one other pet having sex in front of a panel of judges. Erotic dance is pretty much a strip tease. And Specialty Pleasures is a kink competition. It’s almost the same as Erotica only with a kink added.”
“Why are they called the big three?” Master wondered.
“Because they’re the ones that everyone tried for,” said Master Jet, “Anyone who owns a pet tries for those three, because they practice it so often. No one’s ever even won first in two of them, let alone the three that Shinigami took.”
“So he won Collar that year then?”
“Not even close,” Master Marcel replied, “His master was a loser. The man only had three slaves, and the other two were crap. It screwed the whole team over.”
“I don’t understand,” Master said, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.
“It’s like this,” Master Zephyr put in, “Each master must have a team of eight slaves or less. Each slave is allotted three events that they must compete in. Now, one slave could take eight events and another could take four, but it’s very hard on the slaves to do that. However it falls, the team must compete in twenty-four events out of the thirty planned each year. If the team competes in less than twenty-four events it must take a last place for any event missed. The scores are tallied by places, so a last place really hurts the team, especially if almost a hundred people compete in that event.”
“That’s why Dragon’s never won,” Madam Long said. “Try as he might, he can never manage to take a good place in all twenty-four events. He’s been close before, though, because he took four firsts and six seconds one year, but then he completely fell in the dance competition. Landed flat on his butt, he did,” she said, smiling as Dragon blushed bright red. “Ever since then he’s always bombed in the dance event. Just too much for the poor dear’s tiny brain, I suppose.”
“Whatever happened to this Shinigami?” Master asked, diverting the flow of conversation.
“Nobody could do anything with him,” said Duke, “no matter how much they whipped him, he was just no good at anything. The next year he entered his highest placing was a twenty. For about two years since then he’s been pawned from master to master, until a few months ago he was sold given back to the own because no one wanted him. He’ll probably be on sale at the end of Collar, but because he got three firsts his price will be sky high, even though he’s useless. If he doesn’t sell this year, they’ll put him down for sure. Good riddance, too.”
“Someone’ll buy him,” Master Marcel argued, “There’s always someone trying to make a name for himself by taming the legend. We just have to wait around and see who it is this year.”
Conversation came to a sudden halt then, as the food arrived, but I certainly had enough to think about. Now, instead of having one new pet, I also had the Owner’s slave to worry about.
Quatre had fallen asleep in Master’s coat, so I rose to serve Master without hesitation, but my mind wasn’t on my work. I was far to busy thinking about the repercussions of this night, and whether or not it would spell doom in the future.

Zechs 34
Once back in the room, there was plenty of time to bang my head off the wall.
“Heero, what the hell did I just do?” I asked as Heero deposited the sleeping Quatre in the bedroom. I was glad the boy had slept through the most part of the meal, but his continued fatigue worried me. I wasn’t sure if it was because of stress, or his wounds, or his health, but whatever the reason I knew it couldn’t be good for him.
“I think you agreed to take in the Owner’s slave, Master,” Heero replied, coming back out.
“Yes, I know that, but why?” I wondered allowed, unsure myself of my sudden outburst. Only, looking into the boy’s eyes as the woman, his master, childishly tormented him, seeing the pride and control that lay inside that hard shell, how could I leave him in the hands of that woman? Could I stand back and watch such a proud creature be constantly henpecked and reduced to nothing?
“Because it might get you closer ties to the Owner?” Heero replied and I stopped for a moment. I hadn’t even thought of that. Then, a second later, I dismissed it, because there was still no guarantee that I would get to meet the Owner.
“No, because I’m stupid, that’s why! How am I ever going to handle another boy?”
“It is only for a week...”
“But from what Madam Long said he’s a terror! A nightmare! How am I supposed to control him?” I replied, almost panicked. What if I were wrong? What if what I had viewed as pride was really just pigheadedness and sloth? What then?
“I doubt he’s uncontrollable. He’s probably just strong-willed.”
“So he’s stubborn. That helps.”
“Master, I doubt he could be any worse than I was when you first got me,” Heero said, coming up beside me and putting his hand on my arm. “But I think we have bigger problems now.”
“What is it?” I asked, immediately serious and focused. “What happened?”
“Quatre’s medicine is wearing off. I think he might be sick,” Heero replied, his head lowered. “It’s probably nothing serious...”
I cut him off as I darted around him and rushed into the bedroom. Heero didn’t know it, but any kind of fever in someone suffering from large wounds could be a sign of infection, which I had been concerned about anyway. Quatre’s lowest wound was already red and inflamed, it would be no stretch to see it infected.
As I darted into the room, I prayed that Quatre was merely tired, but my hopes were in vain. Quatre’s face was flushed, his cheeks red with fever. I stood over him for a moment, forcing myself to calm down, before I leaned over and put a gentle hand on his forehead.
He was burning up.
Slowly, his clear blue eyes opened up, only this time they were foggy and muddled with confusion. They closed again before he could force them to remain open, then, with great effort, he moved them to my face.
“Mas’er?” he slurred sleepily, “Di’ th’ party end a’eady?”
“Yes, little one. You slept right through it. Tell me, do you think you can turn over so I can look at your back?”
“‘M tired. C’n we do it tom’rrow?”
“No, baby, we have to do it tonight. I’ll help, alright?” I asked, and slowly began to turn the boy over. He nodded, but was very little help in moving himself. I was very much alarmed by this behavior. I knew that an infection could set in very quickly, but I had never seen it happen before. I was justifiably alarmed for Quatre’s safety.
Once Quatre was turned over, I quickly pulled down the blankets to find that Heero had put him into pajamas. Ignoring this, I quickly pulled up the top of his clothes and pulled the tape off of the lowest wound, ignoring the other two. As I had feared, the wound was greatly inflamed, and was oozing a yellowish, sticky substance. I sighed and replaced the tape, leaving Quatre on his stomach as he drifted in and out of consciousness.
Heero met me in the doorway, worry etched into his face.
“Master?” he questioned anxiously. I sighed in response.
“Call the doctor. We’ve got to take Quatre to the hospital.”
“Is it that bad?”
“I don’t know, but it could be. I don’t have the skills or equipment to fight an infection, Heero. I won’t endanger Quatre over it, either. He’ll get the best care in the hospital.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Could you make the call for me? I think a need a drink,” I said, indicating the liquor cabinet in the livingroom.
“Of course,” Heero replied, and quickly went to the kitchen area to make the call. I sighed again, poured myself a glass of sherry, and flopped into an armchair. I wasn’t sure what was worse, my worry about Quatre’s health or my worry about his stay in the hospital. If I weren’t allowed to see him, then he would be truly alone for all that time. I knew that Quatre was a timid soul, and I had seen the tentative bonds he had been forming with Heero and myself. I worried that this long period of separation would destroy them. Quatre could feel abandoned, or neglected, and there was nothing I could do to fix it.

Quatre 36
I awoke to the shuffle of people moving around, and several voices speaking at once. Immediately I could tell that I was in master’s bedroom, in my night clothes, in Master’s bed. I had no idea why so many people were in master’s home, but I was too tired and too cold to care. All I wanted was the blankets at the bottom of the bed, and those were proving hard to get. My arms were heavy, and as I was reaching to get the blanket, master came into the room looking stern and serious.
“Master?” I questioned, “What’s wrong?”
He smiled for me, and came over to sit on the edge of the bed, but his eyes were still sad. “Nothing. How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” I lied, and he smiled again.
“Liar. You look horrible.”
“Thanks,” I murmured sarcastically, hoping he would play, but he simply ignored the comment and placed a hand on my forehead. It was freezing and I couldn’t help but shy away. That was when I realized what those voices outside meant to do.
“I have a fever again, don’t I?” I asked miserably. Master nodded. “I’m sorry. I really tried to...”
“Shh. It’s not you’re fault. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine. I didn’t take good enough care of you.”
I burst into tears.
“That’s not true! You were so good to me, and so kind, even though I’m useless! You took care of me even though I wasn’t worth it! I was lucky to get to meet you and I should be grateful for the time we had together! And I am! It’s my own stupid fault for getting sick! It’s no wonder you can’t take me anymore! Always in the way! Always a burden!” I sobbed, completely breaking down. I turned violently to the side in shame, hoping to hide my weakness.
“Quatre, what are you...?” master questioned, leaning over me, but was interrupted as a man barged through the door.
“Mister Marquis,” he huffed arrogantly, “I am aware that you are used to getting your way, but threatening the boy is not going to change anything.”
“I wasn’t...” master protested calmly.
“I don’t have time for this,” the angry man in a white uniform interrupted. “Now are you going to let me take him or not?”
“No!” I screamed, throwing myself at master, who was stunned by my outburst. For a moment, I feared that he’d punish me for such disruptive behavior, then I decided it would be a blessing if he did. He would have to keep me to punish me, not send me away to the storehouse to wait for a cruel master or death.
“Please!” I begged, clutching his shirt in my hands to keep from toppling over as I leaned on him, “please don’t send me away! I promise! I’ll be good!” I shouted, clinging to master as though I could hold myself to him.
“Quatre!” master snapped, taking me by the shoulder and shaking me, “Calm down! What are you talking about?”
But I was too far gone to listen. Instead, I continued to try to convince him to keep me, even as my sob grew strong and my face grew damp. “There are th-things I c-can d-do even now! I can h-help you! I can- I can- I-I c-c-can-” I stuttered, forgetting to breath in my panic. I heaved my chest, trying to make up for the lack of air, but it wouldn’t come to me.
“He’s hyperventilating!” the man in white shouted, rushing toward me. I let out an animalistic sound and shied behind master, hoping to hide from the other man.
“Stop it!” master growled, shielding me with his body, “You’re not helping!”
“Damnit!” the other man shouted, “You’ll kill him!”
“Just shut the hell up and get out!” master shouted, glaring at the other man, “Can’t you see I’m not hurting him? If you’re not going to get out of my way get out!” he snapped, then turned his attention to me. I looked up at him with fearful eyes as my vision started graying around the edges.
“Quatre,” he said calmly, his voice echoing through my world, silencing everything else as he moved me into his lap and sat on the bed. “Listen to me,” he murmured softly against my ear. It was difficult to turn my attention to him, as I was still wheezing for breath, but I did so, because I would have done anything he asked me at that moment so long as he didn’t send me away. “Listen to the sound of my heart,” he said, pulling my head to rest against his chest. The beats were soft and rhythmic, if a little quickened. “Now, I want you to breathe with me. Just forget everything else except for me. Now take it in. Feel it? Feel my chest rising? I want you to make yours do the same. Good. Now out. Slowly. Good. Now in again. Shh. It’s alright. Out. It’s alright, stop crying.”
Only as he said it did I realize that the tears were still flowing freely from my eyes, and I struggled for a moment to hold them in.
“Stop, never mind,” master said quickly, pulling my hands from my face. “I didn’t mean to make yourself stop crying, I just meant that you didn’t need to cry. Everything’s alright. You’re not in trouble.”
“Th-then w-why are you s-sending me away?” I asked, still crying softly.
“You need to go away, baby. I can’t take care something like this.”
“Kitten, I’m Dr. Hutch,” the man in the white coat said, kneeling beside us. “I’d like you to come with me, if that’s alright.” I had forgotten he was in the room. Suddenly, when he said his title, everything fell into place. I wasn’t being sold, I was being taken to the hospital. But, still, I was scared. The hospital was lonely and cold, and I didn’t want to leave master.
“I thought you were taking care of me?” I asked master, ignoring Dr. Hutch.
“I can’t fix this, little one. Your wound is infected, and there are too many things that could go wrong for me to keep you here. You won’t be gone long, I promise.”
“But I don’t want to leave you,” I pleaded, looking my master in the eye, hoping he wouldn’t make me go.
“Masters are forbidden in the hospital,” Dr. hutch interrupted. “But, I suppose... if you would like, the other slave could come visit you for an hour or so every day. What was his name? Angel?” the doctor asked, smiling kindly at me. “I know how slaves get lonely in the hospital. If your master would allow it, I think we could make it happen.”
It wasn’t master, but it was enough. I turned pleading eyes toward master, hoping he would allow it.
“Of course it’s fine with me, as long as you behave yourself and get better. Now, I think we’ve held Dr. Hutch up long enough. He’s got other patients to see,” master said, lifting me in his arms as he left the room. Out of the bedroom, there was a wheeled hospital bed waiting, along with tow orderlies to push it. The pulled back the covers as master tucked me into the bed, then belted me down after I was inside. I felt a little claustrophobic, being tied down like that, but I knew that it was simply so I didn’t fall out.
Before we left, I saw Dr. Hutch pull master aside.
“I think, perhaps, I underestimated you,” he admitted, looking my master in the eyes. “I’m so used to having violent, over powerful children who have broken their toys call me that I’ve forgotten how real people act. I hope you can forgive me, and understand why I must separate the two of you.”
“I do, and I thank you. If you take as good care of him as I think you will, we will have no further problems.”
“I don’t...” Dr. hutch began, but I was already being wheeled out of the room and missed the rest of the conversation. I tried to turn around for a moment, but I was just so tired that it didn’t seem worth the effort.

Zechs 37
“I don’t understand why you would treat the boy so poorly if you care for him,” Dr. Hutch said as Quatre was wheeled out the door.
“I don’t understand why you would work in this place if you obviously despise it so,” I replied, watching Quatre try to turn around before eventually giving up.
“Of course you know why I work here. The pay is good, and I had no other choice. But you, you’re rich and young. I just can’t see why you’d get into this sort of thing.”
“Money isn’t everything,” I replied. “Sometimes, to keep the wealth one has become accustomed to, one must gain prestige. That’s what I’m here for.”
“I see,” Dr. Hutch replied, his face showing great thought. “I suppose I can’t blame you. I’m no better myself. I only wish things could be different for these boys. They’re so very young,” he said sadly, walking out the door.
“Don’t worry,” I whispered at his back, “things will change soon enough.”
It was much later that night, or earlier the next morning I suppose, that I finally managed to settle my nerves. Heero had hidden in the slaves quarters when the doctor and his assistant had arrived, for he was still afraid of crowds and loud voices. He had only timidly appeared later, when they were gone, and he was still on edge, so I sent him to get a bath.
With Quatre gone and Heero out of the room, the room suddenly seemed large and bare, almost echoing, so filled with empty space. I allowed myself to fall into the armchair, the stress from the earlier situation finally hitting me in full. I placed a hand on my head, and simply tried to let my mind wander.
The shower turned off a few minutes later, and Heero approached a few minutes after that, his hair still wet, dressed in his sleeping clothes. I could tell from his movements that he was concerned for me.
“Master?” he questioned, “What are you doing?”
“Just thinking,” I said, leaning back in the chair. Heero took this as an invitation, and curled up on my lap, putting his head, and wet hair, against my chest.
“About what?”
“Scores,” I told him with a smile, “I’m trying to tally everything in my head.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Well, you see, first I got you, so that’s a plus one, right?” I explained, “But then you ran away, so that’s a minus one. Only I found you again, so thats another plus one. Then I got Quatre, but he was hurt, so that’s a plus one half. But I was promised another slave, so that’s another one half, I think, until I actually get him. Then I lost Quatre, which is a minus one. Then I promised to take Dragon, which I can’t decide if it’s a plus or a minus, but it’s something. So I guess I’m just trying to figure out of I’ve gained, lost, or broke even so far. Either way it doesn’t seem that any of my choices have been right lately. And I still don’t know what you were angry with me for, but I’m sure that’s another minus and I just don’t think I can take that tonight so we’ll just have to worry about it tomorrow. I don’t know, I guess I’m just feeling low,” I finished lamely, stroking Heero’s back as he listened silently. “I suppose we should get to bed. We have several parties tomorrow, don’t we? And I’m sure you’ll be called to see Quatre. Come on, then, let’s get you to bed,” I coaxed, simply lifting Heero from the chair and carrying him to bed instead of making us both get up.
“Master,” Heero called hesitantly from the bed as I was dressing, “I just want you to know that... if you were really making all these bad choices, I’m sure Quatre wouldn’t have fought so hard to stay like that. I don’t know what the score is, but I know that you’re ahead by a lot. I wish you could understand how grateful we are to be with you,” he said, his eyes never leaving the blanket that he fidgeted in his hands. I smiled softly at him and climbed into bed, spooning up against him.
“And I wish you could know how much I’d like to give you. Someday, I’ll show you all the good things you’ve missed out on in this dreadful place. I promise you.”
To seal the promise, I gave Heero a deep kiss, then pulled him onto my chest and slowly dosed away, completely content.