Cages

Zechs 63
As soon as I awoke the next morning, I received word that Dragon, my newest acquisition, was coming later that day. This news came along with a note from the renowned Owner of Collar, the man I needed to meet in order to end this hellish mission.
Heero had already left early in the morning to train and to restock the refrigerator, something I hadn’t remembered he did until he asked me if there as anything I wanted. It seemed I had truly overlooked the workload my first slave had put on himself. Along with spending three hours every morning training to get himself back into shape for Collar, Heero also kept the refrigerator and cupboards stocked with food, made sure the entire apartment was clean, washed everyone’s casual clothes, and handled the dry cleaning of everyone’s costumes. He had been the one to buy sleep wear and casual clothing for both Quatre and Trowa, and had made sure each of them wore the collar with my insignia. I hadn’t even thought he knew about them, and never would have remembered if he hadn’t asked me to purchase more, since we only had one left. He handled pretty much everything, and still had time to accompany me to parties in the evening.
It made me glad I had taken in Trowa, for the extra weight of Quatre’s care would have been far too much for Heero. And Trowa was an excellent nursemaid to Quatre. He was gentle, kind, and patient. Also, though he was still physically pretty strong, he was recovering from Duke’s treatment, and had no problem sleeping as much as Quatre, who required a lot of rest to recover from his wounds. Heero would have volunteered to nurse Quatre in a heartbeat, but the constant hours of nothing to do would have driven him batty.
Despite the fact that my slaves had once again settled to new arrangements, I worried about bringing another slave into the mix. Quatre, for all his progress, was still a little skittish around me, and I didn’t think I had his full trust quite yet. Trowa was still settling, though he seemed to have adjusted pretty well, I worried that another slave might send him back into his shell. But Heero was the one I was most worried about. The addition of Trowa had given Quatre another friend, leaving less time for him to be with Heero. It wasn’t so much that Heero was jealous of Trowa as he was terrified of losing Quatre, who was his first real friend. I worried that adding yet another slave would upset him more, and maybe make him question his relationship with me.
But, despite all my reasons for not accepting another slave, I had already made the choice, and there was no way I could back out of it now. By dusk, the Dragon would be mine, and all I could do was to prepare myself, so I checked to make sure my two slaves were sleeping and, knowing that Heero would be gone several more hours, I sat down in the kitchen to read the Owner’s note.

Greetings, Master Zechs. I hope these times find you well and prosperous. I must admit, it feels strange to bestow my prized Dragon upon a perfect stranger, and yet what I have seen of your temperament and the treatment of your own slaves, along with the recommendations of the other masters, I believe you are trustworthy. Though you do not know who I am, it feels as though we are intimately acquainted.
And so, I will spare no time with flowery words. Your only concern for the time being is my Dragon, and so I will enlighten you to him. He is headstrong, arrogant, and defiant to all master so far but myself. He is proud and honorable, and I trust him explicitly in that his honor will not allow him to lie or make false promises. If he tells me that you have mistreated him, I will believe him, because he would not lie even to save his own life.
There are many rumors as to what I allow a master to do with my slave. I shall clarify now what your role is to be; For as long as Dragon is in your possession, he is your slave. You may punish him in any way that you see fit, save that you may not scar him, nor may you starve him for more than three days at a time, and after which point he must be fed regularly for a week.
There is only one way to gain the obedience of my Dragon. In a one on one fight, you must over power him physically, or master his mind in a game of Chess or Go. Only by dominating him in one of his two areas may you win his submission, and only then may you bed him. His honor dictates that he bend to your will if you best him, and he will no longer fight you. If you are not able to best him, he will remain civil, but he will ignore many or all of your orders. He is a constant challenge to masters who cannot defeat him.
Let me caution you, I will not allow an unfair fight against my Dragon. You may not drug him before the battle, nor may you give yourself any drugs. If you have a slave fight in your place, that slave must not have any enhancements in his body. The fight must be hand-to-hand, or with blunted swords, to ensure that Dragon is not scarred.
Dragon is a scholar, master of the martial arts, and has taken several first places in Collar. To defeat him in a fair fight one must be strong, with a quick mind, and a fighting style that can bend to the weakness of an opponent. Dragon has only ever once been bested, and that was by myself.
Because of his strength and his association with me, Dragon is often attacked, sometimes even in his bed, by slaves or masters who wish to gain my attention. You may be careful to lock your door to keep these invaders out, but do not take too much trouble on Dragon’s behalf. He is well able to take care of himself, and may feel the suffering if he is not. A salve unable to defend itself is useless to me. As long as he is not delivered into the hands of those who can harm him, he must be able to watch out for himself.
I wish you luck.
Owner.

Zechs 64
The boy arrived around dusk, a few hours later. My slaves had finished breakfast and Quatre and Trowa had gone back to sleep, while Heero had run off to get the dry-cleaning. I carefully closed the bedroom door before answering the doorbell, hoping the other two would no wake and come to investigate. I felt I needed to address Dragon on my own first.
It was the same boy as the other night that I opened the door to now. He was still withdrawn from our world, seeming as though he could not be bothered to come down to our plane. There was a haughty air around him, a sullen demeanor the showed a reluctance to be in my presence. Still, underneath all that I again saw a proud, lonely, pained young boy. He had not allowed himself to be broken by the trials of slavery, and I respected him for that.
And now, I would crush him because of it.
“Dragon,” I said, motioning for him to enter. He did so without hesitation, without any kind of self-confidence, and without any kind of gratitude towards me. No, he was not like my other slaves at all.
“I suppose the Owner has contacted you,” he said, glaring at me, his nose tilted just lightly upward, as though I were dirty.
“He has,” I responded passively. I would not be drawn into a battle on his ground. No, he would meet me on even turf.
“Then you know that I will not submit to you so readily. You must beat me in strength or intelligence for me to become your slave and allow you to whip me like a dog. If you expect me to lie on my back for you like a woman, you had better be skilled in the arts of war,” he said, sneering at me. But I would not let him rile me. I knew well what his game was, and I had anticipated from his entrance that he would attempt to antagonize me. If I were to lose control during the battle, I would have no chance to win against him. Even now, as I saw the way his body naturally moved with a fighter’s grace, I worried about the outcome of the fight.
“We shall find out soon enough,” I promised. “Are you ready to begin our fight?” I asked. He glanced around the room, then moved into a defensive stance. I laughed at him. “If you don’t mind, I would prefer to keep my furniture as it is. I’m certain we can find an empty room in the gym,” I commented, still smiling with tense mirth. Dragon snarled, blushing bright red. Inadvertently, I was already one ahead of him in the fight, for he was slightly unsettled, and I was still calm. “Let me tell my slaves that I am going,” I said, tilting my head toward the bedroom. He rose, cautiously, from his fighting stance, then nodded once, as though I needed his permission.
It was infuriating, his actions toward me, since I was taller, older, and higher ranking, but on another level it was deeply satisfying. It was the first time in almost a month that another person had challenged me, disrespected me, talked back to me, or anything else that normal interactions created every day. It was as aggravating as it was refreshing.
I quickly slipped into the bedroom, leaving Dragon in the hall, and crossed the room to Trowa’s side. He and Quatre were curled together, so much so that I had to be extra careful shaking Trowa’s shoulder as not to wake Quatre. I needn’t have bothered, though, as Trowa’s eye snapped open upon my first touch.
“I’m going out for a while,” I whispered to him, “take care of Quatre, and ask Heero to make the necessary excuses for tonight, as I don’t believe I will be going out. Make sure you eat dinner, and give Quatre his pills after he eats. Don’t let Heero try to come find me, alright?” I asked, and Trowa merely nodded his head, taking in my words without questioning my actions. I smiled to myself as I rose, wondering what Dragon’s response would have been had I posed the same proposition to him. I didn’t doubt his reply would have used several expletives, and probably required me to kiss a currently covered part of his body. Not that I would mind, for, despite or possibly because of his proud demeanor, he was quite beautiful to behold. With his golden skin and raven hair, he was like an oriental deity, and his perfect fighter’s physique only added to his allure. His stance gave off a masculine feel, while his height and size radiated submission. It was what every master dreamed of, the challenge of subduing a gorgeous and powerful slave.
My dreams were far from breaking the soul of a beautiful boy, but I found that I would probably be attempting it soon anyway. Would there be any way for the boy to remain in tact, if I were to defeat him? Certainly he had survived the Owner’s domination, but there had been no master since who had defeated him. The match itself would be a close draw, but I was fairly confident that I could defeat the boy. After all, I was older, larger, stronger, and with more experience. While the boy had obviously studied hard and looked quick and graceful, it seemed from his tough demeanor that he would have trouble quickly changing fighting styles. I could use that to my advantage. But... I dreaded seeing the fire behind those eyes smolder into nothing. But could I really risk keeping him, endangering my other slaves, if he would not listen to me? The disrespect I could handle, as angry subordinates often cursed their superiors under their breaths, but I would never allow a subordinate who even hesitated to obey my orders anywhere near a battle. Was this so different?
All this passed through my mind on the short walk from the bedroom to the den, where Dragon still stood, impatiently awaiting my return.

Zechs 65
The trip to the gymnasium was taken in silence, and upon arriving I found that a room had already been reserved by the Owner for just such an occasion. It was not huge, but imitated a dojo, right down to the padded floor. It would make fighting easy, while minimizing the risk of injury to either Dragon or myself. One of the slaves at the door offered to referee the fight, but I turned him down. I wasn’t worried that Dragon would seriously injure me if he had the chance, for he seemed honorable enough, and I knew that I would refrain from injuring him. I also didn’t want any interruptions in our battle, for only with a true battle could I prove my superiority. There would be no rules in this battle save to fight honorably, and the outcome would conclusively prove the superior man.
“Weapons or no?” I asked, indicating the wall of blunted practice weapons. He merely hmphed and picked up a dull broadsword. I smiled, then choose a rapier and tested it for weight and balance. Finding it substandard, I chose another, finding this one to be suitable. Our weapons may have been comical to an onlooker, for I, the large, had chosen a small rapier, while he, clearly smaller, had chosen a large, heavy sword. But there was nothing humorous enough to entice a smile from either of us, and I wondered if the stone-faced youth before me had ever smiled.
We faced each other and bowed solemnly, each eyeing the other for weaknesses or flaws. Tension was high. Despite the fact that these weapons were blunted, they could still cause serious damage, or even death. But there was more than simply wounds on the line. We were fighting for pride, honor, and superiority. One to gain mastery, one to avoid servitude. Polar opposites of the same strength.
I hoped that my small, light rapier could find its way around his heavy sword, as speed would most likely be my main weakness in our battle, now one of my strengths. Dragon, likewise, had chosen a weapon that used strong attacks, to offset the fact that I was stronger. On the one hand, a direct blow from hi sword to mine would definitely cause mine to break, but if I could cause him to lower his sword for only a second I could win before he had time to pull his weapon back up. There was no way to tell who was at an advantage.
Dragon made the first move, as I knew he would, young and impatient as he was. He struck at me with the heavy sword, but because of the weapon’s weight it was to slow to catch me, and I easily slid out of the way. I hoped to end the battle right there, by brining my sword to strike Dragon as his was still descending and, unable to turn the heavy weight so quickly, I would have had him had he not moved his body behind the sword, using it almost like a pointed shield. My blow missed him and met with startling strength of his sword. The reverberations of my sword went all the way up my arm and caused me to fumble for a moment, unable to feel my hand or get a proper grip on my sword. Dragon used this to his advantage and quickly swung his sword at me. I had not choice but to awkwardly throw myself out of the way. Those few seconds that I fled, however, allowed the feeling to return to my fingers, and I once again gained a hold on my sword. When he rushed me the second time, I was able to parry his blow, sending him stumbling past me with too much force. Concerned that he would hurt himself by falling on his own sword, I attempted to put my hand on his shoulder, but instead ran it down his back as he hurled himself to the side. He landed on his bottom, the sword beside him, which was actually a better position than landing with his sword under him would have been had it not been for the fact that he was obviously flustered.
“Don’t touch me, kisama!” he yelled, his eyes blazing with fury, that I had dared to touch his person.
Ah. So that was his weak point. I may have underestimated him, since he obviously could handle a sword like a master, but he was only human.
“Afraid of a little human contact, Dragon?” purred, intentionally riling him. He, as I expected, bushed deeply and growled.
“Brazen cur!” he shouted, leaping at me. He brought his sword up in a smooth arc and sent it crashing down to the floor where I had been standing only a moment before. As I dodged sleekly behind him, I let my hand trail down his back, and gave his firm rear a quick pinch. He roared in anger, barely bothering to pick his sword up from the ground before bringing it around and trying to slices at my legs. He face was bright red and he was snarling like an angered animal.
I laughed, although it hurt me to have to do such a thing to him. Behind the anger that he hid behind, there was real fear and shame, and I felt like a cad for causing him to feel that way. I didn’t so much feel bad about my method, for in a game of war the only true rule is to use your enemy’s weakness against him, but I gained no pleasure in touching his body only to provoke him.
As his arm was across his chest, carried there by the momentum of his sword, I grabbed his wrist and dodged in, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. Though it was merely a peck, he jumped as though I had licked him, then scrubbed his face with his free hand.
“You won’t own me!” he shouted, rushing me again.
“You’re already owned!” I responded, again dodging his blow. This time, as he went passed me, I managed to thrust my elbow into his diaphragm, knocking him off balance. He stumbled and almost fell onto me, but scrambled so hard the he twisted his ankle to make sure he fell away from me. He hit the matted floor with a thud and I paused to make certain he was alright, but he was on his feet again in mere seconds, favoring his injured foot visibly.
Now, with his injury, it was clear that he was on the defensive, and I had the visible advantage. Since my weapon was quick and his was slow, he had banked on being able to come at me, to put me on the defensive, so that I could not use my quick moves to get behind his. Despite this, he was able to dodge or shield my blows for several minutes, visibly becoming tired as the heavy sword weighted him down. The broadsword was made for short battles, while a rapier fight could go on for hours.
His fateful mistake came from desperation, as he could see that I would merely wear him down if he stayed defensive. So, impetuously, he turned aside my blow and attempted to strike his own, working with tired muscles, and in close combat. Easily I brought my sword around his and cracked his knuckles with the flat side of my rapier, knocking the sword from his hand, then used my shoulder to shove him away from where the sword had fallen, so that he could not leap to retrieve it. By the time he hit the floor, my sword was already at his throat.

Zechs 66
He stared up at me from the floor, as though he could not possibly imagine what had just happened. His eyes followed the tip of my sword up the blade, and then my arm, and to my face, where they finally came to rest with an unbelieving sort of look. And then the realization hit him, and he lowered his eyes, the color draining out of his face.
I knelt in front of him, between his splayed legs as he reclined on his elbows. My sword lay where I had dropped it, his where it had fallen, and both weapons seemed forgotten.
“The conditions have been met,” I said, my voice cracking like thunder through the silent room. Only the sound of our breathing could be heard, like rain in the background. “I am now your master, and you will obey me as such. I promise that I will not scar or starve you, but anything else is mine to command. You belong to me for the duration that you stay with me. Your mind and body are mine.”
I leaned close to him, watching his eyes as he nodded unfeelingly. They were blank, and I worried for a moment that he would go into shock, but he was not shaking, so I decided it was merely disbelief.
“Open you mouth,” I told him in a softer, still commanding tone, “I will taste you.”
He opened his mouth only slightly, so that it now looked as though he were agape as well. Still, I leaned in close and kissed him passionately, letting my tongue explore the caverns of his mouth. He allowed it, but would not participate, instead remaining passively still. I pulled away with a sigh. I should have known that it was far too early to seduce him, but I the battle had left me enlivened, and I hoped to prove to him that my touch was not so bad. I pulled back, knowing that to force him after such a battle would only make my touch more repulsive, and that was not my intent at all.
I changed my focus to his ankle, which he had twisted in our battle. As I lifted it, I could see that it was beginning to swell, but Dragon did not comment on any pain. I couldn’t tell from his face if he was experiencing emotional or physical pain, so I decided it would be best to make sure it wasn’t broken. With that in mind, I knew I would have to remove his pants, for there were tight cuffs around his ankles, which would easily cut off circulation if the ankle were to swell any more.
“These will have to go,” I told him, and he lifted his hips to help me remove them without looking at my face. I pulled them down, then carefully pulled them from his ankle. Looking at it a second time, I decided it was merely sprained, and decided to deal with it later.
It was only then that I realized Dragon was clenching his jaw and, worried that something else was injured, I quickly ran my hands over his body.
“Dragon?” I questioned, since I could not find anything wrong but he was coiling even tighter as I spoke.
“Are you going to do it, too? Are you going to take me right here on the floor, like an animal?” he growled, his voice cracking with emotion. He looked at me then, his eye mildly insane with the terror of memory. “I’ll spread my legs for you, if that’s what you want. You’ve proven that you can make me. I know what’s coming now, so you won’t even have to hold me down. Not like... Like he did.”
“Who?” I wondered, pitying the creature in front of me.
“Who do you think?” he snapped, glaring daggers at me.
“Ah,” I replied. The only man who had beaten him before. The Owner. “I’m not going to take you now.”
He turned his face from me with a despairing laugh.
“Should I thank you for the privilege of being accosted in a bedroom instead of an arena? Will there be others to view my disgrace in your home? If so, I’d rather be fucked here, on the dirty floor.”
“Enough,” I snapped, quickly tiring of the melodrama which struck far too close to the core of my guilt. “Where I fuck you, and when, and with whom watching, are none of your concern,” I snapped at him, then hastily regretted my decision. I felt vaguely ill, and my face must have certainly resembled Dragon’s, as I realized just how like a true master I sounded. “We’ll speak of this later,” I commented again, in a softer tone as I lifted him from the floor. He was rigid in my arms, his face red with furry and embarrassment.
“Must you humiliate me as well?” he growled from my arms.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I responded. “You’re ankle is sprained. You cannot possibly walk back to the room on it.”
“Pain in my leg is much better than pain in my soul,” he responded, “I am not weak.”
“Perhaps not weak,” I bantered, “but certainly foolish to walk all that way for mere pride.”
“You know nothing of me!” he snapped. “Nor of your slaves! The most prized possession of any slave if pride, and the first piece of them ripped away by their masters as well!”
“Hush,” I chided, “You know less of slavery than I. At least I know that pride is the last thing any person thinks of with an empty belly and a whip at their backs. I do not do this to break your soul, I do this to keep you from breaking your ankle. Now, I command you to be silent.”
He huffed, but his honor would not let him refuse a command, now that I had met our agreement. I was pleased that he had not broken to me, but concerned still. He had no respect for me, and I still could not be sure he wouldn’t prove to be a detriment to my mastery. I could not let my reputation suffer, however I doubted Dragon could do that much damage in a week. After that, if he still proved to be too much of a handful, I could merely refuse to take him again.
It was quiet as I left the dojo, with Dragon fuming in my arms. His pants had been haphazardly tossed over my shoulder, but the longer boxers he wore seemed almost prudish amongst all the naked boys. Still, we received several stares as I returned to the room, and I had no doubt that word of this walk would soon spread to the rest of Collar. On the one hand, I knew it would be good for my reputation, but on the other I had truly not wanted to embarrass Dragon. Still, there was no way for him to walk, so there really hadn’t been much of a choice.

Wufei 67
My new master was a brute, I was sure of it. Oh, there was the blood of an aristocrat in him, of that I had no doubt. The set of his jaw was familiar to me, and I could almost remember the name of the noble family that he came from. It was certainly not Marquis, to be sure. His hair was the color of shimmering gold, and extended halfway down his back, in a style of decadence and deliberate uselessness that only a noble could allow. My own hair was long as well, and a raven black color, but only long enough to pull back into a ponytail. The ponytail kept it out of my way, while having it long allowed me to go for several months without being hindered by the need for a haircut. Efficiency to extravagance, myself to my master.
Still, I could not help but notice in battle how it had attracted my eye away from his sword. The glittering strands of hair were hard not to watch as they danced around his graceful movements. A lesser man could become distracted by them, but I had merely found them an annoyance. Still, there was the possibility that I had misjudged his hair, and I allowed myself to contemplate this possibility.
I had not, however, misjudged Zechs Marquis, my new master. He was handsome, obviously, with a regal bearing and soulful blue eyes. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. A demon in the body of an angel.
His home, and his slaves, were different from those I had been to before. There was a tranquility about the place, a calmness. This peace was not to be confused with silence, which is often charged with terror as slaves tiptoe around their master. It was instead a genuine feeling of... serenity that I hadn’t experienced since I had come to Collar, and even long before.
The slaves were disgustingly submissive to Master Zechs. The oriental one, Heero, greeted us at the door and seemed genuinely concerned for Zechs’ well-being. How many times had the blonde master beat his slave to create just such a reaction? How much pain had instilled into the slave a caring for the master, since the master’s fate was his own?
The other two, a small blonde named Quatre and a tall youth named Trowa, remained curled on the couch, but anxiously awaited their master. They watched as he placed me on a loveseat, then the blonde questioned, “What’s wrong with him?”
I braced myself for a harsh reply, wondering if I, or one of the other slaves, would be able to step in one the other’s behalf. Quatre was delicate, and looked weak already, obviously from a cruel punishment from the master.
“He twisted his ankle while we were sparing,” Zechs replied calmly, moving away from where he had placed me.
“Will he be alright?” Quatre asked as Zechs sauntered into the kitchen and opened the freezer.
“He should be,” Zechs commented as he returned, “he only sprained it. Still, it could use a wrap, if we have any in the first aid kit. Other than that it just needs ice and for him to stay off his feet. It should be fine in a couple of days.”
I repressed the urge to snap a quip about his medical knowledge, or lack thereof, as Zechs placed an icepack on my swollen ankle. It was... strange, that he had gotten it himself and not ordered one of the others to fetch it. But then, perhaps he had wanted me to see him do it, to gain my trust. It would take a lot more than an icepack to force trust from me.
The evening passed quickly, though nothing really happened. Zechs had ordered chicken from the kitchen for dinner, which arrived only a few minutes later. There was a bar in the kitchen, and we all ate there, including me, who Zechs insisted on carrying to and from the seat. The slaves were all permitted to eat their fill which wasn’t overly strange, though some masters would regulate the diets of their slaves to keep them slim. Others would simply overwork them, or starve them if they gained too much weight. I wasn’t sure which method Zechs had chosen, but from the look of the tall one I would assume starvation.
Once the meal was over and I was returned to the couch, Zechs had Heero fetch the medical kit, and proceeded to tightly wrap my ankle with bandages. The swelling had gone down, and it felt a little better, but Zechs still frowned as he appraised it.
“It’s not as bad as I thought, but you’ll still have limited walking capabilities. I won’t have to carry you around all the time, though, as long as you stay inside,” he said. Ah. So he was disappointed that he would not have to carry me. At least he hadn’t lied about it, though, which was something I wouldn’t have put past him. Or perhaps he was disappointed that I wasn’t incapable of running if he tried to rape me. Not that I would run. I had lost to him. I did not deserve to escape.
He moved away, then, and went over to speak with Heero, but their conversation was too far away for me to overhear. The little blonde was sitting on the couch in the lap of the taller boy, yawing and visibly tired. He did not ask his master to allow him to sleep, though, even as he began to doze off. I would have growled if I had not been exhausted. The blonde was serving no purpose, why wouldn’t Zechs let him go to bed?
As I wondered this, I glanced over at Zechs, who was frowning at Quatre. I tensed, expecting Zechs to yell at him for almost falling asleep.
“Trowa,” Zechs snapped, “Take Quatre to bed.”
Trowa nodded once and rose fluidly, lifting Quatre in his arms. The boy was graceful, and strong, with the body of a gymnast. I wondered curiously if it was natural or if he had been formally trained. Or maybe a combination of the two.
“Master!” Quatre whined, “I’m not sleepy!”
“Ah. So those dark circles around your eyes are because you’re part raccoon, I’ll suppose,” Zechs said, smiling as he tapped the end of Quatre’s nose playfully.
“Master,” Quatre pouted, “Will you at least come to bed soon?”
“Sure. Actually, we might as well all go to bed. It’s less than five days until the end of Collar, and you’ll all have to get used to normal time again. Heero, go ahead in and turn down the covers for me, please.”
The three slaves departed, and I suddenly realized that they were all headed for the same room. Not that other master’s didn’t have three or four slaves sleep with them at the same time, but as Zechs only had three slaves I hadn’t thought that they would all be sleeping together. I hadn’t thought about what... crude, dirty things might be going on inside that room. But what Zechs did with his three slaves was none of my...
...But... he didn’t have three slaves anymore... did he? He had... four... Did he expect me to... to... right in front of the other three? With him right there? I wouldn’t! I couldn’t! Even the owner had never... never made me.... in front of a crowd! Or worse yet, I could be expected to... to do that!... right with them! All of us at once!
I felt ill as Zechs dropped to his knees beside me.
“I won’t be a part of your licentious bed!” I hissed. “I am enslaved only to you, I will not corrupt and deprave others who have done nothing wrong!”
“Dragon...”
“I won’t be a part of this... this debauchery!”
“Listen...”
“How dare you call yourself a human, much less a man!”
“Dragon, you must understand...”
“If you had any soul at all you would rip off your own testicles rather than entwine yourself in such depravity!”
“Now, see here...”
“You’re a soulless monster! You may rape my body, but you will never have my mind! I won’t dirty others with the filth you have covered me with! I will not sleep in your bed...!”
“Fine!” Zechs yelled, cutting me off. “Then sleep in the damn slave’s quarters! Do whatever the fuck you want!” he yelled, standing in a rush and storming toward his room, where he slammed the door shut with a bang.
I stared after him for a minute, so relieved that I could barely stand it. Even walking on my twisted ankle, as I was forced to once Zechs was gone, could not dampen my spirits, nor could the tiny bed, or the coarse sheets.
The idea of waking, however, depressed me greatly, as I suddenly realized that I would yet again wake a slave, only this time to an angry master. I had won the battle, yes, but the war was already over, and I had lost. In the morning, I would still be faced with an angry overlord controlling my life, and I had no one to blame but myself, and my weakness.

Wufei 68
I stared after him for a minute, so relieved that I could barely stand it. Even walking on my twisted ankle, as I was forced to once Zechs was gone, could not dampen my spirits, nor could the tiny bed, or the coarse sheets.
The idea of waking, however, depressed me greatly, as I suddenly realized that I would yet again wake a slave, only this time to an angry master. I had won the battle, yes, but the war was already over, and I had lost. In the morning, I would still be faced with an angry overlord controlling my life, and I had no one to blame but myself, and my weakness.
A stronger man would have born it, internalized it, analyzed it, and become stronger for it. But a stronger man would have never allowed himself to become entrapped in such a situation in the first place. A stronger man would have been able to save his honor.
But I was not a strong man. At best, I felt like a weak boy. Thinking of what my “master” was doing to his slaves, mere children, beaten and corrupted by the evils of men, in the other room, being forced into whatever vile acts he wanted them to perform. They had not run, like cowards, to hide under the covers like a small child.
I couldn’t help but think, suddenly and with guilt, that I had abandoned the other slaves. Would they hate me now? They had reason to, as their master would most likely take his anger and frustration out on them. I had been the outsider before, and often, but it was different now that these were truly my peers under my master. Were he to beat me, or rape me, or hurt me very badly, I might need their help. I doubted that the Owner’s order not to wound me would hold up as well once we were in the privacy of Zechs’ home. It hadn’t with the other masters who had tried to force me into heeding them, but I had always been smart or strong enough to evade them. Now I could not resist. My honor, whatever I had left, would not allow it.
It broke me, to think of my own weakness, and the strength of the other slaves, to bear up under such conditions as these. My tears were silent, and my sobs non-existent as I vented the pain of slavery imposed on myself and those around me. I buried my head in the pillow, turning my head to the side to breath, gasping and sobbing almost silently. This pain, could any man bear it? The chains I was confined by, they burned my skin and tormented my soul. I wished I would die, but my honor would not let me end my suffering by taking my own life. What little honor I had left.
Spent from my period of weakness, I fell into a deep slumber. I hadn’t slept so deeply since I was last with the Owner, because I could not trust the other masters not to attack me in my sleep. Now, it did not matter. I had lost to Zechs, so if I could sleep through his depraved acts I would be more than pleased, but I doubted I could. The acts would be as painful as they were humiliating.
With that thought, I allowed myself to pass out. At least my dreams were not trapped by the confines that caged my body, and I slept deep and well.
Which, in retrospect, was in fact my downfall.
It was hours later, in the point of deepest darkness just before the dawn, that I noticed something moving outside my realm of consciousness, but I dreaded waking to find that it was my perverted master, reading himself to use me. My eyes were heavy, puffed from crying and sticky from where the tears had dried. I loathed opening them to the gruesome reality.
There was a crackling noise, and I pulled myself a plane closer to consciousness, but was yet unable to fully wake. The crackling stopped, and I was about to let myself drift into a deeper sleep when I felt someone touch my neck, and something being stuck to it, like a sticker.
I was immediately awake. I glared above me, readying myself to scream profanities at that bastard Zechs, but I halted in fear at the sight above me. Instead of my master, there was a stranger standing above me, wrapped in black, a maniacal grin on his face.
“The mistress wants your skin!” he hissed, revealing a long dagger in his left hand.
I tried to retaliate. I attempted to lash out at him with a powerful kick, but what I managed was to haphazardly toss my body to the side. For some reason, my body would not obey the commands I gave to it. What was wrong with me?
“I thought you were smart!” the stranger laughed, “how the hell can you not know there’s a down patch on your neck?” he asked. A down patch was used to subdue or sedate wayward slaves. I only had a few seconds before I would be completely unable to move.
Gathering all my strength and the concentration I had learned through meditation, I aimed one solid kick at him. I had hoped to kick his hand, to remove the knife from his possession, though I wasn’t sure what I would have done after that. Instead, I only managed to knock him backwards, into the dresser and causing him to knock over a lamp, which shattered loudly.
“Bitch!” the stranger hissed, bringing the knife down in a slow arc. I managed to twist out of the way, but the blade still cut the tender flesh of my thigh. The pain pierced me, but I could no longer move my mouth to scream. In another moment, I could not move at all.
And standing above me, a dim light radiating from an unknown source to glimmer from his bloody weapon, was the stranger. I was helpless at his mercy, which I doubted he had much of. I would be skinned alive.
Please, someone help me!

Zechs 69
I was pissed at myself for yelling at Dragon. I was pissed at Dragon for yelling at me. I was pissed at the situation for causing this problem. But, most of all, I was pissed at the ring of truth and untruth in Dragon’s comments.
I was not going to rape him, but I was going to seduce him. I did not force my slaves into sex, but I did make them all the same. Most of all, despite the fact that I was truly trying to help the boys I had taken into my care, I still felt dirty from the acts I was forced to perform in order to save them. Could my good intentions overshadow the horrible deeds I was forced to participate in?
It didn’t help that, as soon as I entered the bedroom upon having the fight with Dragon, all eyes turned to me with concern and an innocent trust that made me nauseous. I wanted so badly to free my young slaves, and I felt almost as though I had failed them. It could take years to meet the Owner, and I doubted I could last one if I continued to feel as strongly for the boys as I did.
But how could I not feel this way? They were my subordinates, my partners, my guides, and my lovers. I relied on them for everything from how to act to what to wear, Heero especially. They had every reason to hate me, and yet the trusted me, perhaps even cared for me. And I could not deny that I loved each of them in turn. Perhaps not the love of a husband, nor that of a brother, but a love so strong and true that I doubted I could compare it to any other kind. It was a love born of trust and hope in a situation of desperation.
I sighed as I lay down next to Heero, who welcomed me into his arms. Quatre pressed his cheek against my back, and Trowa lay a hand over Quatre’s hip to rest on my side. How could they not hate me, as Dragon did? How could they be so willing to accept me, after all they had been through?
But I could not begrudge any happiness they gained from me. I did not understand it, but I would rather bite off my own tongue than take it away from them. After all they had been through, that they could trust enough to find solace in each other and happiness with me was truly a compliment to their natures, and to the human soul.
I sat up, pulling Heeor with me, and the other two moved in closer, thinking I had something to say. Instead, I gave Heero a kiss on the lips, then Trowa, then one to Quatre on the forehead, for he and I had not become intimate yet, and I did not want to imply that I was forcing the issue. They looked at each other, confused I’m sure, as I settled back down into the bed, but eventually shrugged it off. Quatre and Trowa laid back down, this time with Quatre’s back against mine, so that he could bury his face in Trowa’s chest. Heero curled back into my arms, resting his chin against my chest as Quatre had. I loved to hold Heero like this, but I almost wished it were not so. With Quatre now with Trowa, soon to become lovers I was sure, it only made me see how reliant Heero was on me. But I was not an equal in his eyes, and so could never truly be a normal lover to him. He needed someone on his level, who was neither above or below him, to give him an equal respect and love. But I still had time to worry about that. For now I would merely enjoy having him in my arms, knowing that some day it would not be so.
Later that night, I awoke to a strange noise in the den, but ignored it. It could easily have been Dragon, and I couldn’t take those accusing eyes. I curled closer to Heero, who was unaffected by the noise, but could not find sleep again. Those dark, brown orbs stared at me angrily from the deep recesses of my mind. Worse yet was when they looked up at me with hurt and fear. They haunted me, and if to do nothing more than banish them, I slipped quietly out of bed.
In the doorway, I heard a clatter and a thud from Dragon’s room. Thinking he had stumbled in the darkness, I hurried to his room. No lights were on, which I had initially assumed was because he had not wished to wake the rest of the household, but there was a dim light coming from beneath his door. Someone mumbled angrily, but it didn’t sound like Wufei’s voice. The accent was wrong.
Warning signals went off in my head, and I sprinted the rest of the way, throwing open the door and striking on the light. The sight before me made my breath catch. Dragon was on his back, his eyes glazed, as a strange figure in black hovered over him, a dagger in his hand. The figure turned to me and grinned.
He was a beautiful man, of no more than thirty, with hazel eyes that glowed of madness. His hair was covered by a heavy hood, as was the rest of him. There was the outline of a collar in his clothes around his neck, and I had no trouble believing such a shapely person had been purchased, for he was well muscled in the shoulders, thin from the chest down, with long legs and strong thighs. And, accepting that he was a slave, I had no trouble believing also that he had gone mad under some sadistic master.
In a second, his grin disappeared and he rushed at me, holding the blade before him. I moved to the side and just barely missed being struck in the ribs. I shoved the man from behind, using his momentum to knock him off balance. He struck the wall beside the door and gave out a loud yell.
There was a thundering of feet from outside the room as the assailant rose, aiming his dagger for another strike.
“Trowa!” I yelled, “Keep Quatre in the room! Stay there!” I yelled, hoping they would heed my call. There was a flurry of confused, stumbling steps as the attacker next rushed me, but as I sidestepped easily I could hear two sets of footsteps retreating into the bedroom, then the closing of a door, while another carefully approached the room. Even though I wanted Heero to be safe, I knew I could use some backup, and I desperately wanted someone to check on Dragon. He had not moved since I had entered, and I could see a small river of blood coursing down the side of the bed.
If he was hurt...

Zechs 70
Heero entered then, and the distraction he posed gave me just enough time to grab the attacker’s wrist and twist it, ridding him of the knife. I slammed my fist into the side of his head, knocking him to the floor, unconscious.
Forgetting about him in the next instant, I rushed to Dragon, who was still lying inert on the bed. Approaching him I could see that the blood was coming from underneath him, but as he was still clothed in his boxers I doubted the attacker had taken advantage of him. Still, the thought that he could have made my heart jump, and I turned Dragon over to find a deep gash along his inner thigh.
That still didn’t explain why he wouldn’t move, though, so I turned him back to his stomach. His eyes were glazed and his body limp.
“Dragon?” I called, lifting his head, “Dragon, can you hear me?” I wondered. No response was forthcoming, but I felt something strange on the back of his neck. I tilted his head forward only to find a drugged patch on the back of his neck. “Heero!” I called as I began to carefully peel the patch off, “Run and get me a wet rag from the kitchen,” I commanded, keeping my voice calm and level. Despite this, Heero dashed out of the room, his new mission taking center importance.
I sighed and examined the patch before tossing it aside. It was a standard down patch, and did not seem to be tampered with. Still, I didn’t want to chance that they had done something strange with it, and gently wiped away any chemical residue the patch might have left once Heero returned with the rag. The patch gone and the area cleaned, Dragon quickly began to come around.
“Mmph!” he said, making strange faces as he attempted to get control of his muscles again. “Wha-? Where...?”
“You’re safe,” I told him, carefully holding him in a half sitting position so that he didn’t move and accidentally hurt himself as the drug wore off. “We’ve dealt with the attacker, but he drugged you before we could get here. Do you remember anything?” I asked.
“I rem’mber...” he said, scrunching up his face in concentration, “... you’re mean,” he finished childishly. It seemed that, though the drug hadn’t completely put him out, it had made him almost drunk. I smiled. On the one hand, he was not suffering from amnesia. On the other, all he could remember was that I was mean. Lovely.
“Well,” I said charmingly, “that’s a matter of opinion.”
I lifted Dragon in my arms and, unable to protest, he went quietly to the den, where I laid him on the couch.
“Trowa, come out and call security for me. Heero, do we have any rope? We could tie up the burglar...”
“It wouldn’t be any use,” Heero commented in his emotionless tone as he exited the room. “He’s dead.”
“What? He can’t be. I didn’t hit him nearly hard enough for that.”
“I know, but he woke up and swallowed two pills before I could reach him. Apparently, death was preferable to failing his mission.”
“Ah...” I said, hesitating. “What should we do with him now, then?”
“I’ll contact the proper authorities,” Trowa said, heading for the kitchen. “They’ll take the body, then attempt to locate the master.”
“What good will that do?”
“The master has to pay for damages,” Heero said from the apartment’s door. “There was some damaged furniture in the slave’s quarters and the lock on this door will need fixed.”
“I don’t care about the money. What about punishing the master who ordered this?” I asked, still standing over Dragon, who was waving his hands in front of his face, like he had never seen such a thing before. Heero and Trowa hesitated in responding, looking at each other. A communication seemed to pass through them before Heero answered.
“Unfortunately, that’s nearly impossible,” Heero said, avoiding eye-contact. “Even if we find the master, they could always just say the slave did it totally on his own. There’s almost no way to prove otherwise. But... if you really want to get back at the master for this... insult... Trowa or myself could...”
“Enough. It’s far too dangerous for either of you to even think about attacking a master or his slaves. I don’t want to hear about it again.”
“Yes, master,” they commented in unison, and seemed vaguely relieved. As if, after how protective I had been of them, I would even think of letting them go on a frivolous assassination mission. What silly slaves I had.
“Can the door be fixed?” I asked.
“Yes,” Heero replied as he fiddled with the wiring on the lock, punching in codes as he went, “but if it has been broken into once it can be broken again.”
“I see. Then we’ll have to be on guard tonight, and I’ll install a better security system tomorrow.”
“Master, I could stand guard.”
“You shouldn’t go all night without sleep.”
“I am trained to go long periods without sleep.”
“No.”
“But...”
“Enough. I’m a light sleeper. As long as we’re together it will be safe,” I told him, but that wasn’t the only reason I felt I needed to stand guard. The attack was partially my fault, for I had heard the intruder and did nothing. If something had really happened to Dragon, I wasn’t sure if I could have lived with myself.
“Is everyone alright?” Quatre asked, peering out of the bedroom door. “Can I come out now?”
“It’s safe now,” Trowa said to Quatre, then turned to me. “I called security. They’ll come get the body in a few minutes.”
“Will I need to answer questions?”
“No. I told them we were attacked, and subdued the assailant. They can see that the pills killed him. Your word is good enough.”
“Alright then, let’s see what we can do for Dragon before they get here.”
“Is he hurt?” Quatre asked, moving from his place in the doorway to kneel beside the couch.
“Yes, but it’s not bad. It might require stitches, though.”
“Oh,” he said, taking Dragon’s hand and laying his other on his forehead, “you’ll be alright. Master is very capable.”
“‘E’s nah a doct...or,” Dragon replied, his brow furrowing in confusion.
“No, but you don’t have to go all the way to the medical wing if I do it.”
“...Kay.”
“Alright then, hold still so I can get started,” I instructed, lifting his leg.
“No!” he yelled, slamming it back down.
“Dragon...”
“You’re bad!” he yelled, pulling himself into a ball at the end of the couch, tears in his eyes.
“I’m just trying to help.”
“Bad things! I’m strong!” he yelled, curling himself in tighter. I looked over the back of the couch and signaled for Heero to come closer. He nodded, closed the door, and approached. Trowa was only a few steps behind, carrying the first aide box. I rose and went to talk to them.
“He’s not going to be lucid for another few hours,” I told them quietly, so Dragon couldn’t overhear. “He’s not going to like it, but you’re going to have to help me hold him down so I can treat the wound on his leg. So long as it’s small enough to use butterfly bandages instead of stitches, it should only take a few minutes,” I said. The two nodded, and we turned back to the couch.
“Dragon, I need you to lie back so I can see your wound,” I told him, but he only shook his head stubbornly. With a sigh, I motioned to Heero and Trowa, who quickly took Dragon’s arms and pinned him to the couch. Dragon tried to kick out, but they were quick, one coming around each side of the couch to grab his thighs and hold them open.
From this vantage point I made the annoying discovery that his shorts would have to go, as I couldn’t hold them up and away from the wound at the same time I cleaned it. Too tired to fight with pulling them off, I grabbed a pair of scissors from the first aide box and cut them off. Dragon let out a scream that pierced the room, watching me between his legs with terrified eyes.
“Quatre, hold his head!” I snapped, “Don’t let him look!” I said, hoping that Dragon’s state would cause him to calm once he couldn’t see what was going on.
It worked somewhat, as Dragon was reduced to merely sobbing and thrashing as Quatre took his head in his hands and forced him to look away.
“Hey there, Dragon,” he cooed, trying to calm the boy. “Can you look at my eyes? What color are they?”
“...uhn... eh... b-... blue...” Dragon replied through his sobbing.
“Really? Are they pretty?”
“Uh... yes... Very pretty...”
“Thank you! What about my nose? Is it cute?”
“... It’s... small...”
“Oh. Is that bad?”
“...No.”
“What about-...”
“That’s enough,” I said, interrupting Quatre’s questions. “I’m already done. Trowa, run and get Dragon a robe, please,” I asked, and Trowa scurried to obey. My comment, for some reason, instead of making Dragon cry less made him cry harder. “What’s wrong now?”
“A-... a-am I d-d-dirty n-n-n-now?” he huffed, sobbing harshly.
“No,” I said, taking his head in my hands. “I just fixed the cut on your leg. You haven’t lost a shred of dignity from what I did. Do you understand, Dragon?”
“That’s not my name!” he growled, suddenly offended by the use of his slave-name.
“I don’t know your real name.”
“It’s Wufei! Chang Wufei! ‘M not a damn liz’rd!” he huffed, his tears suddenly gone. One thing was for certain, this boy would never be getting a sip of alcohol from me! Not if this was how he acted when drunk! I wasn’t sure if I’d even allow him headache pills.

Zechs 71
Trowa returned with one of my worn, long-sleeved shirts instead of a robe, and I looked at it inquisitively.
“He keeps squirming about. I didn’t think a robe would stay on him in this state. I’m sorry if it displeases you and-...”
“Don’t be silly,” I told the green-eyed boy, “It’s a good idea. Would you be kind enough to borrow a pair of Quatre’s shorts as well? They look about the same size...”
“Yes master,” he responded, trying to hide a smile of pleasure from my small compliment. I would have to remember to do it more often. I glanced back at Dragon... pardon, Wufei, who was squirming uncomfortably in his seat. In a moment he noticed the small patch of blood on the seat next to him and carefully extended a finger to poke at it.
“Stop that,” I chided, causing him to jump and turn toward me. It took advantage of his momentary confusion and slipped his other shirt off of him. It came off easily, as it was loose for easy movements in fights. I almost didn’t want to take it off him, for he would be completely naked without it, but he had managed to get blood spots onto the white material, and they were far to unnerving for me to allow. “Arms up,” I told him, holding the shirt up for him to put on.
“No!” he said belligerently, whichwas silly, because it meant that he had to remain naked, which I had thought was one of the things he would like least to do around me.
“Now Dra-...” I tried to reason, despite his semi-lucid state.
“That’s not my name!” he yelled, tears springing back to his eyes. “I hate that name!”
“Well I’m sorry, alright? I forgot!” I snapped.
“Really?” he sniffled, rubbing his eyes.
“Really what?” I asked, exasperated.
“You’re really sorry?”
“Yes. I didn’t mean to call you a name you don’t like. I just haven’t known you as Wufei for very long.”
“Alright, then, just don’t do it any more,” he said, looking up at me for the first time with dry eyes.
“Will you put the shirt on now?”
“Yes,” he said, holding his hands above his head. Withholding a sigh, I slipped the large shirt over his small form. It came down almost to his knees, and completely covered his hands. He saw this, and shifted a bit, getting a feel for the clothing, then gave the first smile I had seen on him. He looked so young, with his hair down, an innocent smile on his face, and his brown eyes looking about curiously, if a bit unfocussed.
There was a knock on the door, distracting me from Wufei. I motioned for Quatre to sit with him while I escorted the security team to the body.
The security team was quick, if nothing else. They walked in, dropped the body into what amounted to a garbage can, took three pictures of the damage, and left. I felt bad for the slave who had attacked Wufei, even though his actions were despicable. More than him, I blamed the master and the situation for causing him to take such rash actions. It made me want to defeat it all the more, and to feel my failure so far all the more bitterly.
Once I returned from showing the team out, I went to the kitchen and grabbed a dishrag. There was still a large spot of blood from Wufei’s leg on the couch that needed to be cleaned, and I wondered for a moment if blood stains weren’t the reason the couches were made out of a synthetic leather, which was water resistant. Upon entering the den, I found Trowa holding Wufei up while Quatre put a pair of shorts on him. If it weren’t for the reason Wufei was like this, I would have laughed to see him being handled like a child. As it was, I almost felt like crying.
While I cleaned the spot on the couch, Heero and Trowa cleaned up the slave’s quarters, and Quatre babysat Wufei. It gave us all some time to calm down, for we had all been on something of a rush. There was a silence in the apartment broken only by the sounds of our cleaning and any noises Wufei happened to make. But it was not an uncomfortable silence, merely a quite time for us to calm ourselves. Within half an hour, my slaves came tromping into the den, visibly lagging. Even Heero, who had bragged about being able to remain awake for days, was sluggish. Not that I didn’t believe he could do it, I was sure he could if he pushed himself, but I also realized that he was still slightly weakened from when I first found him, and that he had been running himself ragged for the past week.
“Time for bed,” I commented quietly, getting up and motioning toward the bedroom. Trowa helped Quatre up, and Heero came to my side as I took Wufei by the hand and led him toward the room.
We made it three steps away from the doorway before Wufei panicked.
“No!” he gasped, stopping dead and leaning back against me. “I won’t go in there! It’s bad!”
“Wufei, it’s not...”
“No!” he yelled. I sighed. I doubted this conversation would be any better than our earlier conversation, and less lucid.
“No one’s going to hurt you...” I said, but it only had the effect of making Wufei burst out into harsh, wracking sobs. “Alright, alright!” I snapped, turning him around and leading him away from the bedroom. His sobs quieted somewhat, but he was still crying harshly.
“Master?” Heero asked, following me.
“Heero, could you go get some extra blankets from the closet? It seems I’m going to have to sleep on the couch tonight.”
“But... why?” he asked, even as he moved to obey.
“Because he’s certainly not going to go into the bedroom, and it’s not safe to leave him alone at this point. Oh, and Trowa? Could you warm a glass of milk?”
“I could sleep out here,” Heero offered, returning with the blankets. Together we began to lay them out.
“Thank you, but no. It’s my responsibility to keep all of you safe. Besides, you could use the sleep.”
“But...”
“Not another word. I’m the master here, I get to say who does what,” I told him sternly, finishing with the blankets.
“Yes, master,” Heero said with his head hung. Guilt nipped at me and I took him in my arms.
“It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I think... I think I need to do this. Do you understand? I need to protect what is mine.”
“I understand,” he said, meeting my eyes. “I just... I want you to know you can rely on me. I’m stronger than I look.”
“I know,” I said, and kissed him on the forehead. “Now get to bed,” I said, pushing him off toward the retreating backs of Trowa and Quatre. He cast me a lonely, longing look, but followed my command. That look, more than anything, resolved me to find a partner slave for Heero. I didn’t want him to be lonely every time I was busy or occupied, and Heero needed a close companion of his own. Perhaps he would even fall in love.
With that resolution, I turned to the couch, where Wufei was watching the happenings with that innocent curiosity.
“Do you love him?” he asked suddenly. If it hadn’t been for the glazed look in his eyes, I almost would have thought it was the lucid Wufei talking. But, no, it was merely the innocent question of a drunken mind, and I could deal with it as such.
“Uh... that’s a rather unfair question to ask. Here, drink your milk,” I said, lifting the cup of warm milk I assumed Trowa had left.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because it’s good for you, and because it’ll make you sleepy.” Without any more drugs in your system, I silently added.
“I don’ wanna sle’p. You’ll do ba’ things,” he huffed, though his eyes were getting suspiciously heavy.
“I give you my word of honor that I will not to anything bad to you tonight or tomorrow, but you have to drink your milk. Deal?”
“You promise?”
“On my honor.”
“Kay, then,” he said, and took a big gulp of his milk. I smiled and leaned back, hopeful that he would soon be asleep. Unfortunately, once he managed to finish the milk he surprised me again, this time by throwing himself on my chest and nuzzling my stomach.
“You smell pretty,” he said, giggling softly. “The Owner smelled pretty, too, but he’s a jerk. I hope you’re not a jerk. I’m not a jerk... Well, not really. I just act like a jerk, ‘cause I’m really a coward. I used to have honor, though, ‘til Owner took it. I was a sko- a ska- a scholar... er somethin. I read lots a books. I was gonna be a teacher ‘n everything. I don’t think they let dirty people teach, though. Maybe I can teach dogs or something. Do you have a dog...” he asked, drifting off to sleep. I wondered, absently, if there had been some kind of truth serum in that patch, and if I should have asked some questions, but it was all moot now. He was finally asleep, and I couldn’t help but smile as I covered his gently snoring form, which was still lying on most of mine.

Wufei 72
It was strange, like waking up from a nightmare, but a nightmare that you knew was a dream, and that wasn’t all that bad. Emotions of pain, fear, and anger were present, but so was this numbness that I couldn’t explain, and brief periods of happiness. Events were foggy, but the emotions I had experienced were very clear. So... what was going on?
I awoke from my slumber slowly, dragging myself up inch by inch from the murky depths of sleep. I was careful, too, as I woke, checking each level for safety before continuing to the next. It was strange to say that I felt safer than I could ever remember feeling while in slavery. It was warm, too, and... confined? Restricted? But it was a good feeling, the feeling of being... held?
It was with a sudden clarity that I realized not only was I awake, but I was being held in the arms of someone much larger than I was. I turned my head just enough to see a small spill of blonde hair. The master! What had gone on? What had he done? I searched my memories, but could only come up with foggy recollections. Could it possibly be so bad that I repressed it?
I forced myself to take three deep breaths, bringing myself away from the edge of panic. I had to think logically, and not lose my head. If I could not remember what happened, I might be able to find clues to prove it. Firstly, I was dressed, but I was not dressed in my own clothes. I felt groggy, but not hung-over. I was not in the bedroom, but I was on the couch, which forced me to lie on top of Zechs to stay on the couch. My ass didn’t hurt...
I moved, and a searing pain shot through my thighs. Nataku, he did! I was completely still for a moment, the shock of what must have happened last night causing a paralysis in my body, but not my brain. The next minute, I began to wiggle out of Zechs’ arms. I had to get away, before he woke and wanted to go again. It was a gift that I could not remember the first time, but I was not dumb enough to allow him another while my body attempted to heal. And I did not put him above such actions, I doubted he’d restrain himself for something as meager as human life.
As I struggled to get out of his hold, one of my movements must have alerted him to my state, as one of his hands closed over my elbow. His eyes opened partially, blearily, and turned toward me.
“Damnit, Fei, ‘m not takin’ ye to the bathroom ‘gain. Ye can’t poss’bly have ta go again alre-...” he trailed off, opening his eyes wider as he suddenly saw me. “Wufei? He asked, in a much more reasonable and awake voice, “You really up this time? I was getting worried.”
I ripped myself from his grasp, flinging myself across the room only to land on the carpet and turn on him, teeth bared and growling.
“You monster! What did you d-...!”
“Wufei, stop...”
“How can you do that to someone, in their sleep of all times!”
“Wufei, listen!”
“I won’t be defiled again-...!”
“Wufe, bend over!” he snapped.
“W-what?”
“Bend over, right now. I command it,” he told me, his face red with rage. What could I do but obey? My honor demanded that I obey his commands, even if they were despicable and perverted.
I turned toward him, bowing low at the waist. I would not present myself to him, like a common whore. If he wanted my ass, he would have to walk around me to get it.
“What do you feel?” he growled.
“Huh?”
“Where does it hurt? How does it feel?”
“It hurts, damnit! My thighs...! My... thighs...” I repeated, suddenly realizing that the blinding pain I had felt since bending over did not come from my ass, but my thighs. My left thigh, specifically. What the hell?”
“What? Oh shit!” Zechs cursed suddenly, jumping up and pushing me to lie face-down on the couch. If I hadn’t been so confused I would have fought him, but at the time I was still too busy trying to figure out what had happened. “Damn!” he cursed, lifting up the side of my boxers and examining what appeared to be the source of my pain. “You pulled it, but none of the butterfly stitches came off. Don’t do that again. If I ask you to... just smack me or something. I wasn’t even thinking about it,” he said, flopping down bonelessly on the other side of the couch. I dared to sit up, and managed just a peek at the corner of a deep cut in my thigh. It was tightly closed with butterfly stitches, a few drops of blood seeping through the cracks in the quickly scabbing wound.
“I... don’t understand...” I trailed, looking to Zechs for an answer. Had he... cut me? But what purpose would that serve? And why would he have tended it, if he gave it to me himself?
Zechs sighed, rubbing his forehead as he frowned. “What do you remember of last night? Do you remember being attacked?” he asked me.
I concentrated hard and managed to bring up the image of a dark shadow looming over me. It was like a nightmare. He had held a knife over me, smiling wickedly. I had lashed out, but my body had been too weak to fight him. He had... stabbed me? Yes, I could remember that. He had stabbed me, then said something about... skinning me alive. But... after that? It was so fuzzy. There had been yelling, and a sudden burst of light, and Zechs had been there, and Heero, and Trowa, and even Quatre. Zechs had... he had rushed the shadow. Had attacked a man with a knife to save the life of a mere slave.
“Someone attacked me. Did you... Did you save me?” I wondered. Zechs seemed surprised by this question, and briefly appraised me before answering.
“An unknown assailant snuck into your room last night and attacked you while you were asleep. He drugged you, to keep you from attacking, but despite this I believe you managed to engage him, receiving the wound on your leg. Once I heard the commotion, I came to check on you and engaged the attacker to keep him from harming you further. Heero and I managed to subdue him, but he killed himself before we could question him about his motives. You were too drugged to be coherent, and were irrationally afraid of the bedroom, so I stood guard here and kept watch over your condition. I think the drugs are out of your system now.”
Zechs’ statement had managed create almost as many questions as it had solved. Why would he have risked his life to save mine? Why had he stood guard, instead of his slaves? And why in the world was a part of nobility speaking in police lingo?
I heard the patter of bare feet then, and looked to the bedroom to find that Heero had awakened. He looked somewhat groggy as he shuffled to the kitchen, but I was beginning to notice how little Heero’s stoic face changed in expression, so it was hard to tell if he was really groggy or not. Remembering the events of the past night, however, I found it easier to assume he was groggy than anything else.
Which led me to look at Zechs, who was more dead than groggy. There were deep bags under his eyes, which were slightly bloodshot as well.
“You stayed with me all night?” I asked.
“Hm. You seemed alright, but we couldn’t really trust you on your own. Too many things around here you could have hurt yourself with.”
“So... why you? Why not the slaves?”
“Because I’m the master. Heero, Trowa, Quatre, and even you are all my responsibility. As such, it was my job to guard the apartment and watch you. Besides, the others needed to sleep. Speaking of which, I think I’ll catch another nap myself,” he said, leaning back against the pillow and stretching out so that his feet were almost in my lap.
“You can’t do that, master,” Heero said from the other kitchen, where he was putting the finishing touches on a pot of coffee.
“Why not?” Zechs asked in an almost pleading tone.
“Because we have to go to Master Grindel’s party.”
“Uhn!” Zehcs protested, burying his face in a pillow. “Can’t we just skip?”
“It wouldn’t be wise,” Heero said as he left the coffee to brew and stood behind the couch in the den. “Master Grindel is fairly powerful, and he offends easily.”
“Uh!” Zechs huffed. “I’m sick or something,” he said, hugging tighter to his pillow. Heero smirked, leaning casually over the back of the couch.
“Lazy master,” Heero teased. Zechs tensed and looked up, glaring at Heero’s smirking face.
I sat back, afraid of what was about to happen. How could Heero so casually forget himself? Did he think a master would simply accept being spoken to in such a tone? And I could see Zechs coiling, ready to spring on his naive slave. Then, as suddenly as I had expected, Zechs pounced, grabbed Heero’s shoulder, and dragged him over the back of the couch. Heero let out a squawk, falling gracelessly on top of Zechs. I jumped up and moved back, uncertain if intervention would only make things worse. Zechs was merciless in his assault, and Heero was thrashing hard, but with no definable purpose, so was having no luck in shaking off a master like Zechs. I contemplated running for one of the other slaves, but certainly they could hear the sound of Heero’s... laughter?
It was a strange, surreal moment as I realized that Zechs, a cruel and domineering master, was indeed having a tickle-fight with one of his slaves as punishment for a heinous insult. I rubbed my eyes, half afraid I was still caught in a drug induced dream. Neither did the appearance of the other two slaves help, for neither seemed to think anything about this situation was in the least bit odd. On the contrary, Quatre grinned and climbed on top of the two squirming fighters, while Trowa gave a softer smile and seated himself by their feet, in my former spot. After another minute, Zechs let out a sigh and deflated, sagging back against the couch.
“I suppose I’d better get up,” he sighed, looking at Heero, who was still laying on top of Zechs while Quatre lay on his back.
“If you’re really tired, you could probably sleep another half an hour or so,” Heero replied, “There’s an hour before the party, and if you don’t take long to dress...”
“No, I’d rather get there early so we can use that as an excuse to leave early. I’m hoping to have three or four hours between Grindel’s party and Manx’s party.”
“For what?” Quatre asked curiously.
“Well, I guess there’s no use hiding it. I’m going to see about the purchasing of the final addition to our household; one more slave.”