The shower made a muted hiss in the background as Blair puttered around the kitchen, humming under his breath as he poured coffee and turned off the heat under the scrambled eggs.  His Master had been pleased to discover that he could cook, though he wasn’t always happy with Blair’s choice of menu.  With a bemused sigh, the slave considered how hard it would be to change Jim Ellison’s eating habits from the bottom up, as it were. 

Blair heard the water turn off as he was putting seven-grain bread in the toaster.  The phone rang just then, and he stepped into the living room to answer it. 

“Ellison residence.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, then, “Blair?  Is that you?”

“Mom?” 

Jim emerged from the bathroom, wrapping a towel around his waist.  By the look on his face, Blair knew he’d listened to see who was calling.  Without a word, Jim sat down on the couch and pulled his slave down to sit with him, holding him close.

On the other end of the line, Naomi took a deep breath.  “Blair, I need to see you.  We need to talk about this…about what you’re thinking of doing.”

Shutting his eyes, he sagged back against his Master.  “Mom, it’s already done.  We haven’t signed the final papers yet, but as far as we’re concerned…”

“Oh, thank the Gods!”  When did his mother get to be so shrill?  “Sweetie, please, let me see you, let me talk to you!  Somewhere without that man there to intimidate you.”

Sudden, hot anger ran up Blair’s chest and into his face.  He struggled to control his tone.  “Mother, my Master does not intimidate me.  He takes care of me.  You’re the one trying to intimidate me.” 

His Master’s arms wrapped around him, keeping him grounded and secure.

“Blair, if you won’t see me I’ll have to take steps.  You’ve just arbitrarily decided to throw away everything I’ve worked for, everything we’ve worked for.  If you’re going to turn your back on me like this, I’ll have to distance myself.  For the sake of the work.”

“Mother, no.”  Anger turned to pain, and Jim’s big warm hand came up to rub his back.  “Why won’t you hear me out?  Even if there was no such thing as slavery in our society, I would devote myself to James Ellison!”

“You can’t possibly know who he is!”  Naomi’s voice had gone from shrill to loud.  “Two weeks ago you’d never heard of him, and you’ve been licking his boots from the first day you met!  How can you even consider shackling—literally shackling—yourself to a man you barely know?”

His Master’s expression had gone from neutral, to sad, to furious, as he listened to the conversation.  Blair wanted nothing more than to finish the call and spend the rest of the morning devoting himself to appeasing that anger. 

“Mother, the ten-day cooling-off period is almost over, and I’m going to sign those submission documents.  With my Master’s permission, I’ll meet you tomorrow morning before we go to the courthouse.  You can satisfy yourself that I’m not being coerced or brainwashed.”  He raised his eyes to the hard countenance above him, hoping for a nod.  He got one.  “That’s all I can do.”

There was a long silence.  Then, “This is the biggest mistake of your life, Blair.  You’ve been such an influence in the movement, become so well-respected.  I don’t want to see you throw yourself away like this.” 

“Mom, I love you.  Never doubt…”  The click on the other end of the line put an end to his words.  He hid against Jim’s chest, clinging on tight, wishing the world would stop shaking. 

“Shhh, now, shhhh.”  Quiet and strong, Jim held him and whispered comforting words in his ear.  Blair sat up and wiped at his face with one hand.  “Let her Disown you, let her ‘take steps.’  You’re mine to take care of now, Blair.  Mine to love.”

Blair sighed into the embrace and pulled himself together.  Resting his head on the broad chest, he murmured, “I love you too, Master.”  

Jim gave his lover a kiss on the nose and a gentle shove.  “Come on, lazy slave, what happened to breakfast?”

Jumping to his feet, Blair smiled a little.  “It’s getting cold is what happened.” 

Dodging a swat to his bare ass, he headed for the kitchen to warm the eggs and make more toast. 

A ten-day waiting period was mandatory in Washington state in cases of non-penal slavery.  Jim was free but his ownership of Blair was not yet confirmed, and it had turned out to be a blessing in disguise.  There was time to see Simon Banks about the promised job at the Cascade Police Department, time to make arrangements with Jim’s brother for transfer of the investments and cash he’d been holding for Jim; time, too, for making the change of behavior that was expected of Blair. 

Blair had always projected an independent, responsible demeanor.  He taught at Rainier University, lectured with his mother against slavery, took active part in Olympian worship, and managed his own business affairs.  Now it was all different.  Blair was a slave.  He’d given himself to Jim Ellison, with a startled recognition of his yearning to be held, to serve, to be owned. 

The paradox of freedom he experienced as Jim trained him in his new role was something that occupied his thoughts a great deal.  It was difficult to learn the ways of slavery; even though he’d voluntarily given up his freedom, a lifetime of behaving as a free man didn’t go away so easily. Despite this struggle, he felt a sense of certainty and place that he’d never imagined possible.  For the first time in his life, Blair felt content. 

Jim glanced up at his slave as he placed the plate of eggs and toast in front of him, feeling the echoes of sadness ringing in their Sentinel-Guide Bond.  He pointed to the floor beside his chair to indicate that he would feed his slave by hand.  Blair settled onto his knees as directed.  A forkful of scrambled eggs made its way to his mouth, and he opened obediently.  They ate in silence, first a bite for the slave and then one for the Master, as their thoughts spun around the call from Blair’s mother.

As Blair hung up the dishtowel, Jim nuzzled behind one tempting ear.  He tried one more time to convince Blair to rearrange their schedule for the day.  “Chief, I’d really rather go with you to Rainier.  I can change my appointment with Captain Banks.”

“Master, your appointment with the Captain is very important.  Just because it’s at the same time as mine at Rainier doesn’t mean you should change it.   You already tried to have my meeting with the dean changed, but it didn’t work out, and that’s all we can do.”  He yielded to the pull of his Master’s arm when it came around his waist.  “I’m still a freeman, at least until tomorrow.  I’ll be fine.  I’m just going to my office, really.”

“I have a duty to you, whether your slavery is officially registered or not.” 

“Master.”  Blair turned and looked up, his eyes beseeching.  “No one honors that more than I do.  My welfare relies on your sense of duty, and it’s one of the things I love about you, one of the reasons I’ll sign myself over to you tomorrow.  But you need to finish up the paperwork for your new job, and I need to clear up the University’s position on my decision.  This will be my last independent act.”

Jim shook his head; a cold cube of discomfort lodged in his belly at the thought of letting his slave out of his sight. Still, Blair was right; it was the last thing to be tidied up, and there was no actual reason he shouldn’t take care of it on his own.  He took two handfuls of hair and held the slave still.  “I don’t care about official papers.  You’re mine.  Tonight, we’ll love; tomorrow, after the courthouse…”

Shuddering at his Master’s words, Blair opened to the tongue thrust into his mouth.  He didn’t want to admit it, but he was apprehensive about going to Rainier.  He’d grown up on the Rainier campus, in more ways than one.  Even if he was certain he wasn’t going to like the outcome of this interview, how bad could it be?  It was ridiculous to feel afraid.   After all, he was still Blair Sandburg, Ph.D., and Doctor Sandburg didn’t get butterflies over going to his workplace. 

Blair didn’t catch the frown on his Master’s face as he released his slave and watched him square his shoulders and take a deep breath, like someone headed for the pool end of a very high diving board. 

*  *  *  *

It felt funny to be wearing a pair of shoes, much less a jacket and tie.  Blair shifted  uncomfortably as he waited for Chancellor Edwards to see him.  They’d always had a good rapport, so it was not a positive sign that she kept him waiting for more than half an hour after his appointment time.   

His walk across campus seemed ordinary enough on the outside; inside, he wasn’t sure if it just felt like people were staring at him, or if they actually were, whispering and looking at the former abolitionist who was selling himself to another man.  Even here outside the Chancellor’s office, Blair looked up several times from his magazine to see the secretary’s eyes dart back to the text she was marking.  By the time the dean opened her door to him, Blair’s composure was long gone.  He took the chair before her desk and held on to the arms as though he might be thrown from it at any minute.

“Dr. Sandburg, we have some very serious issues to discuss.”

So much for pleasantries.  He made no reply; the Chancellor, as a representative of the University, was handling this in a formal, pre-decided manner.  Academic give-and-take would not be part of this discussion.  With a sinking heart, Blair realized that nothing he said would matter. 

“We at Rainier have been very proud to have someone of your caliber on our faculty.  You were on track to become the youngest tenured professor in the history of the school.  Your work as a proponent of the abolition movement has become part and parcel of the image of Rainier.  Now, however, it has become necessary for us to rethink our position.” 

Keeping her eyes away from her colleague, she pulled a file folder toward her, opened it and glanced at the contents.  “Over the last two weeks, you have behaved in a manner that calls into question everything you alleged to stand for in the eyes of the public and especially of Rainier.  You have been the owner of a slave, one James Ellison.  You have been involved in a public brawl with a known felon, a notorious man whose home you also visited.  You have freed Ellison, only to declare your intention to become his slave as soon as legalities permit.”  For the first time, Edwards looked at Blair.  Her face was devoid of emotion, as though feeling anything would jeopardize her authority.  “Do you have anything to say?”

Blair rubbed his fingers over the place where Jim had kissed his hand as they walked to their cars that morning.  No matter what happened here—even if he repudiated his Bond with his Master and declared it all to be a huge mistake—his position at Rainier was finished.  He looked at the woman he once thought was a friend, knowing now that the distance between them could never be crossed. 

“There’s only one thing I’d like to point out.  My interactions with that felon were part of a police action meant to take him off the streets.  The operation succeeded, but the guy became suspicious and he attacked me.  I defended myself just the same as you or anyone else would have.  I think you know that there’s more to my situation than your description indicates, but as far as a bald statement of facts goes, what you’ve said is true.  Despite what you’ve presented here, I, myself, remain unchanged.  I am still the professor you say you were proud to be associated with.” 

Her eyes once more firmly on the documents in front of her, Chancellor Edwards continued as though Blair had never spoken.  “It is clear to the Board of Regents, the Faculty Committee, and the Ethics Committee that your actions have left you open to accusations of fraud and misconduct.  We cannot continue your employment here under those circumstances.”  She pushed a stack of forms across the desk at him.  “This paperwork details your severance package.  It is non-negotiable.  Your degree is your own; we cannot remove it.  Review that information, sign as indicated and take your things out of your office today.  Your employment with Rainier is terminated.”

Utterly numb, Blair read and signed and waited for copies of the end of the life he’d built over the last ten years.  Then he walked with measured steps out of the office and down the hall to the bathroom, where he vomited until his body was empty. 

*  *  *  *

With a final flourish of his pen, James Ellison formally accepted the position of Detective in the Major Crimes division of Cascade Police Department.  His service with the military police during his Army career had substituted for experience as a uniformed officer, and once he tested out of the procedural portion of the Academy exams and passed his weapons evaluation, he would be able to step into his new job.  The shaky grounds for his conviction into slavery had been reviewed and deemed insufficient to prevent his employment with the police force.

Jim and Captain Banks had discussed details of his compensation, and Jim was quite pleased.  With the money from his mother’s estate and the investments his brother Steven had held for him, along with the loft and Blair’s investments, Jim and his slave would be very comfortable indeed. 

The most pleasing part of the deal was one unknown to anyone except himself and Blair.  In his work as a detective, he’d be able to benefit the whole community by putting his enhanced senses to good use.  Under Blair’s influence, they seemed to be manageable for the first time since Peru.  Hell, since he’d met Blair, he’d returned from disgrace to reclaim membership in his noble Family.  He’d gone from begin a slave headed for the labor camps, to a respected position as a Cascade police detective; from indigence to wealth; from powerlessness to power.  All because of Blair.

He made it a point to talk to Banks about Blair’s position as his slave in the department.  Jim had a feeling that Rainier would not tolerate Blair’s continued presence on their faculty, especially given Blair’s former abolitionist stance.  Jim needed to be sure that if Blair wanted to work with him, the department would agree. 

There was no problem as far as Cascade PD was concerned.  Like any other employee’s personal slave, if Detective Ellison’s slave could demonstrate a useful skill set, the department would pay a small stipend for his work.  Jim hoped his slave would want to work with him; he would not force the issue, for the good of their Sentinel-Guide Bond, but he’d prefer to have Blair by his side.

Jim stood and shook hands with his new Captain.  Together, they walked out of the private office and into the Major Crimes bullpen.  Simon indicated the empty desk that Jim would take over and made introductions to the rest of the team.  At Rafe’s desk, he  was greeted with a wide smile. 

“So you’re one of the overworked and underpaid now, eh?” 

“Well, the money’s better than my previous job.”  Jim chuckled, shaking Rafe’s extended hand.  “It’s good to see you again.  I’m really looking forward to working with you.” 

Simon smiled and excused himself to head back to the stack of paperwork calling his name.

“Is Blair going to be coming in with you?”

“I don’t know.  I haven’t really even discussed it with him.  I’ve spent most of the past couple weeks training him, breaking him in.  He’s one bullheaded man; it hasn’t been easy.” 

Jim thought a moment, then spoke again in quieter tones.  “His mother called this morning and gave him a real hard time about his decision to submit.  I didn’t want him to go by himself, but he’s over at Rainier now, and if that ends up the way I think it will, getting fired will be the least of it.” 

A worried frown pinched Rafe’s brow as he waited for Jim to continue. 

“I’ve Claimed him in no uncertain terms.  He’s mine, Rafe, the one for my Chain.  I can feel it and he does, too.  But this is going to be a hell of a shock.  I wonder if he’ll be able to make the transition.”

The other man shook his head, lips pursed.  “Even if everything went smooth as silk with his family and his job, everyone being completely accepting, you know there would be problems.  He’s a grown man, a freeman used to being on his own, and an abolitionist to boot.  But he has the soul of a slave, and from what I can see, he’s yours in every way.  He’s been so happy and settled the couple times I’ve seen him since your Claiming--it’s obvious it’s right for him.”

“That’s just it.  I’m not really doubting Blair’s commitment, but he’s under tremendous pressure.  I’m trying to guess how he’ll respond to it.”

“Being Blair, he’ll start out trying to think his situation through, but once everything hits him, it’s going to be overwhelming.  I don’t know you all that well, and I don’t know what your style is as far as Mastery goes, but if it was me, I’d hold him tight in every way I could.  He’ll need you to show him that you can keep him in hand when all his old anchors are gone.” 

Jim glanced pointedly over his shoulder toward Simon where he worked in his office, then quirked a crooked smile at Rafe.  “You’re going to make some slave very happy someday.  Thanks for the advice.”

“I’ll put it on your tab.  See you later.”

*  *  *  *

The waterfront park was chilly and wet; a steady, ocean-soaked breeze blew inland, chasing leaves and trash down the empty sidewalk.  The lone figure standing along the bayside fence was huddled into a soggy sports coat, the end of a necktie flapping from one pocket.  At the sound of temple bells tolling the hour, the man raised his head and looked around him as though he’d just wakened.  In a minute or two, he turned and plodded back to the parking lot, to a car filled with cardboard boxes. 

He’d lost track of time.  Jim—Master—was going to be unhappy that he’d been out so long.  His cell phone had lost its charge and he couldn’t find the car charging cord.  Better go back to the loft.

Bits and pieces of the day replayed themselves in Blair’s mind as he drove the familiar route.  The creepy, self-conscious feeling as he walked across Rainier’s campus, a place more familiar to him than his own neighborhood.  The way Edwards avoided looking at him, and the empty look in her eyes the only time she did.  “Your degree is your own; we cannot remove it.” 

He’d been ready for reprimand, ready to be fired if it came to that, but they even wanted to take his degree.  They couldn’t, but they wanted to.  They wanted everything.  Everything.  This was his punishment for being honest with himself about his desire to serve his Master.  He had no job, no colleagues, no students, no office, no research -- nothing left.  No beating could have done more damage.

He pulled up in front of his building.  His home and his car would belong to his Master in a few days, too.  Nothing remained of all he’d worked so hard for since he was fourteen years old and set his sights on early graduation.  Even his mother was ready to turn her back on him.  He looked across the street at Master’s new SUV, then up at the light in the living room window.  Suddenly sick again, he pulled back out into traffic.  He couldn’t go up there -- not with these thoughts in his head.  

It seemed to Blair that he drove aimlessly in the gradual twilight, but after a while he noticed that he was only a couple blocks from Rafe’s house.  Exhausted, dazed and sad, he pulled into the driveway.  He ran his fingers through his tangled hair and headed up the walk. 

*  *  *  *

“Blair!”  Rafe swung the door open with a grin that changed to a concerned frown.  “Hey, come on in, it’s chilly out there.” 

He pulled his bedraggled guest into the foyer and took his wet jacket.  Blair let him, neither helping nor hindering as he was steered into the living room.

“So, hey, buddy.  Where’s Jim?”

Blair’s tired, red-rimmed eyes focused on Rafe and then drifted downward again.  “At the loft, I guess.”

“You guess?  What’s going on, Blair?”

“He’s going to be very disappointed in me, Rafe.  I’m not what he thinks I am.  Hell,” he shook his head, “I don’t think I can be what he thinks I am.” 

Rafe took in the slumped, defeated set of Blair’s body and knew that what was troubling his friend was not something he could fix. 

“Listen, you’re chilled to the bone.  Want a cup of tea?”  Without waiting for an answer, he headed for the kitchen, and the phone. 

*  *  *  *

Jim resisted the urge to hurl the telephone against the brick wall.  He placed it carefully on the charger instead and tried to think.  According to the woman he’d spoken with at Rainier, Blair had left his appointment with the dean a few minutes past noon; she refused to say more. 

Doubly concerned, he called the Anthropology department office.  The secretary there was tearful and upset. When Jim tried to explain why he was calling, she told him it was “inappropriate” to discuss internal University matters.  When he pressed her, she whispered, “He’s taken all his things and gone.  It’s just dreadful.”  Resuming a normal tone, she thanked him for his call and cut the connection. 

And that was the end of the trail.  Going out to search seemed pointless when he had no idea where to start looking.  Blair would come here or call, or someone would, if there was trouble.  Jim paced, he listened; he called Blair’s cell phone over and over, but got no answer. 

The worst was a few moments when the Sentinel heard his slave’s heartbeat.  His own heart leapt at the thought that Blair had come home.  Then the familiar pulse faded.  He rushed to the window, but Blair’s car was nowhere to be seen, even to Sentinel eyes.  The futility of trying to get to his own car and follow in late afternoon traffic was the only thing that kept him in the loft. 

He was considering calling the city’s emergency rooms when it dawned on him that he was now, at least on paper, a Cascade police detective.  With a rush of renewed hope, he reached for the phone just as it rang.  

*  *  *  *

Rafe put the kettle on and dialed Blair’s home number, thinking how things had changed for his friend in the brief weeks since the University party.  He only heard part of a ring-tone before Jim Ellison answered.

“Jim, it’s Rafe.”

“Rafe!  Listen, I need to call Captain Banks.  Blair has disappeared.”

“No, no, he’s here, he’s at my place.”

“Thank the gods!”  There was a sigh of relief, then a sharp intake of breath.  “What the hell is he doing there?”  The edge to the question made it plain that it was the Master asking for an explanation.

Rafe kept his voice even and calm.  “He showed up at my door a couple minutes ago.  He’s, um, pretty out of it, seems kind of disoriented.  It looks like he’s been out in the weather all day.  His jacket was soaked through.”

“What’s your address?  What’s the quickest way to get there?”

The directions were simple enough, but Rafe lived way across town.  “Listen, Rafe, just keep him there.  Don’t let him take off again.”

“He doesn’t look like he could make it to the mailbox.  I’ll make him as comfortable as I can.  Jim, he really needs you.”

“I’m on my way.”

*  *  *  *

Rafe set the mug of steaming tea on the table in front of Blair.  The young man didn’t move, not even so much as a twitch.  He just sat, staring at his hands. 

“Blair, drink the tea.  It will warm you up.”

At Rafe’s quiet command, the former academic reached out for the mug and took a sip.  Rafe had laced it liberally with honey; he was sure Blair had not eaten. 

“He’s going to hate me.” 

The words were so soft that Rafe almost didn’t hear them.  “Are you talking about Jim?  Why would your Master hate you?”

“I’ve…misled him.  Lied.  He thinks I’m all kinds of things I’m not.”

Rafe waited as shaky hands lifted the mug again.

Blair spoke into the silence. “They took it all away from me, Rafe.  They even wanted to take my degree away, but they couldn’t.  My job, my research, it’s all gone.”  A mirthless laugh.  “Well, it’s not all gone.  What I could pack is in the back of the car.”  He sipped his tea.  “I thought about heaving the boxes into the bay, but it would have made such a mess.  Besides, it all belongs to Master now.  If he still wants me.”

“Why wouldn’t he want you?  He’s so happy with you.”

“I…I thought….  Edwards was lecturing me on everything they said I’d done wrong.  The idea that I might still be able to salvage something if I….”  Blue eyes raised to fix the detective with a guilt-ridden stare.  “I wouldn’t turn away from him, Rafe.  I wouldn’t.  But to save my own sorry, worthless ass, I thought about it.  He’s never going to want me now.”

Rafe ached for his friend.  He wanted to make everything better, make Blair understand, but that was not his job.  He settled for pulling the afghan from the end of the couch and draping around the man’s hunched shoulders.

“What happened?”

It was a short, sad story.  With his eyes on the tabletop, Blair described the meeting, the cold distaste he’d felt from the Chancellor; described going to his office to pack everything and finding that there were boxes already packed, things just thrown in haphazardly.  He told about saying goodbye to the department staff, some of whom literally turned their backs on him.  Trailing off into silence, he sipped his tea.

“So I went to the park and tried to meditate, but even They wouldn’t talk to me.  Then I drove around a little bit, and I wound up here.”  He took a couple deep breaths.  “I’m nothing now.  Rainier won’t have me, but I’m a terrible slave, you know.  Master’s worked and worked, trying to train me and I still forget my place constantly.  I’m going to have to tell him what happened in Edwards’ office, and that will be that.”  He shook his head hard, back and forth, hair flying loose from the ponytail, struggling to keep his composure.  “I want to serve him, just him—I want it so badly, but what earthly use am I?” 

Rafe could think of nothing to say.  He was rescued by the sound of the doorbell.  Blair looked up, startled.  “You called him?”

Rafe went to answer the door. 

*  *  *  *

Jim approached Rafe’s house greatly unsettled in spirit.  He’d just heard a radio news broadcast that included an audio clip of abolitionist Naomi Sandburg publicly reconfirming her association with Rainier University.  “Neither public nor personal pressures will prevent my continuing crusade against slavery.” 

That bitch.  Jim could see the way it happened.  Rainier fired Blair, then called Naomi and made it plain that their backing of her cause was hanging by a thread.  Funding and the legitimacy gained through the distinguished school’s support were on the line.  Naomi made her choice.  She abandoned her son, Jim’s beloved slave, because he had followed his instinct to submit. 

Being a master was more than birth into a noble family and the right to wear its heraldic ring.  Mastery was acceptance of power and authority, and with them responsibility for one’s possessions, including slaves.  His sense of himself as a master made him painfully aware of what he had done when he’d awakened the slave in Blair Sandburg.  Jim knew he had set in motion the events that led to Blair being brutally rejected by those he trusted.  He would not give up life with Blair, not even to undo the betrayal his slave had suffered.  But that left him responsible for healing the torn and bleeding heart whose beat was sweet music to his ears. 

As soon as he knocked, Rafe opened the door, an expression of relief on his face. 

“How is he?”

“He’s in a bad way.  I didn’t know what to do with him, so I gave him tea and listened.”

“It’s going to get worse.”  Jim related what he’d heard of Naomi’s treachery. 

Rafe shook his head.  “Do you want me to leave?”

“No, you don’t have to do that.  I just want to get him home where I can deal with this in private.”

“OK.”  Rafe turned toward the stairs.  “I’ll go up and watch a little TV in my bedroom.  Just pull the door shut when you leave.”

Their eyes met and friendship was sealed.  “Thanks for taking care of him.”

Rafe went up a couple steps and paused to look down at Jim.  “He’s a good man, and so are you.  This will all work out.” 

*  *  *  *

Jim followed the sound of Blair’s rapid heartbeat into the living room.  His slave was on his knees, face to the floor, wrists crossed behind his back in the position known as “penitence.”  Sorrow and fear radiated from his body.

“Oh, gods.”  Sitting down beside the huddled form, Jim gently uncrossed the wrists and drew Blair toward him.  The slave kept his face hidden, first behind his own hair and then against Jim’s thigh.  He was utterly still, like a hunted animal when its predator draws near.  Jim began to stroke the damp, tangled curls. 

“Hey, Chief.”  With his other hand, he tucked Blair in tighter against himself.  “You’re so cold.  I need to hold you to warm you up.”  Blair did not resist as his Master arranged him.  His eyes remained downcast.  Jim petted him and whispered little words of comfort into his ear, rocking them back and forth until he felt the body in his arms relax by a fraction.  With his fingers on his slave’s chin, he brought their gazes together. 

The aching void he saw where there had formerly been adoration and devotion was like a punch in the gut. 

“Oh, Blair.”  Cradling his slave’s head against his chest, he began to rock again. 

Blair drew in a deep, ragged breath.  He struggled free of Jim’s lap and knelt a foot or so away, eyes down, hands palm-up on his thighs.  It was clear he’d thought out the speech he delivered in a rusty voice.

“Master, I am not who you thought I was when you took me as your slave.  I am weak and I am self-serving.  It was easy to be noble when I had the illusion of identity and position, but when that was taken away I behaved like a craven coward.  I am nothing but an object of ridicule and gossip.  My submission will bring you only shame.  You could not want someone like me as your slave.  I am sorry, and I truly beg your pardon.”  At the last words, his voice choked off and he returned to the penitence position, his body tense with misery. 

Jim was aghast.  He knew Blair would be hurting, but this was beyond comprehension.  How could he think that Jim would not want him? 

Rafe’s words came back to him.  “Hold him tight in every way....”  Blair was bent before him in the most submissive position possible. 

“Slave, stand.”

It took a second, but with a bewildered look, Blair levered himself up from the floor and came to the standing posture Jim preferred.  His Master walked around him, looking him up and down, pulling his head back when it started to droop.  When he’d come the whole way around, Jim took Blair’s face in both hands.  

“Look me in the eye, slave.”  Blue eyes raised to his and held, full of fear and confusion.  “There have been a lot of mistakes made today.  Some of them you made; I’ll punish you for them and they’ll be forgiven.  Some of them I made, and I will admit to them and do my best to correct them.  The mistakes of others we have no control over, and we will not waste our time on regrets.”  His voice softened as he stepped in close.  “You are my most precious, beloved slave -- mine, you hear?  Do not presume to judge yourself, little one.  Let me do that, and trust my judgment.  I will not fail you.”  He wrapped his arms around his miserable slave to hold him tight against his chest. 

“Get your jacket.  I’m taking you home.”

*  *  *  *

Blair knelt in deep resignation in the center of the living room, waiting for whatever the end of this horrible day might bring.  His Master ordered him to strip as soon as they got in the door and positioned him there before walking up the stairs to his bedroom.  The familiar silence of the loft was a welcome balm; his heart yearned for the peace of meditation on the gods.  Even that refuge was denied him earlier, in the park; but here, now, perhaps Minerva would receive him. 

His breathing steadied; he felt the slight pull in his midsection that signaled his transition from the mundane world to the world of Olympus.  He looked around, shaking his spirit’s wolf body to acclimate himself, and then started off at a trot.  The terrain around him was not what he expected; ordinarily in his journeys, his wolf-self ran across vast plains, over low, rolling hills covered with long grass and copses of dark trees.  This place was utterly different.  Beneath his four padded feet, a spongy layer of plant matter covered the earth.  The light was blue; unknown tropical trees crowded tight together.  He looked up, tongue lolling from his mouth.  Minerva could not come to him in the clouds in this place; he couldn’t even see the sky for the dense canopy of branches overhead.  

Running here was difficult.  He leapt over fallen trees and dodged thickets of bushes armed with wicked thorns.  It was dangerous to run full-out.  Through the trees, the scent of flowers wafted, and the scent of something else as well – something musky, a seductive and beckoning aroma that pulled him forward, on and on. 

As the blue-tinged foliage flashed past, Blair-wolf became more and more anxious.  There were sounds behind him; he began to feel as though he was being chased.  The shush of his paws against the leafy ground increased in pace as he wove through the trees.  The noise got louder; something was crashing through the jungle behind him, gaining on him.  He sped up, scraping himself against tree branches and sharp spines, his heart pounding as though it would burst.  The scent that called to him seemed the only path to safety now. 

His pursuer was so close he could hear its breathing when he burst into a clearing and skidded to a halt.  An enormous panther, black as the night sky with eyes of shocking azure, loomed snarling in front of him.  There was nowhere to go; death lay ahead and death lay behind.  In desperation, he threw himself into the air, his only thought to leap clear of the lethal cat and let what was chasing him deal with the fallout. 

As soon as his feet left the ground, his ribcage exploded in pain.  He howled and twisted, writhing against the torment of the arrow lodged deep in his heart. The fall to earth was a turning kaleidoscope of color.  Leaves and flowers swirled around him; the twilight sky glowed above him.  He fell facing back the way he’d come, and he saw his assailant – a woman wearing the sigil of the moon.  Diana.  What had he done to be hunted by a goddess?  Crashing to earth threw a haze of red agony over his eyes, but before he closed them for the last time, he saw her again. 

It was not Diana.  The woman who shouldered her bow and took a knife from her belt was Naomi, his mother. 

*  *  *  *

The muffled thud in the living room brought Jim to the bedroom railing.  What he saw sent him down the stairs two at a time.  Blair had collapsed. By the position of his arms,  he hadn’t even tried to break his fall. 

Jim landed on his knees next to the still form of his slave.  He pressed his fingers to the man’s neck, seeking a pulse.  It was there, but thready and weak.  He smelled wrong, too, as though something had gone missing from his essence.  Hidden by thin, bluish lids, Blair’s eyes darted back and forth. 

Once, in his time with the Chopec, a young man the shaman Incacha was training had ventured far, far into the otherworld, so far he could not find his way home.  Incacha retrieved him, but not without difficulty.  Blair’s symptoms were much like that boy’s.  How did Incacha bring him back?

Jim shifted to sit cross-legged on the floor so he could lift Blair’s head into his lap.  He had to follow his slave and remember their path so they could come home together.  Blair had freed Jim, then given up everything he had in submission to him; a future without this beautiful man was unthinkable. There was no room for error. 

He focused his hearing on Blair’s heartbeat.  He remembered Incacha chanting something, but he didn’t remember the words.  Hoping it was more sound than meaning, Jim began to speak in a low, even tone, telling his slave how wonderful he was, how honored Jim was by his submission, what delight he gave in all that he did, how much he was loved.  Making a chain of the two sounds – Blair’s heartbeat and his own voice – Jim followed it inward.  His eyes closed. 

A sound like something running through trees startled him, and he looked around again to see a scene madly unlike the warm comfort of the living room.  He stood at one side of a little clearing, surrounded by a blue jungle that was filled with sounds and sights he recalled from his days in Peru.  His body felt changed; when he held out his hand to look at it, what he saw was a paw, huge and black, with long wicked claws and wiry muscle.  ‘A cat, and a damn big one.  Well.  Hope I don’t scare Blair off.’  He stretched and gloried in the utter fitness of his cat body.

The running noises were coming closer; his feline self smelled fear on the wind, and a human scent, and something else.  Something seductive, sweet and dark, that pulled at him to find its source.  Jim-panther held back; whatever it was, it was coming toward him, so he would wait.

When the wolf burst from the thick brush at the other side of his clearing, he yowled, bristling defensively.  With the wolf came scent that he’d been tracking, though, so when behind the wolf came a woman, armed and in pursuit, Jim-panther gathered himself to spring.

He’d no sooner gotten his feet under him than the wolf leapt high.  The woman nocked an arrow, drew and shot so fast Jim had hardly moved in her direction before the wolf screamed in pain and plummeted, twisting and snapping, to earth.   

The all-too-familiar scent of death reached his nostrils.  Now he could see who it was, striding across the clearing toward him, a long knife gleaming in her hand.  He bared teeth equal in length to her blade as she approached.  Naomi was not focused on him, though.  Looking where she looked, Jim watched as the wolf morphed and changed – into pale Blair, bleeding where an arrow pierced his chest, his heartbeat shuffling and tripping like a stranger on a dark path.

Without a further thought, Jim-panther sprang in front of Naomi, in defense of his beloved slave.  She raised the knife and came at him, but one swipe of a heavy paw tossed the weapon from her grasp.  She gasped and clutched at her bleeding arm. 

“He is mine!”  Her screech rang in the dense jungle air, disturbing the birds and leaving silence behind. 

“So much yours that you must destroy him to keep him?”  They were Jim’s thoughts, but it was not the cat’s mouth that spoke them.  A tall, stocky figure stepped from the trees to stand beside the still form in the grass.  Vines and leaves twined about his head, and in his hand he carried a ram’s horn chased in gold. 

Naomi hissed in fury.  “I bore him, and I raised him, and I made him my own creature.  No one else will have him but me!”

The golden-haired man smiled gently at her, his face full of pity.  “You bore him, yes, Naomi, but he is my child.  Are you so foolish to think you will take him from me?”

“Your child?  Don’t even try that mumbo-jumbo with me.  I’d know it if I’d slept with a god.  His father took off before he was born.  He’s mine, and mine alone.  You had nothing to do with it.” 

Strolling forward, the god put out his hand and gestured toward the ground.  Naomi sank to her knees, struggling against the power that now constrained her.  “Yours alone?  Certainly, he was alone.  I was there when you left him behind with people you scarcely knew while you went to fight for your cause.  I was there when he cried, a little boy all by himself in a strange place, while you were out with ‘friends.’  It was my hand that put him on the path of learning, Naomi, and I gave him comfort and protection when he was alone at school.  Now he comes to visit me in my world.  He is not a child of my body, but he is mine all the same.  He’s going to have a chance to live in the joy he deserves.  He’s not yours anymore.”

He gestured again, just a little flick of the wrist.  Naomi’s face twisted and she looked up at him with fear and desperation.  Her mouth opened to plead for mercy, but all that came out was a bleating sound.  Coarse white hair covered her arms as she braced herself against the ground; cloven hooves sank into the loam and she bleated again, then bolted out of the clearing. 

A rumbling chuckle followed her.  Turning to the panther, Bacchus said, “I hope she finds her way back to the mundane world.  A jungle full of predators is not a safe place to be a goat.”

He stepped closer to Blair’s poor, broken body.  Jim bristled and snarled at him, ready to oppose the gods themselves on Blair’s behalf. 

“Easy, kitty.”  Bacchus smiled down at him and reached out a hand, palm up.  Jim-panther sniffed it; the heady scent of dark wine filled his nostrils and he sneezed.  “I’m going to help him.”  Growling low in his throat, the panther rested back on his haunches, his eyes fixed unblinking on the two figures in front of him.

“Here.  Put your paw right here.”  Bacchus indicated a place just below the arrow’s entry point.  Jim rested one large paw on the spot and the god crouched down to give a good pull to the arrow shaft, drawing it free of Blair’s body.  Sluggish dark blood seeped into the gash, and Jim snarled in fear.  He could not hear a heartbeat.

Without a word, Bacchus tipped his gilded drinking horn over the wound.  The deep red fluid that poured out sank into the puncture and filled it, then dripped down Blair’s side.  When it had all run onto the ground, Jim was astounded to see that the wound was gone.  Blair’s heart stuttered and chugged, then settled into its usual steady beat.  Looking up, full of amazed gratitude, he met the sea-blue eyes of the god, who laughed.

“Just a little something I stole from Apollo.  Our secret, eh?”  He stood and stretched a bit.  “You’ll need to be getting back, I suppose.  He is meant to belong to you, and you have many things to learn from him.  Take care of him.  You make a much better panther than you would a goat.”  He took a deep draught of wine in his mouth and, pursing his lips, sprayed it toward Jim-panther and Blair, who lay still on the ground.  The sweet, warm smell of Bacchus’ body enveloped them both, and then darkness descended. 

*  *  *  *

The loft was still dark when Jim woke up.  He shifted a bit on the hard floor and looked down at Blair, curled up with his head pillowed on Jim’s chest, sound asleep.

Gods, what a day.  The poor slave in his arms had lost nearly everything, and if he kept to his intention, would give up what remained when he signed himself over in slavery to Jim.  Even if he was inclined to them, second thoughts were pointless; Blair’s life was already irreparably altered.  Jim lay in the dark, warmed by the comfort of Blair’s precious body, hoping he could live up to the sacrifice the man had made. 

Blair stirred in his arms, then shot bolt-upright.  “No!  Mom—“

Jim grabbed him and pulled him back down.  “It’s OK.  You’re safe.  You were in the dreaming, but you’re back safe and sound.  She’s gone.”

Blair rubbed his face with his hand and blew out a long breath.  “Gods.  My mother.  She was there in my meditation, and she shot me.  I was so scared, Jim.  No one came -- not Minerva, not Bacchus.  Have they deserted…”

“Hush.”  Sitting up, Jim gave Blair a hand as well, choosing to ignore the use of his first name.  “Let’s take this up to bed.  If I’m going to have a complicated conversation at,” he turned to the DVD player to check the time, “quarter to three in the morning, I at least want to be comfortable.”  He drew Blair into an embrace.  “Besides, you’re freezing.”

Blair sighed a little as Jim’s firm touch tucked him into bed, pulling blankets up under his chin and putting an extra pillow behind his head.  It was good to be taken care of like this for once in his life.  Something had shifted in him during that strange meditation, but he couldn’t quite figure it out yet. 

“Master, I…”

Two long fingers pressed against his lips.  “I said, hush.  Now, I want you to listen to everything I’m going to say.  Take it all into that vast mind of yours and install it where you can find it, because it’s important.  Understand?”

Blair nodded.  Jim climbed under the covers next to him and drew them together so they could still see each other’s faces.  He kissed the high forehead, the eyelids, the nose and the wonderful mouth, wanting his slave to understand that, no matter what, he was loved and cared for.  Blair wiggled himself a little tighter against Jim.

“You had a very hard day yesterday.”  Blair opened his mouth to speak, but Jim frowned at him.  He subsided.  “One of the reasons it was so hard is that you tried to shut me out.  Once we sign those papers, you won’t be able to do that physically, go somewhere without me or without my permission card at least.  You can still take off mentally and emotionally, but I want you to think about what happened today before you try to hide from me in any way.  It’s not a question of punishment, Blair, though there will be punishment.  It’s a question of me taking care of you and you accepting that care because you have no other choice.  Slavery is not just giving yourself over to me, it’s accepting that I own you, and you can do nothing without my assistance, my permission or my command.  Do you understand?”

Blair bit his lower lip and nodded.

“OK.  Next part.  Yesterday on the way over to pick you up at Rafe’s, I heard something on the radio.  Blair, look at me.”  When his slave’s attention was full on his face, Jim continued.  “Your mother made an announcement last evening confirming her affiliation with Rainier.  She said that no pressures, public or private, would interfere with her stand against slavery.”  It hurt like hell to watch the open, listening expression on the beloved face crumple into sorrow.  And anger.  There was anger there as well, and that was a good sign, from Jim’s point of view.

“She’s blown me off.”  Blair’s voice was quiet and clipped.

“It sounds like it.” After a second’s thought, Jim plunged ahead.  “Chief, if they really wanted you – if the University and your mother really valued you for yourself – this all would have gone much differently.  They wanted you for what you could do for them, what you represented to them.  When you gave in to the things you needed, your value plummeted in their eyes.  Your mother…Blair, I’d understand tears, confusion, and sadness, but when I think back over what she’s said to you, your mother is just plain pissed that you’ve gone against her wishes.  She’s made her choice, and that choice is her cause.”

Blair’s lips firmed and his brow creased.  “Well, then that’s one problem solved, isn’t it?  I don’t have to worry about whether she’ll still want to see me.  That’s…that’s over.”  His resolute expression faltered a little bit, and he rested his head against Jim’s chest.  Jim rubbed his back, pulling him in tight, letting him wrap his mind around his mother’s betrayal.  In a couple of minutes, Blair eased back to look at his master.

“That explains my meditation.  I was running, but it was in a strange place, not where They usually take me.  Something was chasing me, and I was running through this jungle, trying to get away.  There was a smell that I’d never smelled before, and I was trying to get to where it was coming from.  I thought maybe it was another…animal like me.”  Blair wavered.  His Master raised his eyebrows and rubbed his back some more in encouragement. 

“The thing I was running toward was this gigantic black panther.  I thought it was going to attack me, the way it was crouched there, so I tried to jump over it.  But the thing that was hunting me, it turned out to be my…my mother, and she put an arrow in my heart.  I thought I was dead.”

“You collapsed.”  Jim took up the tale.  “Here, in the real world.  I ran downstairs and you were barely breathing, completely limp.  I was scared to death, Chief.  When I was in Peru, the shaman there brought one of his young men back from a bad meditation, and I tried to remember what he did.  I wound up following you there—into the blue jungle.  But it turned out that I was the cat.  You’re a wolf, aren’t you?”

Wide eyes gazed up at him.  “Yes.  But Master, how…”

“Take my word that I don’t know how any of this worked and just listen, OK?”  Jim took a deep breath and looked up at the far corner of the room, finding it hard to report on an experience he couldn’t believe he’d really had.  “Just let me tell it once and get it over with.  By the time I got there, you were running toward me.  You—the wolf—came  plowing out of the jungle, with a woman right behind you, chasing you.  You jumped, she shot, and then you were on the ground with the arrow sticking out of you, but I didn’t know it was you yet.  Naomi had a knife, and she was headed toward the wolf that was lying there, but as I watched the wolf turned into you, with this arrow through your heart.”

With another breath to steady his voice, Jim continued.  “She was trying to get at you, but I, well, my panther body took a swipe at her and knocked the knife out of her hand.  She was screaming about you belonging to her.  Then…”  He turned to face his slave, gathering him in.  “I’m not making this up, Blair, but it’s going to sound like an hallucination.  This just isn’t normal.”

From the area of his chest, Blair’s voice was dry.  “Try me.  I hold a very broad definition of normal.”

“Well, try this then.  Bacchus came out of the trees – you know, grape vines on his head, drinking horn, all that -- and they yelled at each other for a while.  Naomi tried to defend her behavior toward you, but he didn’t want to hear it.  From what he said, I guess you attend his temple, and he said you were a child of his heart and she couldn’t have you anymore.  Ah, Chief, he turned her into a goat and she ran off.”

To his complete amazement, Blair laughed.  “Oh, man, he does that all the time.  What is it with him and goats?”

“So you’re not worried?”

“Well, yeah, a little bit.  Usually he turns people back to their normal form before the meditation ends, but he didn’t do that this time, did he?”

“No, he didn’t.  But you were dead in that dreamworld, and you’re very much alive now, so Naomi is probably all right.”  Remembering the sight of Blair, pale in death, gave Jim a chill.  “Let me finish this, OK?  So Naomi ran off, and he pulled the arrow out of you.  Then he poured something from his drinking horn into the wound, and it healed you.  Your heart went back to normal and your color came back.  He, ah, he…”

“What, Master?”

“He told me you were meant to belong to me, and that I had a lot to learn from you.  Then he blew some of the wine over us, and I woke up on the living room floor.”  He blew out a deep breath.  “Damn, that was some fantasy.”

Blair propped up on one elbow and put the other hand on his Master’s chest.  “No, Master, not a fantasy.  Very, very real.  It’s hard to accept that there are realities that don’t conform to the rules this one follows, but they are no less real than the bed beneath us.  Listen:  Naomi sees me running toward you, but she wants my heart, and she kills me to get it away from you.  Bacchus defends me, heals me and gives me to you.  What happened yesterday?  Naomi and the University broke my heart, and I really thought I might die of it, but I wound up at Rafe’s and he called you.  Bacchus healed me in the vision and here we are.  I’ve been so twisted around, but now I understand.  That wine Bacchus carries with him brings clarity.”

Plucking at the covers around his Master’s shoulders, Blair continued.  “I knew there was something wrong with my intention to become your slave.”  Jim jerked upright and opened his mouth to object, confusion written across his handsome face. 

Blair raised a hand.  “Hear me out.  I never have trouble learning things, but I couldn’t seem to get the protocols you were trying to teach me these last couple weeks.  I wanted to take care of things alone, the way I always have.  I was really afraid to go to Rainier for that meeting, but needing you to go with me made me feel weak and clingy, so I talked you out of it.  By the time I got to Rafe’s place, I was sure you wouldn’t want me because I was a lousy slave and everyone was gossiping about me, mocking me.  The problem was that you had my body and my mind, Master, right from the start, but my heart and soul I kept aside.  The meditation showed me that.  My mother tried to kill me with an arrow in my heart, but good ol’ Bacchus who’s known my soul since I was a boy, he healed it and gave me to you.”  His voice softened.  “Heart and soul, Master.  I am all yours.  Nothing held back.”

Strong arms tugged him down for a long, hard kiss that morphed from demanding to loving and back again.  Blair slid up to lay full-length on his Master’s body, held there by tight-wrapped arms.  He opened to his Master’s tongue, loving the invasion, submitting to the kiss. 

“My slave.  My beautiful boy.”  An electric charge shot through Blair at those words, and he writhed against his Master’s hard body, feeling their rising erections between them.  “Get the lube.”  At Blair’s raised eyebrows, his Master smiled while his hands massaged his slave’s ass.  “I’ll Claim you this afternoon, after we come home from signing your papers.  I want you whole for that.”  He slapped Blair’s butt.  “Go on, get the lube.”

Feeling the erotic rush that sang in their Bond, the big man rolled them over so Blair was on his back, his hair wild against the white pillowcase.  Jim kissed down to lick and suckle at the rings piercing his slave’s left ear.  Blair was breathing hard, grinding his pelvis up against his Master.  A hard, uncompromising kiss on the mouth dragged a long, low moan from his chest.  He relaxed into the kiss, surrendering to his Master’s demand.   Jim explored his mouth thoroughly, running his tongue over the inner surfaces and biting at the full, swollen lips.  The sense of being taken, taken over, taken down, swept through Blair and he opened himself further, letting his legs fall to each side, trying to make his whole self a loving receptacle for his Master’s needs.

When he felt fingers pinch his nipple, he gasped and pushed up into the hand that tormented him.  Jim chuckled and moved his mouth down to nip at the hard peaks.  “Gods, you’re so responsive, baby.  These are so sensitive.”  He pinched again and Blair shook his head against the pillows, his earrings clicking together.  A shudder went through the strong body that pinned him to the bed.  “I’m going to pierce you.  Oh, yeah.  Put little gold hoops in these nipples, so they stay hard for me all the time.” 

Moaning at the thought, Blair arched his chest into Jim’s hand. 

“You like that idea, don’t you?”  The slave nodded, his eyes squeezed shut.  Jim pinched a little more.  “Tell me.”

“Oh, Gods, Master, I’m scared of the pain, but yes, to have your marks on me -- Gods!  You’ll stay with me, hold me while it’s done?”

“Of course, little one.  You can lay back against me on the table while they put the rings in.”  He paused to bite one nipple hard, and Blair jerked and moaned in his arms.  Jim sucked in a long breath.  “I’ll take you right away, as soon as you’ve been pierced.”  The thought of bending Blair over the piercing table, thrusting into his ass while his tits still throbbed from having his Master’s rings embedded in them went straight to Jim’s cock.  He grabbed for the tube of lubricant that lay on the bed.  “Raise your legs.” 

Blair hooked his arms behind his knees and pulled back, exposing his cock, his balls and his ass to his Master’s hungry gaze.  Jim took a moment to look, absorbing the totally submissive posture, the slick lips and reddened nipples, the flush of desire that spread over his slave’s body.  He ran a lubed finger over the perineum and slipped it into Blair’s ass without prelude, delighting in the squirm and whimper he got for his trouble.  Working his finger in and out of the heat, he rested his other arm over the backs of his slave’s thighs, pushing to open him further. 

“Master, please, more.”  Blair was rocking down onto the single finger, begging to be filled.  Jim obliged him, skipping two fingers and going right to three, well-lubed.  Blair cried out.  “Ahhh, Gods.  So full…” 

“No pain, though, right?”

“No pain, but please, please…”

“Tell me what you want.”  He increased the pace, spreading Blair’s asshole, shoving the lube deep inside.

“Gods, Master, please!”

Jim withdrew his fingers and his slave groaned at the loss.  “What do you want?”

Bright eyes, nearly black with desire, fastened on his.  “Please take me.  Use me.  Make me please you!”

“You want me to fuck you?”  Jim lined his rock-hard cock up with his slave’s spasming hole.  “It will be my pleasure.” 

And he slid home, pushing into Blair with steady pressure, watching his ecstatic face as he was filled. 

“Whose are you, slave?”

“Yours, Master, only yours!” 

Jim began to stroke deep into the willing body beneath him, running the whole length of his cock in at once and withdrawing almost completely before stroking in again.  “You are so beautiful.  So fine.  Gods, I can’t keep my hands off of you.” 

Here he leaned down to take a kiss and nibble on the spot he planned to mark.  “You are mine, Blair.  My own, my sweet slut.  I’m going to take you as often as I can.  Your mouth, your ass, your hands, your hair – all of it’s mine.” 

The relentless rhythm he’d set up faltered as he fastened his lips on his slave’s neck, just to the right of the Adam’s apple, and began to bite and suck.  Blair cried out, but lay his head back on the pillow to allow his master more room to work.  His aching cock was pressed tight between their bodies, and every stroke his Master took rubbed it.  He knew he must not come without his Master’s permission, but it was very difficult.  He’d been punished numerous times for not being able to control himself.  Today would be different.  Today he would trust.

Jim felt the subtle echo through their Bond as that last wall came down.  Pushing hard into the exquisite body that writhed beneath him, he gloried in his slave’s pleasure-filled cries.  “Is it good, little one?  Huh?  Oh, yeah, sinking my hard dick into you is beyond good.  So tight, so fucking hot—just perfect, baby.  I’ll make you scream with pleasure, I’ll push you deep into your slavery.  You’re mine.  Mine.” 

The speed of the fucking increased, and Blair shoved up against his Master, head back, fingers scrabbling against his muscular back. 

“Please, please…make me, Gods, too…”

Fire flashed behind Jim’s eyes and he thrust one last time deep into Blair.  The thick, hot semen filled his slave and overflowed.  At the feeling of his Master’s orgasm, Blair clamped down hard on his own immanent desire.  His success at preventing his orgasm nearly sent him over the edge anyway, but he managed control.  He lay very still.

Once he had his breath back, Jim pulled away from his slave, to the sound of a disappointed cry.  “Look at you.  Gods, your whole body is just filled with need.  It’s so hot, seeing you like this.”  He felt a little twitch between his legs, though he knew it wouldn’t amount to anything yet.  “So sweet, with my mark on your neck, all sweaty and full of desire.  I can’t wait to see the rings in your nipples.  We’ll think of some creative things to do with those.”

A shudder rippled the length of Blair’s body, and he hung on to his trust and control for dear life. 

“Close your eyes.”  When Jim saw them shut, he began to run his hand up and down Blair’s body, toying with the over-sensitized nipples and dallying with the skin between the hipbones and the hard, leaking cock.  Moaning, his slave pushed up against his hand.  Jim took that as a cue.  He slipped his fingers into Blair’s ass.  The startled shout that caused pleased him very much.   

He whispered to his slave, “I’m going to finger-fuck you, boy.  Enjoy yourself.  Come when you want.”  And he bent to his work, running his long fingers in and out of Blair’s hole, biting and licking and pinching at the pleasure-wracked body stretched before him.  Blair bucked and shoved, whining on the edge of orgasm.  Jim watched with satisfaction as he plowed his fingers deep into the tormented body.  He bent over once more to whisper.

“I bought your Chain yesterday, boy.  You want to know what the tag says?”

Beyond words, Blair nodded his head against the pillow.  Jim mouthed at the closest nipple and then bit it hard.

“‘Property of Master James Ellison.’”

Blair arched off the bed and came in floods, howling. 

*  *  *  *

Late morning light spilled though the skylight when Blair next opened his eyes.  His arms were around his Master’s pillow and the covers were tucked firmly over him.  He heard the gurgle of the coffee maker; that was his job, making the coffee, and here he was, lying about in bed.  He stretched hard and hauled himself upright, shivering a little in the cool air. 

Padding down the stairs, he found his Master standing on the balcony, leaning on the railing looking out over Cascade.  The new jeans he was wearing hugged his muscular ass and legs, leaving very little to the imagination; even in a sweatshirt,  his shoulders showed broad and strong.  Blair sighed a little with happiness; this was the man who owned him, cared for him, took mastery over him.  He wouldn’t trade him for all the tenure and fame in the world. 

Jim must have heard him come downstairs, because he turned with a smile and came inside. 

“Good morning, my own.”  Blair accepted the good-morning kiss and rested his head on his Master’s shoulder.  “Are you ready for the big day?”

“Absolutely.”  He snuggled in close.  “What can I make you for breakfast, Master?”

“Pancakes sound good.  I’m going to get in the shower, and after we eat we’ll get ready to go.”

There was a sense of almost reverent expectation in the air, and neither of them seemed inclined to talk as they ate.  When Blair went upstairs to dress, he found a pair of soft cotton drawstring trousers and a loose cotton pullover shirt laid out on the bed, and a pair of rope sandals on the floor beside it.  Slave clothing.  What he would wear in public from this time forward unless his Master ordered otherwise.  It was with a profound sense of relief that he slipped the garments on.

When he returned downstairs, Jim was standing next to the kitchen island, dressed in a suit and tie.  Blair walked over and knelt quietly at his feet, eyes fixed on the floor.

“Master?”

“Yes, Blair?”  One long-fingered hand came to rest on his head, and he looked up.

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure, little one.”  Jim pulled his slave up and looked him over.  “You look good.  I want you to pull your hair back when we go out, though.  I want to be the only one who sees it when it’s down.”

Blushing with pleasure, Blair went into the bathroom to find a hair tie.  Jim followed him in and took the tie from him, then braided the long, thick mass and secured it.  He looked over his slave’s shoulder at their reflection in the mirror.  “There.  The only thing missing is my Chain, and we’ll fix that soon enough.”  He kissed the mark he’d left on Blair’s throat the night before and escorted him to the door.

*  *  *  *

Court was in session, which put parking at a premium.  Jim wound up parking the truck blocks away.  The sidewalks were crowded.  On the walk to their destination, Blair kept a careful distance behind and to the left of his Master, his attention directed at his hips.  Not only was that an extremely entertaining view, but it gave the best warning of stops and direction changes, so the slave would not plow into his Master’s back or become separated from him.  He was surrounded by a cloud of peace and resolution, part of him concentrated on keeping his place, part of him marveling at the new world he was about to enter once and for all. 

They were walking up the broad marble steps that led up to the imposing façade when Blair saw her.  Standing alone along the balustrade, his mother stared at him. 

“Master?”

Sentinel hearing picked up the quiet word and Jim paused to look back at his slave.  When he saw Naomi, he turned to Blair.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.  It’s just…well, it’s freaking me out a little bit.”

Firm fingers pressed into his arm; their eyes met.  “Doubts?”

Without hesitation, Blair shook his head.  “Not a one, Master.  She has no real power over me, not any more.”

Taking a gentle kiss from his slave, Jim smiled.  “Let’s go make this official.” 

They moved into the courthouse, leaving Naomi standing in the plaza, staring after them.

*  *  *  *

Bureaucracy being what it is, there was more than just a signature involved in finalizing Blair’s slave status.  The Taxing Bureau, the local branch of the Slaves Welfare office, the prothonotary’s office, the Registrar of Deeds—they took a regular tour of the court buildings before all was said and done, until finally Jim had the sealed submission documents in hand.  

Blair was washing off the fingerprint ink in the restroom outside the Licensing Bureau.  He didn’t need Sentinel senses to feel the possessive heat pouring off his Master.  He turned to reach for a towel, but Jim intercepted him. 

Bending him back against the sink,  Jim forced his tongue deep into his slave’s mouth.  His slave.  His slave.  The papers crackled in the pocket of his suit coat.  He could still feel the residual heat as the wax seal cooled.  His hands roamed over Blair’s body, pushing up his shirt, sliding past the drawstring of his pants where they rested on his hips.  Blair moaned beneath his onslaught and wrapped his arms around his Master’s neck, gasping as the plundering mouth fell on his throat and began to bite. 

The splash of water into the basin startled them both.  Blair was bent so far back that he’d bumped the faucet on.  Jim rested his forehead against Blair’s, grinning ruefully.

“This isn’t the setting I had in mind for your Claiming.  How about we get out of here and go home?”

Blair rubbed the spot on his back where the faucet had been.  “The sooner the better, Master.” 

He leaned up for another kiss, which once again threatened to get out of hand.  They pulled apart, laughing breathlessly, and Blair pushed on his Master’s shoulders a little to send him toward the door.

As they left the courthouse, Blair saw neither Naomi nor anyone else.  He only had eyes for his Master. 

*  *  *  * 

The moment they entered the loft, Jim stripped him.  The three articles of clothing he wore -- tunic, trousers and sandals -- were placed with care by the door.  Jim’s mouth plundered his slave’s, hands everywhere, until Blair was moaning and panting.  At his Master’s command, he took another shower and an enema, cleansing himself inside and out to prepare for this Claiming.  Jim stood over him, watching, assisting, rubbing his belly and washing his back with proprietary care. 

Now, as Blair knelt in the center of the living room, he thought about the last time he had done so – was it really less than twenty-four hours ago?  The transformation from  misery to joy seemed surreal, yet here he was, waiting on Jim, now truly his Master, with a heart so light he felt he must be hovering above the floor. 

“Slave.”

Blair looked up, flushed with anticipation.  “Yes, Master?”

Jim crooked a finger at him and disappeared back into the bedroom. 

When Blair reached the top of the steps, he was pulled into the room and positioned next to the bed.  Controlled desire sent tremors through Jim as he inspected his property with all his senses, fondling and scenting every inch of skin, tasting, listening, drinking in the sight of Blair, naked, with his damp hair curling over his shoulders. 

This was not just any slave, not one bought at the Pens or at auction, nor one raised by his family, but one Fated to be his.  A brilliant slave, well-educated, devoted, knowledgeable in the ways of Sentinels; beautiful, incredibly sexy, as much a slut in bed as a scholar out of it.  And now, Jim Ellison’s property, soon to be Chained and Claimed and made to know the depth of his slavery and Jim’s commitment as his Master.  With his hands on Blair’s face, he kissed the lush lips and groaned with desire. 

It was hard to stand still.  Blair wanted to throw himself into his Master’s arms, kneel at his feet, lay on the bed and spread himself wide.  Part of him refused to be still; his cock filled steadily, twitching at the erotic thrill of being catalogued, imprinted in his Master’s sense memory.  Jim drew back and pulled Blair’s arms around to trap them behind his back, holding the wrists together with one hand. 

“Yesterday, I told you that there would be punishment for your behavior.”  He stroked the soft, new-shaven cheeks with his free hand, seeing dismay in his slave’s deep blue eyes.  “I want everything between us to be clear before I Chain you.  I won’t have old issues dogging us into the future.” 

He snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor; Blair slipped to his knees as Jim sat down on the bed.

“I want to be absolutely sure you understand the reasons for this punishment.  You are not being punished for your reactions to your meeting at Rainier yesterday.  You may be my property, but you’re still human.  Anyone would have wished for a way out of that.  What matters is that you did not betray me in any way.  You gave up everything except your commitment to me.  That makes me proud, not angry.”

“The things I thought were…they were terrible.  I went off without you.”  Blair hung his head.  “I manipulated you.”

“You also failed to let me know where you were, and you’ll pay for that, believe me.  I was half-crazy, worried about you.  But worse than that, you hid what you needed; you tried to handle everything yourself.  You cannot do that again, Blair.  You’ve got to trust me to know how to take care of you.  If you don’t, you’re going to have a very difficult life.  I’m going to punish you for putting yourself—for putting my property at risk.”  He stroked the curly head that rested against his knee for a moment, then raised Blair’s face so their eyes met.  “Do you understand everything now?  Twenty for the trust issue, and ten for not communicating.  Come up onto the bed.”

Jim positioned his slave on his belly and rested his knee against the small of his back.  Picking up the round black paddle he’d set out, he said, “Count and thank me.”  Then he brought his first stroke down on the pale flesh. 

By fifteen, Blair’s ass was shining bright red; at twenty, he was having a hard time getting the numbers out between sobs.  Twenty-five brought abject apologies between the tears and the counting.  When Jim lifted his knee from his slave’s back after thirty and pulled him over his lap, Blair gasped out his thanks for correction and curled into the embrace, his whole body quivering.

“There now.  It’s all done.” Jim wrapped his arms tight around his sobbing slave.  “You were very brave, little one, very brave.  You’re forgiven now, it’s all over.”  They rocked together as Blair’s crying wound down.  Jim whispered into his slave’s ear, “You’re never going to be that alone again.”

Blair snuggled closer, plastering himself to his Master’s chest.  Jim traded the paddle for the tissue box.  He wiped Blair’s face tenderly, soothing with kisses and soft words.  They held each other in silence, basking in the Bond that knit them together.

After a few minutes, Jim stopped playing with the curls at the back of Blair’s neck and eased him off his lap.  His slave hissed as the cool cotton sateen of the comforter rubbed against his hot bottom.  “Go stand in the middle of the floor, over by the window.  Keep your back to me.” 

He smiled at the view—muscular legs covered with hair, the creamy skin of the slave’s broad back, and between them, a cherry-red butt.  Beautiful.  His cock gave an appreciative twitch.

He went over to the dresser and opened the top drawer to take out a flat grey jeweler’s  box.  The Chain inside was heavy, made by winding a tightly-woven strand of thick white gold and a similar strand of yellow gold together like a rope.  At the front dangled Jim’s Army dog-tag, framed in white gold and backed with a sheet of yellow gold on which were engraved the words Jim had spoken to Blair the night before:  “Property of Master James Ellison.”  Drawing it through his fingers, he stepped behind his new property and wrapped the Chain around his neck to lock it in the back.  Blair shivered under his hands and a low moan reached Jim’s ears.

“Mine.”  It was barely a word, growled into the skin behind the slave’s ear.  “Mine.”  When Blair relaxed against him, it was Jim who shivered, love chasing lust through his belly.  He pushed the willing body against the wall and began to rub his cock in the cleft between the well-heated cheeks.  “Never anyone but me.  The one who lays a hand on you, loses it.” 

He drew in a breath laden with Blair:  Blair’s body, Blair’s desire, Blair’s seed.  “I’ll take my pleasure from you in a thousand ways.   I’ll give you such pleasure you’ll forget everything except my name.” 

He kicked his slave’s legs apart, pushing farther and farther until Blair’s ass was presented to him, ready for the taking.  With a hissed command to keep the position, Jim dropped to his knees.  Fur-covered balls dangled within easy reach, so he cradled them in one hand, rolling them back and forth, stroking with his fingers.  Kisses rained down on the flushed skin of the slave’s ass, and the new Chain gave a faint jingle as he whimpered and tried to push back against his Master’s mouth.  That earned him a sharp bite.  “I told you to be still, my own.”

With one wet finger, Jim pushed into the tight-furled hole.  Blair had been careful that no lube remained in his body after the enema, and he groaned at the invasion, from pain and from need.  Two fingers followed, his Master taking good care to open his ass well before the Claiming.  When he felt mobile wetness probe him, he couldn’t hold still; with a groan, he arched back to meet Jim’s tongue.  Even the slap on the ass he got for moving sent a pleasured thrill to his hard, dripping cock.

Blair’s breath was coming short and fast by the time Jim stopped the rimming and stood behind him.  He braced himself to feel his Master’s thick hard cock shoved deep inside, but Jim surprised him with a short command. 

“Suck me.”

Immediately, Blair was on his knees, opening his mouth for his Master’s pleasure.  His mind was whirling.  Slaves did this.  He was a slave now; he belonged to this handsome, strong, honorable man who could order him to do anything and could expect to be obeyed.  Blair sank into his servitude, his hands, his lips and his tongue working to please the man who owned him.   Rubbing his face along the length of Jim’s cock, he moaned.

“Gods, Master, it’s real, isn’t it?” 

Jim sucked in a sharp breath.  “Oh, yeah, little one, it’s real.” 

Those generous lips wrapped around the base of his dick as Blair returned to feeding on him; the wet heat sent his lust soaring.  Trying to keep from jerking the slave up from the floor and just plowing into him, he ground out, “Get me good and wet, then get on the bed, hands and knees.”

The slave was trembling when Jim knelt behind him and positioned his cock at the dripping entrance to his body.  He gentled him with touches to his back and still-red ass.  “It will hurt, baby, you know that, but then I’ll make you feel so good.”

In answer, Blair laid his head down on the pillow and spread his legs further.  “Need you, Master.  Need this.  Do it.  Do it now.”

Jim thrust forward, tender tissues stretched and tight around his cock.  “Gods!  Yes!”

He saw Blair bite down on the pillow beneath him.  “Give it all to me, slave.  I want to hear you.  Your voice is mine, too.” 

With a deep groan, Blair began to push back into the pain of the Claiming, sending a surge of desire through Jim.

He speeded his strokes, moving easier now, precome slicking the passage.  Blair’s position needed to be adjusted so he could get a good angle on the prostate, so he took the hot, well-beaten ass cheeks in hand and maneuvered until he got what he was after—a cry part pain and part pleasure that rang against the rafters of the room. 

“Whose are you?”

“Yours!”  Blair was panting, thrusting back in time with Jim.  The stab of entry had morphed into a dizzying ecstasy of pain, joy, pleasure and lust.  He dangled from the precipice of orgasm, struggling against it and yearning for it simultaneously.  “Yours, Master, always your slave.”

“Oh, yes, you’re mine.”  The tight friction around Jim’s cock was driving him wild.  “I’ll fuck you constantly, you’ll be hard for me constantly.” 

He could have this man whenever he wanted, without reservation, and possessiveness shot through him like lightning.  He looked down at Blair’s sweat-drenched back as it rocked into his strokes.  “You love it, don’t you?  I can feel it in the Bond.”

Blair moaned and ground back against his pelvis.  “Yesss…” 

Jim draped himself over his slave’s back and reached for the nipples.  “I want you to come when I do, my own.  Give your seed to me when I fill you.” 

He began to pinch and twist at the sensitive buds, until Blair gave voice to a constant babbling litany of words and sounds.  Their rhythm increased, strokes blunt and hard as Jim pounded his slave.  “My slave.  My own boy.  My beautiful slut.” 

The pressure built; they were shaking together.  The slave was moaning and pinching at his own nipples as Jim pulled him upright, back against his chest.  Head resting back against his Master’s shoulder, Blair shouted from the extra penetration as his weight bore him down on the thick heat that invaded his body. 

Three more thrusts from powerful hips rocked the bed.  “Now, Blair!  Now!”

Jim exploded, shoved in as deep as he could go.   His slave arched in bliss and his shout of completion shivered in Jim’s ears as creamy ropes of seed spurted from his body.  For a moment in their Sentinel-Guide Bond, they merged, two beings, one heart, one soul, unity from duality in a light as bright as Olympus. 

When at last they came back to themselves, a faint tint of that sublime union lingered between them.  With tender hands, Jim petted and soothed, tracing the new Chain with his fingertips, whispering his love and his satisfaction.  Once they’d regained some breath, Jim eased them down onto the bed, pulling Blair against his chest to keep his sore ass from the sheets.  Blair grunted a little as he was shifted around.

“Are you all right?”

“Actually, Master, I’m pretty much beyond all right.”  He smiled against the broad chest and nestled in.

Jim gave him a playful pat on the butt.  “Smart mouth.” 

Still, he had to check for injury, so he shifted Blair onto the bed and went to get the kit.  His examination revealed a small tear in the internal wall, but no serious damage. He was spreading ointment over it, long finger reached into the slave’s hole, when a purring sound met his ears.  He looked up.

“You like that?”

“I like how you take care of me.  The fact that it involves playing with my ass is just icing on the cake.”

“It’s all my pleasure, believe me.”

Jim laid the tube of salve in the kit on the bedside table and moved up to wrap himself around his Blair.  Pulling the covers after him, he smiled as the expected burrowing motions commenced.  When they were settled, Blair sighed.

“First day of the rest of our lives, Master.”

“Mmm-hmm.”  Jim tucked his slave into the crook of his arm, and they drifted to dreamless sleep.