Aletta and a handsome stranger entered the room.
“Where is?..” Aletta looked around.
Alon was silent, habitually keeping the balance, the beast was overwhelmed and tried to look inconspicuous.
“You look especially good today. This is master Paris. Greet him.”
The tall bright master smiled with the smile of the lover of the fortune. The man wore only light pants, the master scraped back his blond hair into a ponytail.
Alon's eyes were shrouded in tears, he looked at the floor, not looking up at the masters. The beast knelt down and began kissing the man's bare feet. Paris took off his shoes at the door, going to visit, he prudently never put socks on. There will be slaves, there will be some strange etiquette, and wet socks are muck more than wet toes.
“Beautiful beast, well, hello, hello,” the man walked away, relaxed fell into a chair, put his ankle on his knee.” Where is your unwritten beauty?
Alon got up and walked away, stood motionless.
“Where is Ad?” said Aletta.
“At master’s Stine,” Alon exhaled ethereally.
“Stine is fucking him.”
Paris moved his shoulder vaguely.
“Well, at least make me coffee,” he smiled brightly.
Aletta opened the door room and told in space:
“Andy, make some coffee.”
Paris turned his bright attention to Alon.
“What good news do you have?” Paris asked.
Alon sighed softly, the master was annoying, like all masters, if they feeling something, they didn’t leave him alone when he wanted to be alone.
“What master wants?”
“Master can’t collect his thoughts before lunch.”
“Will I please master orally?” said Alon dully.
“No, we will please master visually. You probably don’t know how to juggle, so remove this nonsense from the balls and embody some recumbent composition.”
Alon took the pendulum off, involuntarily feeling grateful for the fact that Paris didn’t come up with something nasty. The beast lay on the floor on his side, he spread his bent legs, not opening the genitals, so as not to provoke a desire to step on them, he also spread his hands.
“Wow. Like a demon in thought.”
Andy came in through the other door with a tray in his hand, and Paris raised an eyebrow at the young man.
“Well, everything in "Blade" has changed so much,” with the master's gesture he let Andy go. “Want a candy?”
“Thank you, master, as you wish.”
Paris for a few moments lost in thought.
“Puzzled me,” threw out to Alon a few candies.
“Can I sit on the mat, master, or do I have to eat candy like this?”
Paris opened his pure green eyes.
“No, no. Sit wherever you want.”
Alon moved on the mat in the corner, hid the candy in the mattress, deciding, on occasion, to treat Ad.
“What's up?” Paris asked.
Aletta, Amir and Eugene went in the room. Eugene was a perversely evil, always dissatisfied master after his work Aletta gave Alon a few days to have a rest. The beast shrank, trying to become invisible.
“Hello,” Paris up his palm.
The men came up, shook hands with Paris. The handsome man took personal signs of respect condescending. In Firokami didn’t shake hands since long ago, only at a particular favour, after a long separation or when the stupid urge to touch.
“What are you doing, it’s not boring?” Aletta asked Paris.
“No, admiring uh...” Paris pointed to Alon.
“Al, his name is Al,” Aletta said.
“Good name,” Paris approved.
“He's a great dancer,” boasted the mistress.
Alon was sitting with the head bowed down, not moving, like a broken doll.
“Al, come here,” Aletta called and smiled warmly at Paris. “We are so glad that you could find the time and come to us.”
“How could I refuse,” replied Paris gallantly.
Alon got up, went to Aletta, looking at the feet of the guest. He finally realized he was kissing bare feet, not dirty shoes. The beast turned his gaze to the eyes through which the soul of Paris watched, trying to see something dignified in him, perhaps he would not offend Ad, and it wouldn’t be so unbearable to let the boy go with him.
“Al, dance for the master,” said Aletta.
“Yes, mistress.”
“Wait,” Eugene interrupted, “I’ve been recently in the "Santoria", on the "Dark stars", they could add spice to the dance.”
Eugene opened the bedside table with the tools for tormenting the slaves, pulled out a gun for piercing, began to look over the rings in the box, chose two, as they seemed to be the right size. Went behind the Alon’s back, pulled back the scrotum of the beast, loaded the gun and shot both testicles. Alon flinched, tensed, waiting for further crap. Paris cougarlike trembled, ran a hand through his hair, humbled moved his head, looking at Alon. The torturer brought the beast to the pole, with his back, pulled the rings around the pole, inserted a metal spoke into them, twisted the clamps, pulling the rings along the length of the spoke. Aletta turned on the music.
“Yes, yes, I’ve seen this show,” woman got glad. “Have you, Paris?”
“Wow, shifty,” Paris shook his head, “in ‘dark stars’ they recruit masochists from young years, and only at their teens let them to the stage, and you’ve just spent two minutes.”
The masters laughed. Alon moved in the dance, as it was possible because of the pain in the scrotum, he hadn’t seen the show ‘Dark stars’, so he improvised. Paris openly admired the movements of Alon. The rich imagination of the beast could strike any other. The strong body, which he skillfully managed, allowed to do acrobatic exercises. Stine with Ad entered the room, Ad rushed to Alon.
“Oh!” Eugene got happy, gripped the hair of Ad, pulled to the pole standing next.
“Oh!” Paris got surprised. “The girl of Rassen.”
Alon keenly looked at Paris, as if trying whether to see something or to get some message across.
“Hello,” Paris tapped his knee, beckoning Ad, “what are you doing here? The last time I saw Antey, he was looking for you.”
Eugene in confusion let Ad go, the boy rushed to Alon, hugged him. The beast decided it was precisely the moment; there was a significant difference between Alon and Antey Rassen, the powerful banker would be able to give Ad everything.
“Go away,” evilly quietly hissed Alon. “I don't need you.”
Ad was rubbing of the beast's chest. Alon powerfully unhooked Ad from himself, turned and pushed him towards Paris, looking with the value pleading in the eyes of the life’s lover.
“Fuck you, Paris,” Ad came to him. “And fuck your Antey.”
The masters didn’t dare to intervene, imperious charisma of relations of Firokami’s elite suppressed. Paris could kill everyone in this room in a few minutes. Paris Sunsky, one of the coryphaeuses of Firokami, talked with Ad, as with an old acquaintance.
“What a fool,” Paris breathed out mildly. Pulled the boy, sat him on his knees. “Is this your unwritten beauty?”
“Yes, he is,” Aletta sang oily. “Came himself.”
“Surely,” in some threatening way told Paris.
Alon danced, trying to cause himself as little pain as possible, the masters were busy with Ad. The beast sighed, caressing the boy with his eyes for the last time, that was all.
“Pack up your stuff,” said Paris.
“I'm not going anywhere with you,” Ad snorted, feeling himself easily on the lap of Paris. “Did I write to Antey a note that I don’t need him to look for me? Tell him I said hi.”
“He will come and will kick your ass with that hi,” smiled Paris.
“Leave me alone, my God lives here.”
“Hear that?” Paris pointedly appealed to the masters. “That's how obstinate we are.”
“Oh, yes,” Aletta oily continued.
“Who's the God?” Paris asked.
“Alon,” Ad tried to break away from the knees of Paris, but the man easily held him back.
“This is the one who just pushed you away, am I right?” hysterically asked Paris, pointing to Alon.
The internal resentment swept Ad, the boy cringed, the resentment also swept the beast, but he didn’t cringe, because he was right, let this sunny darling of life would lead Ad out of this hell, nothing good was waiting for him there.
“Fuck you,” Ad exhaled with an echo of a broken crystal. In the dark cherry eyes appeared bitter, not sweet, tears. Alon flinched, causing himself pain and turned away, so as not to give up.
“What does God think about this?” asked Paris, looking on Alon annoyingly, contemptuously guessing, what he thought.
“I am not a god, I am a slave, I don't need a slave,” said Alon, trying to keep his voice not to tremble. “I don't need Ad.”
“Ha. Congratulations on the choice of God,” hysterical-beautiful said Paris.
Alon was smiling, holding the bitterness. Ad looked at Alon.
“I can't do anything…”
“I can't watch this,” Stine said. “But it's true, he fascinated with the slave, I’ve read somewhere that this happens with elite slaves.”
“No one can,” Paris replied philosophically. “Why are you bother his soul, the man says he doesn't need you.”
“But I need him,” Ad was looking at Alon. Alon continued to dance; there was no order to stop, so he could hide from the eyes of Ad. Paris wondered, Antey certainly would have loved Paris to bring Ad, but slaves of the male appearance weren’t in the flavour of Antey, and Al, like any voluntary slave, needed power over him. Breaking someone's life for the whims of Ad would be wrong.
“What do you love, Al? And stop flickering,” Paris turned to him.
Alon stopped.
“I don't understand the question, master,” the question of Paris caught him by surprise, Alon didn’t have any favourite preferences, perhaps just reading, but it was the only thing he had.
“Reading,” shrugged Alon.
“Oh, you torn slut,” intervened Aletta, rushed over the pole, began to turn the needle.
“Sorry, mistress. I thought…”
“You thought!” Aletta spat out.
Paris shook the crazy confusion off.
“Stop it!” Aletta reluctantly dropped the needle. “I want to take Ad to his master, but he doesn't want to go without you, I want to see if we can give you what you want.”
A beautiful flash of hope broke out; the dream was painted with colours and sounds. Thirty years of slavery discoloured the dream, taught to fear everything and believe nothing, too often his desires were laughed at and distorted. If he said aloud about his desire, and Paris answered that he couldn’t give it to him, it would be the end for him, he would be alone with a frenzied crowd of masters who would not forgive him the shame before the coryphee, it was better to be alone with this crowd, not knowing his desires and satisfied with his obedience.
“I love my mistress and all that she gives me, and I do not want to part with her.”
Aletta stroked Alon’s hair, the beast smiled, showing contentment. For a moment Paris closed his eyes, swore softly, shook Ad.
“Come on.” He called the boy.
“I will not go,” Ad muttered.
“May I speak, mistress?”
“Talk, my dear,” Aletta allowed.
“Indeed, the coryphees don’t know how to teach the slaves obedience, if they dare to object. Maybe master Paris will leave him to study?” Alon sweetly sang, alluding to Paris to the horrors of learning.
Paris again gave hair a smooth.
“He wants me to stay,” Ad broke away from Paris’s knees and rushed to Alon. The beast threw the boy away.
“Apparently, the masters coryphees got so tender that can't manage a puppy.”
“Yeah,” Paris said not vainly.
Alon’d never met such masters, all were bought as a dare, everyone was afraid of shame, accusations of weakness. Ad sat on his knees, in front of Alon, raised his wrist to his forehead. Paris rose from his chair, ran his hand through the hair.
“Who is the owner of the house?”
“I am,” Stine stepped forward.
“I'll leave you Ad for a while. If you please. I ask you not to pity him, but if master Rassen receives a maimed slave, he would be extremely displeased. How much do you want for his monthly maintenance?”
“Toys, tickets, food... thousands of rubies will be enough,” shrugged Stine.
“Is it possible, master, can I teach Ad?” Alon asked after thinking.
“Good idea,” Paris approved. “If you feel sorry for him, there's no point for me to pay.”
Stine nodded.
“I understand, Paris.”
“I need the details where to transfer the ingots,” Paris, contemptuously shrugged his shoulders, there was nothing funnier than a master who was unable to pay for a slave. Paris only had heard, that there were such strange masters, who even took money from slaves. Apparently, these weren’t masters, but slaves who were still not aware that they were slaves. Paris watched Stine with interest, imagined how he would be twirling in his hands and shook his head, fending off visions of humiliating taming.
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