Meadows of Heaven (12/23)

[epeeblade]

Chapter 12

Captain Loretta Devine flipped through the files on her tablet, skimming the standard reports from her officers on the ship. Right now they were pretty stationary, so everything had damn well be running smoothly. She'd give them more time later. Untangling this mess of a contract from Commander Morgan was her first priority.

And she'd admit to herself that the thought was uncharitable. The contract itself was well-organized, phrased with precise, careful language, and considered every possible scenario involving a UP base on 328. Loretta just had the little problem of one Major Tappen to resolve. That and the clause to always have a dom/sub team on the UP side to liaise with the citizens of Harmony. She'd sent off a dispatch to General Ferris, knowing that the Sex Corps would be the only ones who could promise that. As for Major Tappen, well, the word from her superior officer wasn't good for him anyway.

"Captain to the bridge," came over the intercom.

Can't I even have five minutes in peace? She thought tiredly, closing down the screen before leaving her ready room for the ship's bridge. Commander Neil Patrick Harris turned as she entered.

"Captain on the bridge."

"Sit yourself down, Commander, and tell me what the hell is going on."

Harris swallowed. "About twenty minutes ago something appeared on our sensors."

"Something?" she echoed. "From the planet?"

"No. On screen," he commanded. "It's a ship, heading directly in our direction. And it's not one of ours."

Loretta squinted at the screen, watching as the fuzzy image slowly became clearer. "That's a Confed ship."

"Yes, sir."

"What's the ETA?"

"It'll be here in 24 hours."

This was the very last thing she needed. "Send an SOS to Corps Command, Ensign. Triple encrypt it, tell them to send ships ASAP. Commander Harris, put the ship on alert, battle stations ready."

"Captain," Ensign Smith called over. "They're hailing us."

Well, now that threw her for a bit of a loop. "Check the feed for any attempt to break into our central computer, Ensign. Cut off all connection if you find any. Otherwise," she took a deep breath, centering herself in the middle of the bridge. "On screen."

The screen changed to a rather blurry, staticy image of a man in standard Confed uniform. Loretta clenched her hands into fists, having had far too many occasions to get up close and personal with those uniforms.

"I'm Commandant Jack Coleman of the Confederation ship Discovery." He gave an unctuous grin; she could see the oily smirk even through the bad reception.

"Captain Loretta Devine, UPS Mercury," she stated, for the record. "Mind telling me what you're doing this far out in space, Commandant?"

"Exploring, of course," he answered. "If you recall, the Hanburg treaty gives us equal rights to explore deep space. And allows for information sharing."

"Commandant," Loretta began, not sure if she should bring this point up. "You're aware there is a war going on? Why should we share any of our information with you?"

He held out his hands. "This area of space is not disputed territory. This is a peaceful exploration, purely for the purpose of science and knowledge. We left the war behind, Captain."

Right, and any moment now she was about to break into a pirouette. Loretta didn't know his real game, and she worried the Confed had gotten wind of the colonies they were recovering. The last thing she wanted was to send the Confed in the direction of the people on 511, who could not protect themselves from an invasion.

"I'll believe that when I see it, Commandant."

"Fair enough. We'll reach your location by the morning. I look forward to working with you, Captain."

The connection cut out. Loretta sank into the captain's chair.

"No sign of any hacking, Captain," Ensign Smith said.

"Someone get me the damn text of this Hanburg treaty." She was just about ready to strangle some damn fool diplomats.

***

Jensen woke to a gentle hand stroking his hair. He kept his eyes closed, enjoying the sensation, nearly enough to send him back to sleep.

"Jensen?"

He rolled onto his side, wincing a bit at the ache in his backside. "Hmm?" Jensen said, still on the edge of slumber. Jeff had worked him over pretty good for someone who hadn't even heard of the scene until a few weeks ago. Either Jeff was a fast learner or Jensen a damn good teacher. Either way, the punishment had broken something open inside Jensen, letting free the anxiety and fear that had been building, and allowing him to bring his focus back.

"Did you want to come while I spoke with Major Tappen?"

Jensen's eyes popped open and he looked up at Jeff sitting on the edge of the bed. "Of course."

He didn't imagine the relief in Jeff's eyes. "I wasn't sure if you wanted to keep sleeping."

"Just don't ask me to have a seat," Jensen teased as he slid out of bed. Despite the numbing cream Jeff had rubbed into his skin after the scene, Jensen still felt every bruise. If it bothered him, he had no doubt they could 'cure' it at the Healers'. However, Jensen liked the reminder, how it twinged even as he walked over to the wardrobe to pick out a pair of loose leggings to wear. For one moment at least, he'd been completely owned by Jeff.

"Jensen. . ." Jeff started and Jensen wondered if he was going to apologize. That was the last thing Jensen wanted.

"I'm fine," he said. Jensen found a pair of dark green pants and slid them on. "I'm ready to go back to work."

Jeff's hands touched his shoulders, fingers massaging his muscles, but Jensen knew he was still loose, the tightness melted away after the paddling. "All right. Let's go."

The guards still stood on either side of the doorway to Tappen and Johnson's suite, even though the two men were allowed out, with a guard escort of course. Jensen noted how still the guards were, even after Jeff asked to be let in. Neither of them looked familiar, and Jensen wondered where Ian had gone, if he waited for Major Tappen to be turned over as his sub.

Johnson looked up from perusing a slate at their entrance. "Commander Morgan."

"Hey Karl. Where's Hank?"

The informality surprised Jensen at first, but Johnson was a civilian and they didn't come bearing the best news.

"Out on the terrace, exercising." Johnson nodded to the set of glass doors on the other side of the room.

Jeff walked over and opened them, revealing a shirtless Tappen in the middle of a set of pushups. "Nice form, Major."

Tappen pushed himself up, and gave a sloppy salute. "Sir." He moved to wipe the sweat out of his eyes.

"At ease, soldier. You might want to sit down for this." Jeff edged to the side, giving room for Tappen to enter the suite.

Tappen grabbed a towel slung over the back of a chair and wiped down his face and chest. He was, Jensen thought, extremely fit, admiring the tanned line of muscle. "What's the bad news, Commander?"

Jensen clasped his hands behind his back and tried to look as unobtrusive as possible, although he knew Tappen had one eye on him. The major judged Jensen a threat, kept him under observation at all times. Jensen considered it a compliment.

"First things first. I've been working on behalf of the UP to set up a base on 328. We've been hammering out an agreement with the queen."

"You know, I really don't like the sound of where this is going." Tappen dropped into the chair behind him.

Jeff gave him a twisted grin. "She has some personnel requests. One of them is that you remain here, with Guard Ian, for the rest of your tour of duty."

Tappen sat up in the chair, his back rigid. "What did you tell her?"

"I haven't told her anything. All requisitions go through the captain first. However. . ."

"They're gonna make me do it." Tappen hopped to his feet, his face flushed with anger. "Fucking make me stay here for that God damn base."

To Jensen's surprise, Tappen whirled on him, pointing his finger at Jensen. "This was your idea."

"No," Jensen denied. "I thought I could get you out of it."

"Instead they're using my defense against me."

"I've found these people clever like that," Jeff drawled from across the room, the warning obvious in the tone of his voice.

Tappen backed off, turning away from Jensen, his shoulders a mess of tension.

"Look," Jensen said.  "I didn't want it to turn out like this. If we can figure a way out for you, we will. But I gotta ask you. . .the queen did this for a reason. Did she talk to you?"

After a moment, Tappen gave a tense, short nod. "Asked me a whole bunch of questions about what I thought about Ian. Guard Ian."

Jensen considered telling him there was no shame in his feelings for Ian, but he knew Tappen was far from ready to admitting to having any. He thought back to that strange dream, if that conversation had actually occurred or if he subconscious mind was playing tricks on him, coming up with a happy ending for this couple when he was assured of never getting his own.

"Look," he said, trying to keep his tone even. "The queen obviously thinks you might have feelings for Ian. Whatever else, these people are big on matching pairs up. And they like it when a higher power does it. We saw it ourselves, matching them up like it was fate or something."

"Great, I'm in the starring role of Fiddler in the Airlock," Tappen muttered.

"What?" Jensen shook his head.  "Even if you have to stay. . .I can help you. Give you some advice. Some training. If you'll take it from a Scut."

"I'd think about that before you respond, Major," Jeff put in.

Jensen didn't think Tappen's pride would let him accept. Instead, the major surprised him.

"Fine." Then he whirled back around. "That's if you can't fix this."

"Fine," Jensen agreed.

When they left the suite, a flashing screen shimmered out of the air and appeared in front of them.

"I think we have a message," Jeff said, the tele system still new to them. "Answer," he told the screen.

Jensen smiled at the sight of Misha and Peter. Misha gave a little bow. "Good day, Commander Morgan."

"Hello, Misha," Jeff said with a smile.

"Sub Peter and I are traveling to the heart of the city. There are several events for the Choosing and I hope to visit one of the groomers. We would like to invite Sub Jensen to accompany us."

Jeff turned to face Jensen and mouthed the word "groomer?" with a raised eyebrow. Jensen bit his lip to keep from laughing. He gave a quick nod to show he was up for the trip. He'd never been out of the palace, except for the short time before getting on the tram and Jensen was damn curious how this society worked outside the royal factions.

"All right." Jeff turned back. "Just don't have him out late. Come back before dusk."

"Yes, sir," Misha said. "We're on the tram deck on the lavender level. Can you meet us here, Sub Jensen?"

"Of course," he answered. He'd find it, somehow.

The screen winked out, leaving no trace of it in the hallway.

"You sure about this?" Jeff asked. "With your, you know…"

Jensen lifted a hand to rub his ass. "I've had worse."

"Really?"

"That's not an invitation!" Jensen grinned. "I really would like to see what the rest of the city is like. This is the perfect opportunity."

"Fine, but take your comm. I don't know if the tele will work out there, and I want you to report back every hour."

"Yes, sir."

***

Jeff once again found himself without his sub. At least this time Jensen was out doing something hopefully fun and not drugged up in the infirmary. Still, without an appointment to attend, he found himself at loose ends. He flicked through the listing of Choosing events on the tele, wondering if he should attend one on his own, or if that would be considered gauche.

If someone had asked Jeff a month ago if he thought he would be in this situation - trying to figure out the etiquette of a society set up around kinky sexual roles - Jeff would have laughed. He never would have dreamed that not only would he navigate such a society, he'd take part in it, hell, even enjoy some of the things Jensen had introduced him to.

Sometimes Jeff wondered how much Jensen had taught him and how much was already just lurking inside him, waiting for the right time to come out. He'd never felt like this with Katie, never wanted to tie her down and make her submit. Yet, all he wanted with Jensen was to see him on his knees. Even now, just the thought of Jensen bent over, cock caged and ass prepared for him, had Jeff getting hard again.

Annoyed, he grabbed the slate with the proposed agreement for the UP base. Maybe if did some work out in the gardens, he'd clear his head a bit. He could think circles around what Jensen had introduced him to, but Jeff couldn't come to conclusions while he was still stuck in the middle of the situation.

He passed several subs in the garden, some working wrist deep in the dirt, which surprised him. Jeff would have figured the crazy alien tech would have gotten the whole weeding thing taken care of. He'd have to check if they'd cured the common cold yet.

He found a bench looking over the blue waters of the ocean and settled himself in the shade of a leafy tree. The fresh air helped, and he found himself better able to concentrate, adding several notes to the document to confer with Jensen about before taking it to the queen.

"Commander Morgan?"

Jeff opened his eyes at the sound of his name; he must have fallen asleep. He turned on the bench to see the princess standing on the path, a tall dark-skinned man behind her. After a moment, Jeff recognized the sub from the town square. "Alona," he said, drawing himself to his feet. "I was just enjoying your gardens."

She laughed as she came closer, her long hair unbound and free, fluttering in the slight wind. "Father falls asleep in the gardens all the time. I don't know how he does it."

Probably just very bored, Jeff thought, with a sheepish look at the slate. "Well, they are lovely gardens."

"I wanted to introduce you to my sub. My first sub." She all but bounced on her toes. "Dourdan, this is Commander Morgan."

The man came forward and bowed, his hands behind his back. He was dressed in black, and towered over Alona, both served to make him look more like a bodyguard than a sub. But then again, maybe that was the kind of sub Alona needed.

"We had a private collaring," Alona said, and only then did Jeff notice the dark blue collar around Dourdan's neck. "I didn't. . .I'm in the public eye enough. I wanted something for myself." She took a deep breath. "And it's not like pictures won't be all over the tele soon anyway."

Obviously the tele had capabilities Jeff hadn't yet learned. "I think you're wise to be realistic," he said as diplomatically as he could.

She smiled again at his words. "I suppose. Well, I need to finish showing him around. Good day, Commander."

"Good day, Princess." He watched as they left, Dourdan shadowing the girl, he seemed protective of her. Jeff hoped Alona had made the right choice.

***

Not wanting to face sitting in the tram for the ride into the center of town, Jensen knelt in the wide center aisle. Peter gave him a look. "We don't have to kneel if our masters aren't on the tram." He had taken a seat next to Misha.

Jensen gave a little cough. "Let's just say I don't want to be sitting right now."

Misha burst out laughing. "Did you finally get what you asked for then?"

He could feel the blush rising in his cheeks. "Maybe," Jensen said.

"Don't ask for details, please, Misha." Peter rolled his eyes.

Jensen ignored their bickering, too caught up in the city rapidly coming closer as the tram descended, although once again he couldn't actually feel the motion of the vehicle. The place that looked so amazing from the air looked just as spectacular up close. He could see the tiled metal most buildings were made out of, the glittering streets, the throngs of people walking along the square, all of them either collared or dressed in something they'd call fetish-wear back home.

"Groomer's first, I think," Misha said as the tram touched down. "Get that out of the way."

"We could have done that at the palace," Peter grumbled.

Jensen pushed himself gingerly to his feet and followed the other two out of the tram. He craned his neck, unable to see exactly how tall some of the buildings were. It reminded him of a strange mix of New York City and one of the old Confederation towns he'd been to, built to look like a city from the past. The trams, the shiny buildings and bridges and lifts were all very modern, but everyone walked, carts sold goods on the streets, and the fountain sputtered real water, which you'd never see on Earth these days.

"Why didn't we go at the palace?" Jensen asked, tearing his eyes away for a moment to catch up with the other two men.

Misha sighed. "Is it so wrong that I wanted an excuse to come downtown? If we'd gotten groomed at the palace we'd just sit around all night holding our balls."

Jensen covered his mouth with his hand to hide the giggle. Ah, groomer suddenly made sense now. Oh stars, what did they call Hollywood waxes here? "Wait," he said, the thought suddenly occurring to him. "You don't expect me to, ah, join you?" Jensen normally used depilatory cream to keep his balls smooth, but he hadn't gotten around to a fresh application this week.

Misha turned and gave him a downright evil grin. "Now, Jensen, aren't you always telling me you wish to learn more about our ways?"

"Not with my balls," he muttered as Misha took one arm, Peter took the other, and damn it if both of them didn't march him over to the groomers. He briefly considered calling Jeff for help.

The inside of the shop reminded him a bit of the healers', clinical and clean, with stations behind opaque curtains that shimmered away when needed. They were greeted by a smiling sub wearing pale clothing, who took their names and assigned them each to a different station.

"Trust me, you'll thank me," Misha told him. "You were getting a bit straggly."

"I'll show you straggly," was the most intelligent thing Jensen could think of to say before going in to his appointment. "Oh, hi."

"First time?" the sub on the other side of the curtain asked with a grin.

"We'll just go with that, sure." Jensen, resigned at this point to his fate, dropped his pants and eased onto the table at her direction.

"Do you wish the pain numbed beforehand or not?"

"Oh, please, numb me."

She turned away, most likely to hide her grin, but Jensen did not give a damn. There were just some things you couldn't ask a man to endure. Having hot wax put on his balls, and then torn off was one of them. Although, Jensen considered, hot wax in other places, well, that might be kind of fun.

Lost in his thoughts, he nearly jumped when the sub sprayed something cool over his privates. It tingled for a moment, rather pleasantly, before going numb.

Jensen looked down, then decided he really didn't need to see this and shut his eyes. The wax felt pleasantly warm, and the ripping only like gentle tugs. When she told him she had finished, Jensen opened his eyes, surprised. He was silky smooth, however.

"Thank you." He grinned.

"The numbness will wear off in an hour. You should put some gel on it before bed and then again in the morning."

He got a tube of the gel and then went back out into the waiting area, surprised to see Peter arguing in hushed voices with one of the grooming subs.

"Tell your master," the sub was saying, "to wait at least one night. It's not healthy."

"Thank you for your concern," Peter said stiffly and for the first time Jensen saw the prince in him.

No, that wasn't true, Jensen realized Peter had always carried himself with a certain regal quality. Even when bound and whipped, there seemed to be something otherworldly about him.

"Problem?" he asked, coming up to them.

Peter shook his head. The sub threw up his hands and went back behind the curtain. "He didn't want me to replace some of the, ah, equipment I was wearing."

Jensen had a flashback to that day in the park, when Misha had lifted Peter's kilt and revealed the chastity device he wore. Was Peter wearing it now? Jensen winced in sympathy; that could not be comfortable against his freshly waxed groin.

"Do you always. . . ?" he started, then realized the rudeness of the question and trailed of. "Where's Misha?"

Peter gave him a small smile, as if grateful for the change of subject. "It takes him a bit longer, he gets everything removed."

Honestly, Jensen didn't think Misha had enough body hair to necessitate the waxing. Before he could voice the thought, Misha came out from behind one of the curtains, a flush high on his cheeks. The skin on his chest looked freshly scrubbed. Well, Jensen thought, if he only wore that kilt everywhere, Misha probably wanted to put forth a good impression.

"Where to now?" Jensen asked as they left the groomer's.

They paused, and traffic continued around them. Jensen caught a whiff of something delicious roasting, possible some sort of nut, whatever it was had his mouth salivating. Misha and Peter considered.

"I'd like to stay with the shops outside."

"Right, don't want to overwhelm him with the emporium just yet."

"And we can't miss the auction afterwards."

"Oh, I know, Master Albe's." Peter looked around the square, as if orienting himself. Jensen didn't know how, he figured there must be some way, but all streets looked alike to him. "Come."

They did stop to pick up bags of the nuts on the way, after passing the booth and Jensen's obvious longing for the items. When he asked about payment, Misha only said, "It'll go on your account, or your master's if you have it set up that way."

"And how do I find this account?" Jensen grumbled, no one had explained that since they'd left the clothier on their very first day here. He guessed they hadn't needed to, everything had been provided for them at the palace.

"On the tele," Peter said. "You can look up the Tal you've earned, and what you've expended. If you're permitted to hold your own Tal of course."

"Of course," Jensen repeated. He guessed Tal was the unit of currency, named for the Royal family. It wouldn't be the first time he'd seen something like that. "How do you earn it?"

"Selling goods and providing service," Misha said. "Here we are."

Misha and Peter had taken him to a shop, and once past the doors Jensen realized the glass objects up for sale had to have all been made by hand. At the back of the wide store, a doorway opened up to the workroom where he could see some of the work being done, although the heat from the kiln didn't penetrate into the store proper.

The shelves were wide, dark wood that accentuated each individual piece. The sex toys were all along the right, separate from the tiny sculptures on the other side of the store. Jensen investigated them eagerly, comparing the glass dildos to the one he owned, back up on the Mercury. It had been a gift from Senator McKellen, for services rendered, and used only once. He wondered what Jeff would think if he brought one home.

"And they aren't just pretty," Misha murmured at his side. "Some vibrate, some can change temperature, others, I heard mind you, can lube themselves."

"How…?" Jensen asked.

"With Harmony's blessing."

Of course, he should have known better than to ask. Jensen shook his head. He decided against purchasing anything, he had no idea how many credits he had in his account and the last thing he needed was to get him and Jeff into debt on 328. Maybe later, once he found out how much Tal they actually had, he could come back and buy an engagement gift for Jared. He grinned as he imagined the look on his brother's face if Jensen presented him with one of these brightly colored sex toys.

Misha decided on a slim crimson dildo, curved like a giant screw, and brought it up to the counter. Jensen looked around for Peter and found him in conversation with a tall man, a dom by the lack of collar. He drifted over, surprised at the talk he did hear.

"And how is your sister? I know she was waiting for the Choosing before contracting her first sub."

Peter smiled. "She is well. I know she had a private Collaring."

"Ah, yes, that is very like her."

At Jensen's approach, Peter turned and flushed. "Master Davis, this is Sub Jensen. He's one of the visitors from the stars."

Always with that introduction. Jensen refrained from sighing and instead executed a polite bow. "Sir," he said.

"Master Davis was one of my trainers at the Schola."

"And I had the pleasure of training the Princess Alona as well," Davis said with a fond smile. He didn't fit any picture of trainer Jensen had, thinking more of Mistress Albaney, the trainer who had whipped Peter in her over the top leather bustier. This man dressed in flowing leggings, his long dark hair flowed over his shoulders, and he had kind eyes, with smile lines around his lips. "Two of my best pupils."

"Thank you, sir." Peter looked down bashfully.

"I hear you are in Duke Adrian's household now. I must admit I didn't expect you to take the black so quickly. Especially since you showed no sign of masochism in my care." Davis frowned.

Jensen wondered at his daring to speak his mind so plainly, especially in front of a stranger. He expected doms were given much more liberty, and as a trainer, Davis should be high-ranked.

Peter cleared his throat. "Duke Adrian has many varied interests. It's a good placement, I can hardly ask for a higher status."

"No, but status isn't everything. Your friend Sub Erin, for example, joined with a shopkeeper. Her last message was simply glowing with happiness."

"Erin?" Peter's face brightened. "I haven't spoken to her in. . .Thank you, sir, for telling me. I'm glad she's doing well."

"Have you spoken to any of your companions from the Schola, Peter?" Davis asked, head cocked to one side.

Peter stiffened. "I have not had the occasion to, since I do live in Pasdar now."

"Ah, quite correct," but even Jensen could see Davis was only humoring Peter now. "I'm glad you were able to come home for the Choosing, even if you must leave so soon."

"So am I," Peter all but whispered.

"It was good meeting you, Sub Jensen. I wish you safe journey back to your stars," Davis said with a wink before going up to the counter of the shop. Peter stared at him with a thoughtful expression on his face.

Jensen thought back to his own training, he had had many teachers, although General Ferris - Colonel Ferris at the time - had taken a personal interest in him. Perhaps this Davis was the same to Peter? He couldn't begin to guess, he had no idea how many trainers a sub went through while at this Schola.

"You'll have to explain your training system to me, one day," Jensen said.

Peter looked over and smiled. "Sometimes I forget you really don't know much about our city."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

After they left the glass shop, Misha and Peter took him to a few more stores: a leather worker, a clothing store, one that sold toys for children, and yet another with fresh flowers, though Jensen had no idea where those had come from. Mission reports had found no evidence of farms, and he didn't think anyone ventured outside of Harmony's borders. They passed by a set of public baths, though neither made a move to go in. Jensen figured every service in the palace was duplicated out here for the common citizen.

They waited around the fountain for a bit, watching as a wooden stage was set up across from them. Jensen appreciated the moment to rest, his feet tired from the constant walking. He opened his mouth to ask what the stage was for, when Misha jumped to his feet. "Come, I know where the participants in the auction are waiting."

"Oh, Misha not a tavern. We're supposed to set a good example for Jensen."

A tavern? Jensen wondered at that. He hadn't seen any alcoholic beverages, and just assumed this city didn't have any. It would make sense with the risky sex being it's own intoxication. Plus, one needed a clear head for true mastery.

"No," Misha corrected. "We're supposed to show Jensen what life in the city is like. Come."

He led them through the crowd, and down a street away from the main square. Then Misha ducked down an alleyway, which seemed to double back towards the square. Jensen didn't see anyone else coming this way, and he looked back at Peter, who just shook his head.

Misha touched what looked to be just a plain brick wall to Jensen. A wave spread from his fingertips, and a door morphed into being. "Just follow me," he told them before pushing the door open.

Beyond the door, Jensen quickly glanced around the dimly lit room, realizing they were in some kind of backroom, stacks of crates along one wall. Further on he could hear voices - giggling, speaking in a low overtone, one voice louder than the rest. They moved past the backroom and into what looked like a giant dressing room, filled with mirrors, and lights, long couches and racks of clothing.

This was the source of the voices, subs in groups, huddled around mirrors, putting make-up on each other, or trading one outfit for another, though Jensen soon saw that less was clearly more. As they entered, a woman broke away from the group and launched herself at Misha.

"Harmony's tits, Misha, what are you doing here?" she said, throwing her arms around him in big hug. She was tall and muscled, wearing nothing more than a short leather kilt, and a strapless top that pushed her well-formed breasts forward and up.

"Watch you language, Sabine, I have black collars with me," Misha joked back, his voice light.

Sabine looked over Misha's shoulder, giving Jensen and Peter a once over. Dismissing them, she pulled back. "Humph. Not like we don't have some purple bands hanging about for the auction."

Misha seemed shocked. "What?"

She waved a hand over at the other side of the room, where a small group of subs sat. They weren't speaking or laughing like the others, instead they huddled together, every so often looking worriedly at the door. Only then that Jensen noticed every other sub in the room wore a red collar. "They weren't picked up during the open market. Apparently some are desperate enough to try to find a long term master at auction."

"Oh, Sabine, don't tell me. . ."

"What can I say, baby face, you started a trend. More and more of them show up every auction." She shook her head, black curls flying everywhere.

As they spoke, a group of subs who had been in hushed conversation pushed a tiny girl forward. She cleared her throat and asked, her voice cracking. "Excuse me, are you THE Sub Misha?"

Misha laughed. "Yes, love, I am."

Jensen looked over at Peter; it appeared that both of them had been forgotten. "Do you have any idea what is going on?"

Peter crossed his arms over his chest, a stormy expression on his face. "Misha worked the taverns before being bought by Duchess Claudia at auction. He's been with her ever since."

"I take it that's not usual for, ah, red bands?" Jensen hazarded a guess.

"Well, if they do get a long-term master, they usually convert to another color. Misha's the only one who's stayed with the red," Peter said. "He has a rather infamous reputation."

At the sight of so many subs grouping around Misha, eager for his regard and conversation, Jensen could see that.

"He's often held up as an example of the perfect sub," Peter said, his voice dropping in tone. He tilted his head to one side, considering. "It's not an unwarranted description."

Maybe there was a purpose to Misha being the one to have shown so much to Jensen during his time here. He had long wondered why the queen hadn't sent one of her own subs to do the job. "Are you as well-known?" he asked, curious. Peter was the first-born son, sub or not.

"Only as one of Lord Adrian's now."

Clearly, Jensen thought, not as famous as the red band who became the primary of a Duchess. He guessed it wasn't so unusual then, for a sub prince to go to another of the royal court. Misha's rise to fame seemed more spectacular, and he knew from experience those kind of stories always got more attention.

"All right, sluts, line up for inspection!" a burly dom entered the dressing room, a short cat o' nine tails whip in one hand, which he cracked against the wall.

Jensen's heart beat rapidly, oh, he really didn't want to get caught out here, in a place where he and Peter should clearly not be. Then again, no one had paid them any attention so far, they might continue to go unnoticed.

The subs all lined up next to each other, standing shoulder to shoulder, arms clasped behind their back. Misha stood apart, grinning at the dom who suddenly noticed he had extra subs in the room. "Hello, Master Hal," he said.

"Misha," Hal cried, a grin split his heavy features and he dropped the cat to grasp Misha by his forearms. Then he leaned forward and planted a kiss on the sub, Misha's head tilted back and his mouth opened willingly to be devoured by the much larger man. Hal pulled back long enough to say. "Missed you, slut."

Misha blushed, a dark red tingeing his cheeks. Jensen had never seen the normally unflappable sub suddenly gone shy with embarrassment before. "Missed you too, sir."

Hal didn't let Misha go, he kept hold of one arm but freed one hand to cup Misha's face, stroking his jaw in slow tender motions. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see the auction. I wanted to show the back end of things to Sub Jensen." Misha tilted his head back and Hal looked over at Jensen and Peter, his eyes lighting up.

Jensen tugged at his collar, aware of the sudden scrutiny of this bold new dom. He looked over at Peter, willing to take his lead, but Peter stood stock still, his throat working.

"He's the sub from the stars," Hal murmured, coming over to regard Jensen, though he seemed reluctant to leave Misha's side to do so. "The one with green eyes."

Whispers started among the subs, still in lineup. Hal turned around and yelled for them to keep silent. "You lot still need to be inspected!" The talk hushed, and the subs seemed to regain their discipline, standing even more still. Hal circled Jensen, rubbing his chin with one hand. What was he looking for, Jensen wondered? A tail? "Any more like you where you came from?"

Jensen smiled, though even he could feel the strain in it. "I am rather unique."

"I suppose you'll stay to watch the auction." Hal moved back to Misha's side, slipping his arm around the sub's waist. "Will you go on the block?"

"Oh, no." Misha shook his head. "I am happy with my mistress. I would like to help."

"You can call out numbers, the crowd would love you."

Jensen didn't quite know what to think about that, whether Misha just had the opportunity right now to sever everything he had with Claudia. His comm chirped from the inner pocket of his tunic, where he had slid it before coming out to town. "Excuse me," he murmured, but Misha was already engaged in private conversation with Hal, and didn't notice Jensen ducking to the backroom, Peter following.

"Jensen?" Jeff's voice came through.

"Yes, sir," Jensen answered; hoping the 'sir' served as warning enough that he wasn't alone.

"I need you to get back to the palace, ASAP."

Jensen looked up at Peter. "Is something wrong?"

"We'll discuss it when you get back here. Hop on the first tram. Morgan out."

Jensen closed the connection and turned back to Peter.

"Your communication devices are so strange," Peter said.

"But portable." Jensen gave him a brief smile before heading back into the dressing room. He stepped up to Misha, who was watching Hal give the inspection. "I need to return to the palace."

Misha turned and pouted at him. "But the auction hasn't even started yet!"

It wasn't a matter of Jeff being contrary and ordering Jensen back early, something must have happened. But Jensen couldn't explain that right now. "I know. But we have to go."

"Peter can take you back," Misha said. "I'm going to stay."

"Misha!" Peter hissed under his breath. "You know Mistress Claudia would. . ."

"I'm staying, Peter." Misha glared at him.

"It'll be on your ass, then," Peter grumbled. He took Jensen by the arm and led him back the way they had come, his face an angry red. Jensen didn't speak until after they made it back to the alleyway, following as Peter stomped back to the main square.

"Will he be all right?" Jensen asked, wondering if that was what had Peter so upset.

"Oh, he'll be perfectly fine," Peter snapped. "Until his mistress hears about it. He's forbidden from seeing Master Hal, you know."

"No, I didn't."

Peter kept walking, and Jensen kept following, fascinated by his words. They darted through the crowd gathering, Jensen moving quickly to keep up with Peter's angry pace.  "Hal was his first master. He kept Misha as a tavern boy, used by half the city every night. The auctions. . ." Peter waved his hand at the stage, a long wooden structure with a path that led back to the tavern. A row of stocks, holes large enough for hand and hands, lined the very front, and Jensen imagined the waiting subs would be placed there. "You could purchase a tavern sub for an hour, a night, sometimes as long as a week."

"And Duchess Claudia bought him for one of those terms?" Jensen guessed.

They had come to the area where the trams had left them, and Peter put his hand against a tall marked pillar, presumably to summon one. "Yes. It was during a Choosing, like now. I was still in training myself, when it happened. She wanted to keep him, and at first Master Hal would not let Misha out of his contract."

"Ah." Jensen nodded, the situation more clear now.

"Mother had to intervene. Hal couldn't keep Misha if he wanted to go."

"Because red bands can be released at any time," Jensen said, glad his knowledge was becoming more useful.

"He's going to ruin everything he's hoped for," Peter cried, his hands clenching into fists. "How could he just throw that away? She loves him, Jensen, she's everything a good master should be."

A tram slowly hovered down, the doors opening to let throngs of people out, presumably to catch the auction. Jensen put his hand on the small of Peter's back, trying to give some form of comfort. "I just hope he knows what he's doing," Jensen murmured as they got in, the only ones actually leaving the square. He stared out the large windows, not wanting to sit or kneel, his balls had started to ache from the waxing and his ass still throbbed. But Jensen put his body's discomfort aside, too worried for Misha and for whatever Jeff had waiting for them.



Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Epilogue