Master Apprentice Archive The Best of the Bargain Quick search:

Pairing: Obi-Wan/OMC (Q/O hints)

Rating: NC-17

Archive: MA, BIC and my website http://www.ravenswing.com/~mystique

Spoilers: not one

Warnings: Not exactly violent rape, but consent is extremely dubious. Well, it is a slave fic. Also contains some robust language. (That's swearing, folks!)

Summary: Virgin pleasure-boy for sale! Buy your hot Jedi pleasure-boy here! Get 'em while they last!

Notes: So many people have helped me with this story that I'm not quite sure where to start: Wunderbeta Greenie has been fantasic with the later chapters, and really helped me find direction when I was floundering. RavenD, Mac and Smitty have been brilliant, totally invaluable, and MJ, Fukurou and Hilde all offered help and some wonderful suggestions.

I'd also like to thank the lovely ladies in #bic for their patience and tolerance, and Mac for holding my cyber-hand when I got Last Part Postage Kneequiver.

So, yeah, maybe I've had a few drinks, but I want to tell you about this boy I had once. Bear with me, sweet cheeks, it's not much of a tale, but you never know, you might find it entertaining.

It starts on Blevvins, I guess. You know the place? No, I didn't think so. It's not quite the arse-end of the universe, but it's getting there. Just outside of Republic space, it's another one of those border trading systems where you can find everything from the legal-but-exotic to the downright 'lock-you-up-and-throw-away-the-key' stuff. There's a big market for Rim artefacts, ores, crystals, drugs, slaves, droids; you name it. And spice, of course, which is why I was there.

It was about three standard after Jameel... In fact, it was exactly three years since the stupid fuck made a big crater on a small moon, and I suppose that was why I was well on my way to getting drunk that day. I'd got a big payout for a hot shipment out of Kessel, with a nice little earner for the return trip to Verduine, and I was on the lookout for a droid. Something humanoid to help out, clean up after me -- the usual. I should have left it till I'd sobered up, but I was panting to get off of that poxy ball of dirt. So anyway, that's why I was in Saartors having a few more drinks and waiting for the droid auction. There was a couple of service droids available, and an astromech that I was vaguely interested in -- if the price was right.

Saartors is, or rather was, one of the biggest auction houses in Blevvins Port, and the prices were better than most on account of Saartors blind eye to some of the legalities. Anyway, like I said, I was sitting there nursing an ale, feeling a bit maudlin, and trying to ignore the slave sale that was in progress. It was pretty hard, what with the huge vid-screens around the room and all, relaying the exhibition of wares from the central stage, like it was some kind of stage show. Honest, there are people who come just to watch. I don't know how anyone could find this stuff entertaining. They're so depressing. I've got nothing against the slave trade, don't get me wrong, but I reckon its got to be the worst kind of racket to be involved in. The whole miserable parade was nearly over, and I was glad of it.

They usually save the luxury items till last, bringing out the bed slaves and breeders when the usual business has been done. The utility slaves have already been traded, and only the rich and those buyers still with a bit of spare cash burning a hole in their pockets are left.

I actually glanced up from my beer when the last lot came up, just out of curiosity. A 'virgin pleasure boy' the description said, and you know I can't resist a look... And, I'm not making it up, my jaw just dropped. In that second I just saw the most fuckable little morsel I had ever clapped eyes on.

Even now, I don't know what it was about him, exactly. He was an ordinary human male, neither tall nor short, no longer a child, and not quite a man. He was too masculine to be pretty, too slim to be butch, too well muscled to be delicate, and yet he was nothing but desirable. It was the whole package, you see.

He just stood there, calm and dignified. Now, some of these sluts have been traded back and forth so often they just stand there, jiggling their tits or their tails and showing their teeth on cue. Others, well, they just show their fear.

They doll them up, the decorative ones, and they'd done the usual job on this young man. He was near-naked and his body was brushed with some gold glittery powder. They'd done up his short hair so that it shone, this strange little plait snaking down his chest to brush a rouged nipple. And such a lush nipple. A big rosy nub, the kind that you just want to rub your fingers across just to feel it harden under you. I was licking my lips at that, I tell you, and my fingers were itching.

Saartor's handlers pushed the boy into the spotlight and made him turn around and around displaying his body. I guessed they'd given him a mild dose of spice to get him moving in that sexy, languorous way. He was some kind of athlete, I think, or maybe an acrobat. They got him to do a few manoeuvres, handstands, backflips and stretches to demonstrate his physical prowess and his flexibility. He did as he was told, never giving the impression that he was reluctant despite the disdainful expression on his face. He just seemed to take it all in his stride, like he was totally above the whole thing. I have to say, I was impressed.

I had a look at the big information displays, interested now despite myself. I mean, who wouldn't be? The boy's stats weren't particularly exceptional. He was of average height, average weight, but one thing stood out: he'd been mind-wiped.

Mind-wiping. It's sick, as far as I'm concerned. But it gave me pause, you know? It meant that the boy was either a problem slave or, more likely, a recent captive; and to be honest, you never really know where you are with those. Made me wonder where he came from, although I can't say I was really that bothered.

He was being marketed as a decorative virgin pleasure-slave, and, with training, a possible fighter. I could see that. The way he moved was predatory, and I had no problems imagining him being trained up for the arena or for the ring.

It would be a shame though, I thought, as a fighters life would soon re-arrange those even, unremarkable features into something far uglier, and cover that golden body with the marks of a harsh and brutal trade. And, unless they're real special, you know how short those fighters lives usually are. If he was my slave I wouldn't subject him to the ring. I'd keep him by me. Maybe he could be my helper by day, and lover by night. If he was mine, I could fuck him when I pleased. I could run my hands over his body, tease those nipples, bend him over, spread him and prepare him, order him into my bed, open his legs and just take him. Then fuck him till he screamed for mercy. Any time. Any time I wanted. If he was mine.

I don't really know what came over me. Lust, I suppose, because Mister Organ down there was definitely taking an interest at this point. So when the bid light flashed on the monitor, I keyed in my credit code and hit send.

I wasn't the only one, of course. I mean, as soon as this kid had shown up half the audience had been staring at him with their tongues hanging out. Whoever was operating the data screens wanted everyone to get a good eyeful, too. They kept flashing up pictures of his hands and chest and face, all made up to look like some whore. And it was working! The bids were climbing higher and higher and Saartor was looking mighty pleased with himself.

Now Saartor was a pus filled slime-bag if ever there was one. Dead now, for cheating a Hutt, and that's one mistake you don't ever make twice. Anyway, he was sliding his hands over this boy, describing all his attributes in detail. Actually got a bit of a reaction from the boy, who was trying to lean away from those greedy hands without being obvious about it. Maybe he really was a virgin after all, I thought.

I realized at this point that if I had my way I wasn't going to get these droids, but I didn't really care, not after Saartor made the boy take his pants off. Not that those things cover much, anyway. This kid, well he might have been young, but he was definitely no little boy, if you know what I mean.

The boy was discreetly trying to cover himself, and Saartor, the creep, was trying to bat his hands away and uncover the goods. I would have missed it, because the screens were choosing that moment to flash huge images of his naked and rather pert butt around the room, but just when he did it, I was actually looking directly at him instead of the screens. You know what he did? Quick as a flash, he grabbed one of Saartors flabby hands and put him in a thumb lock. Just like that. He didn't know what to do then, and a look of confusion came over his face, so he let go. But at least Saartor stepped back and stopped handling the merchandise.

Interesting.

Well, that should have put me off right then and there, but damn, I was hot for this boy, and he didn't scare me. I mean, he didn't look like a hard case, you know. And, I hate to admit it, there was something about him that reminded me a bit of Jameel, even though they looked nothing alike.

I was pretty lucky. That little demonstration had been caught by more than a few observant buyers, and a lot of them dropped out. Saartor was rubbing his hand and looking daggers at the boy, who was steadfastly ignoring him, but he was pretty happy to take my credits in the end. So how easy was that? Walk into an auction house, one hour and a bit of cash later and suddenly I'm a slave owner

So there I was, proud owner of one fairly decorative, probably dangerous, possibly virgin pleasure slave. Saartor looked almost glad to be rid of him when he handed me the papers and the transmitter for the implant. You've heard of that? The Hutts started using them on their slaves years ago, and now everyone's doing it. Brutal but effective. It's like a little bomb, somewhere in the slave's body. One touch on the trigger and blammo! Instant slave porridge.

He was making out like he was quite an obedient little thing. I say "little", but he was nearly as tall as me, just not so well built. Yeah, I know, I'm a fine figure of a man. We headed back to the ship and he fell into step about half a pace behind me and to the left, like he'd been doing it forever. I had to push him to make him walk in front of me where I could keep an eye on him. He might have been unarmed, but I'm no fool, and I'd seen that fancy move he pulled on Saartor. The kid was by no means completely tamed. Anyway, I figured he was only going along with this obedience thing until he could figure out a way of escaping, but with the detonator remote in my hot little hands, that wasn't an option just yet.

He still didn't act much like a slave. He was looking around him, taking everything in, instead of keeping his eyes down like he was supposed to. Yeah, definitely new at the job. We got quite a few looks, I can tell you, going back to the spaceport, a shabby looking freighter captain and a half naked youth, painted gold and jingling.

Now I had this boxy-looking little barge back in those days, with the usual modifications, of course, but she didn't look like much from the outside. My purchase raised his glittering eyebrows at the sight of the ship but wisely said nothing. By the time we got aboard the old girl he was actually beginning to look a little apprehensive. He didn't look scared exactly, but he was looking at me in a way that made me think he was trying to decide whether to fight or flee. I didn't give him the option.

"See this here? Know what it is?" I said, holding up the detonator remote. He nodded, twice. "Well, I'm holding on to it for now, so don't get any clever ideas. Understand? You pull anything, anything at all, and you're a nasty red smear on the deck."

There was a pause, and he nodded again. "Yes, Master."

His accent was curious, very refined. I bet he was from the galactic core somewhere. You don't learn to talk like he did out here on the rim.

"Get your pants off." I told him. He did so, really slowly, and I was grinning all the time. Yeah, it was a pretty good view all right. "Now go and shower. Wash that shit off your face."

He looked a bit surprised, but he hopped off down to the 'fresher, quick as a flash. I expect he'd thought I was going to screw him to the flight deck floor, right there and then. Nah. I was going to take my purchase home, unwrap it gently and enjoy it fully.

I was busy while he was cleaning up. Made a few modifications. I could tell already that it was going to be quite tricky to break this one in, make him submit to me and I was looking forward to it. You know me, I love a challenge.

He came back stark naked, and I made him stand under the lights so I could get a good look. Hmm, well he was a little younger than I'd thought at first, maybe 18 or 19 standard, good and strong, nice firm youthful body, It wasn't like he was perfect or anything, but he was pretty good all round. I could see why they'd covered him in that gold gunk though. He looked worn and tired and, from the fading yellow marks on his body, I guessed he'd been in a bit of a battle. A week or so earlier, perhaps.

"So, you're a virgin?" I asked. It was looking more and more unlikely, considering the placement of some of those bruises.

He shrugged eloquently. "I might as well be."

"Master," I reminded him. I knew what he meant, though. If he'd ever done it before, he didn't recall the event.

"Well, with those mind wipes, your brain might forget, but the body remembers," I told him. He seemed to consider that. "So, what'd you get mind wiped for?"

"Fighting, I think, er... Master," he said. Then he showed me his hands, which were as bruised as his body. "There was a guard with a broken arm who seemed to have it in for me, so I suppose I hit him or something."

I was impressed. Slave guards don't go down easy, as you might have guessed. Still, this was all getting a little too cosy. The boy seemed to have forgotten he was just property and it was time to do a little reminding.

"All right." I said to him. "I hope you're a fast learner, because I'm only gonna say this once. I don't care who you were, or who you think you were, right now I own you. Rules are simple. Do what I say, and do it right away. No-back answering. No questioning my orders. And under no circumstances whatsoever are you to attempt to escape. It would be futile, and the consequences for you would be terrible."

He looked pretty mutinous. "What will you do to me?"

"I could do anything I wanted, boy, and no-one would give a damn. You know what happens to slaves who harm their owners, don't you?"

He nodded and his eyes turned cold, like space. "I saw it done once at Saartors."

Well that was good. At least I didn't have to describe it. They'll track 'em down and bring 'em back, you know, escaped and murdering slaves, whoever owns them. The Slave Guilds, I mean. Its not in their interests to let slaves think they can ever, ever get away with it. And it can take up to three days to die on the wheel.

"See this?" I said to him, holding up the remote again. "Well, I've been fiddling. It's now set to go off if you get more than a standard mile from it. And in case you have any ideas of taking the remote and running with it, I've keyed it to blow unless a code is entered every 5 hours. And only I know the code."

I can be pretty devious when I want to be. He looked a bit nervous at that, although he covered it quickly. Waking up every 5 hours isn't a problem for me, as I've been pulling 5 hour shifts since I followed my Pappy into space, but he wasn't to know that. And if he killed me and ran, 5 hours wasn't long enough to get anywhere.

He stood there looking at me. Just looking. Then he licked his lips and rubbed his hands against his thighs. Sweaty palms, I expect. I thought it was funny. He was still wondering when I was going to releive him of his highly-dubious virginity.

Well, I let him sweat for a minute or so before I handed him a pair of old overalls. They were probably Jameel's once, because they were too small for me, and a bit grubby, but I must have kept them around to use as rags or something. I think that was why I still had them. Anyway, they nearly fit him.

I got him to shift some half-mended equipment off the co-pilots chair and sit there while I went through pre-flight. Didn't take long, and he sat there and watched, once pointing to some light that was flashing when it shouldn't be.

"Your laundry's done," he said cheekily. I hit the console, and the light stopped blinking, but it was clear the kid knew ships. Good.

It took about an hour to pull out of Blevvins Port, and the boy sat there silently throughout. Space. I love it. I love it when we finally clear orbit, escape the gravity that drags us down, and we're free. I looked over at the boy, and guess what? He'd fallen asleep.

He must have been exhausted. I mean, he wasn't faking it or anything. He was out like a light.

I was sobering up by this point, and beginning to think I might have made a big mistake. I was going to have to feed and clothe this kid, train him to serve me and probably teach him nearly everything he needed to know. Yeah, I was in a bit of a spot, all right. But, it's funny, as I looked down at him tucked up there in Jameel's chair, wearing Jameel's clothes, I began to wonder if I'd got myself a bargain.

So, where was I? Oh yeah. Heading home, the proud new owner of a pleasure slave with an attitude. So when's the interesting bit, you ask? Well, it's coming.

Ok. So the kid was awake and looking a bit perkier by the time we arrived on Verduine. He knew how to handle the cargo haulers and between us we got the job done pretty damned quick, athough I wasn't stupid enough to leave him unsupervised. Still, I was pretty pleased with the way things were going, even though I knew the real test was gonna come later, when I got him home.

At that time, I had this little place in Varlun Port City, close to the spacedock, and when we finished I took him there. He stalked in warily, as if checking the place for bugs, and then proceeded to inspect every corner. I half expected him to mark his territory. Damned kid.

"Do you have a name, then?" I asked him. There was nothing on his papers but the serial number of the mini-bomb and Saartor's mark.

He shrugged. "They just called me 'boy'," he said. So 'Boy' it was.

Well, it was too early for bed, by local time. Time to relax a little and think about how I was going to deal with this kid. I mean, I'd never owned another sentient before. If I'd had fantasies about pleasure slaves it had usually been about me showing up at Lo Masri's with a pair of matched Twi'leks on my arm and flaunting my new found wealth. Or perhaps some willing little hussy keen to do my bidding, in bed or out of it. I'd never imagined some wary and untamed youth, nearly as tall as I was, and clearly reluctant.

I got him to fetch me a drink and then set him to work cleaning up and preparing a meal. He made some muttered comment about hoping I hadn't bought him for his cooking but he bowed and started without much fuss.

I watched him for a bit. He was quiet and pretty efficient, although he kept stopping and looking confused, before grimacing and continuing. I figured he'd learn eventually. I wondered idly about having him clean in the nude. I could admire the rather nice hip-swaying way he walked, watch the ripples of his belly as he moved, and then oh so accidentally drop things and make him bend over to pick them up... The Old Man was twitching again at the thought but I decided to let it go for the moment.

I really found it quite soothing to have the kid pottering around in the background. I turned on the holo-net, trying to find the next job. Spending most of my spare cash on the boy, useful as he might turn out to be, meant that I was going to have to find a nice little earner a bit quicker than I'd intended. I was just tossing up between taking stim-sticks to Krispituar Moon or trying to catch another Kessel spice run when there was an almighty crash behind me. I sprang up to see the boy staring aghast at the splattered ruins of a cooking pot.

"I'm sorry, Master," he gasped, far more distressed than a simple busted pot would warrant. He plummeted to his knees and started trying to scrape the shattered peices together with his bare hands. "I was just... I don't know! There's something missing!" He was clearly angry now and I could see him trying to still the trembling of his hands. "I'm doing something, and then as soon as I try to think about what it is I'm doing it just... slips away! I don't know anything!"

I walked to the wall-com and hit the button for the auto-vac. It scuttered over and began to shift the stinking mess. He watched it, glowering.

"Boy," I said. "Look at me."

He looked up, the frown fading into apprehension. Ordinarily, I wouldn't mind having him on his knees in front of me but yeah, it got to me, the misery in his eyes.

"Look, kid," I told him. "It's just the mind-wipe. Things aren't going to make much sense for a bit, but you'll soon re-learn what you need to know. You'll adapt."

He didn't look much re-assured.

"What if I don't?" his voice was almost a whisper.

Don't tell anyone I'm such a softie but I felt for him, really I did. So I told him.

"Your memories aren't gone, Boy. They're just locked away where you can't consciously get at them. A mind wipe doesn't work by erasing everything that you know. Even if they could do that, it would leave you a mindless idiot and completely useless as a slave.

"You'll soon find there are things that you already subconsciously know how to do, and there'll be other things that you'll have to learn from scratch. Like I said, you'll adapt. Don't sweat it."

He seemed to consider this a moment. "If my memories are locked away somehow, does that mean that somewhere there is a key that will... unlock them?"

I sighed at that. "No kid. Don't even think about it. Whatever your life was before, and I'm damned certain you were no-one's property, it's gone just as surely as those memories and hankering after it isn't going to bring it back. It's over. Get used to it."

"But if I find out what I'm familiar with then maybe I can work out who..."

"I said no!" I grabbed him by the front of the jumpsuit and hauled him up so I could yell in his face. "Stupid kid! I don't care who you were! I don't wanna know! And it's what I want that matters around here!" I dropped him, and he hit the floor with a thud. "And if you don't start calling me 'Master' I'm going to put you in a pain collar."

His jaw set, and I could see from the look of determination that he had made up his mind about something or other. "Yes, Master."

I let it go. If he wanted to pluck at his past well that was his business. It didn't matter. Whoever he was, he was mine now, and I was going to keep him.

The meal was a write off, so I pulled out some nutri-bars from the stock of ship's spares I kept on hand, and we ate in silence. A couple more drinks took the last edge off my hunger.

Afterwards, I had him make up a pallet in what had been a storage room. It was small and plain but it would do for a slave. Not that I expected him to be spending a lot of time there, when he would be warming my bed; the extra huge bed I had him put silk sheets on. He looked at me funny then, twisting his mouth as if he wanted to say something but in the end he said nothing. I left him to it, grabbed another drink and went back to the holo-net.

I was quite absorbed, and he was so quiet, I didn't even notice he wasn't there for a few minutes. I had a scare, I tell you. Thought the boy might have done a runner already. I soon found him on the balcony looking out at the setting sun. He turned towards me looking almost friendly for a change, but his face fell when he realised it was me. I felt a bit annoyed. Who did he think it was going to be?

"So, what you think of it, Boy?" I thought he wasn't going to answer me at first,

"It's beautiful, Master," he said finally. "I love to watch the sunset."

He must have been talking about his previous life, as I doubt he'd have seen much outside of Saartor's slave pens since the mind-wipe. And then he added "And the settlement is very... picturesque."

Well yeah, it's pretty, with its hills rolling down to the ocean and all that tourist holo-ad guff, but no local would describe Varlun as a 'settlement'. It's as big a city as you're likely to find out in that section of the rim.

All right, enough of dillying around, I thought. It was time. I put my hand heavily on the boy's shoulder. There was no way he could mistake my meaning.

He turned slowly towards me, his jaw clenching and his expression just beginning to glaze over into passive resistance. I got a bit annoyed at that. I mean, look at me! I'm not an unnattractive guy, am I? What was so distasteful for him, the little inner world snob?! I shoved him in the back, none too gently, and pushed him towards the bedroom.

He stripped at my command, slowly and reluctantly. I swore that I was going to stay in control here, even though part of me just wanted to fling him to the floor right then and there and rub his superior little nose in it. Another part of me, and you know which part I'm talking about, was quite happy to sit back and enjoy the slow peel.

I'd seen him naked before but this was a real turn on -- the long slow glide of his hand down the front of the overalls and the glimpse of the smooth flesh beneath. Even the sight of his lowered eyelashes, the even white teeth biting his lower lip and the embarrassed pink flare of his cheeks was exciting.

I was panting slightly myself, the Old Man firming pleasantly as the lad skimmed the jumpsuit down to his waist and paused, looking up to me for approval. I nodded, too caught up in the moment to speak. I knew the kid could feel it too, the rising current of lust and fear and expectation.

His eyes closed for a second as he pushed the overalls down over his hips, let them drop to his ankles and stepped out of them. Straightening, he allowed his hands to drop to his sides where he stood and looked up at me, as snooty as some rich kid. Only the way his fists were clenching and unclenching showed how nervous he really was. I took my time. It was my first real chance to inspect the merchandise close up and personal. Like I said, he was no small thing. I licked my dry lips at the sight of his heavy sex with its halo of coppery curls.

I circled him as he stood there, my own living doll. I was pretty amused to find he had a little tail in the back of his hair as well as the braid by his ear. I'd assumed the long plait was some kind of inner world fashion, but maybe this was the new haircut they were giving to pleasure slaves. After all, what were these strange locks of hair if not a handle and a leash?

Nice. Yes, he was very nicely put together. I couldn't resist touching him gently, smoothing a finger down the straight spine and sliding it gently over the tight round globes of his backside then round to the tight belly I admired so much. I was directly in front of him now, so close our bodies were almost touching, but not yet, not yet.

I used the other hand to lift his chin and found myself staring into a pair of cool grey eyes. Those eyes held mine, challenging, even as my hand moved down to enfold his cock. Such a soft and heavy handful. My fingers cupped his balls and I felt them tighten slightly in my grasp. He didn't flinch for a moment, just lifted his chin a little and stared me down.

Oh, this was going to be sweet. My own bed slave. My very own walking, talking sex-toy. Mine.

"All right, Boy." I said to him, stepping back and releasing him. "I'm not in the habit of fucking people unwilling, but you're a slave. My slave. And consent just doesn't come into it."

I pointed to the bed. "Go on then, kid. Get yourself over there."

I don't know why he balked then. Maybe it was just sinking in what it was we were going to do. He just looked at the bed, shaking his head. Then he looked at me.

"Master... I can't do this," he said.

I exploded. "By Balla's tits! You're a fucking pleasure slave!" What was the boy playing at? I had no idea at that point. "Or rather, right now, you're a non-fucking pleasure slave! What use is that to me? Do it! Now!"

My wit went right over his head. He lifted his chin and stared at me down his nose. Hard to do when your shorter, but he managed it somehow.

"You misunderstand, Master," he said evenly. "I... can't."

Well, this was awkward. I could do this one of two ways, I thought. I could just hit him, force him, simply take what was mine. I'm no slouch with my fists, not in my line of work. And the fear of what could happen to him if he harmed me might just keep him from fighting back. I didn't have to be gentle with him. He belonged to me and I could do what I wanted with him. The thing is -- I just couldn't get my head round the idea of holding someone down while I fucked 'em.

So I just sighed. And I put him straight.

"Look, Boy, you have it pretty good here. You could easily have ended up with some monster who wanted nothing but to beat you till you screamed and then screw you raw. Or you could have ended up in an Outer Rim Brothel, chained to a bed and used as fuckmeat by anyone with a bit of cash."

He looked a bit pale at this, but it must have occurred to him already. Surely he wasn't totally naive. Maybe he was hoping I was a soft touch or something. Well, I'm not that soft.

I rubbed it in a bit more. "There's worse. There's places where they make you fight, and fight again till you're so beat up you don't know space from dirt. Punters pay to watch you fight and bleed, bet on you, and some will pay to fuck you afterwards with the blood still dripping from your wounds."

"How can people..." he muttered, shaking his head.

"Now, I'm not like that." I cut him off. He seemed smart enough, let him work out which way the spanner was turning.

"I ain't going to say that you might not be useful to me in lot of ways," I told him. "You look like you could be handy on board ship and around the house. But that's not the reason why I shelled out hard cash for you."

Oh, he was paying attention now. His jaw hadn't lost that mutinous set, but he was looking at me closely.

"I bought you because I wanted you in my bed with your ass in the air and legs spread, crying 'Fuck me, Master!'."

I guess it finally got through to him. A look of resignation was beginning to creep across his face. Funny, in a strange way I almost regretted it.

"So, you understand, that if you can't fulfil those obligations then I'm just going to have to sell you and try to get my money back. And after that, who knows where the fuck you'll end up, eh?"

Well hooray, at last he understood. He drew himself up until he was once again as calm and dignified as when I first saw him, and nodded. "I understand... Master."

Shit! Was he going to continue acting as if this was some distasteful service? I squashed the brief surge of irritation. I mean... he had it easy. But I knew then, even if I hadn't known for sure before, that the boy had been a free man not a slave. This was something outside his experience, even if he didn't know it himself. I sighed.

"Don't act like this is so hard, Boy. It's not very flattering. Just pretend like I'm your lover, someone you want."

He gave me an incredulous grimace. "And what lover would that be, Master?"

Uhuh, right. Stupid of me. Then I got inspired and started grubbing around in my dresser. Yeah, there it was, an old jar of spice. I'd got into it a bit after Jameel's accident, needing something to help me forget the little shit, but after a while it just made me feel worse so I gave it up. Still had a bit lying around for those occasional binges though.

I took a finger-dip and tasted it. It was still okay even if it was a bit old. I held the jar out to the kid, who looked at it in bafflement. I sighed. Only one day, and his ignorance was already getting mighty old. I had to tell him how to wet his finger, dip it into the loose powder, and then lick the spice off it.

"It's a bit unsanitary, isn't it, Master?" he said, looking dubiously at the little pot like it was poison.

I just cracked up. "Boy... are you worried about sharing a little bit of spit with me?"

So, you know what I did? I gave my finger a real good wet, nice and slobbery like, got a good fingerful and held it out to him. Ha, ha. Well, the look on his face was absolutely fucking priceless. I can't describe it. You just had to be there.

I made him lick my finger and smiled at him. I was already buzzing a bit, feeling good, so I grabbed him and started licking the stray specks of spice off his lips. "C'mon kid," I said finally, "don't think about it. This doesn't have to be any harder than it has to be. I'll make it good for you. Just... live in the moment."

"Yes, Master," he muttered, very sulky, and lifted his arms to wrap around my neck. The spice obviously hadn't kicked in yet, since he was about as enthusiastic as the proverbial Hutt's bride.

"Open up for me," I mumbled against his mouth. The kid's lips parted with a bit of a moan. I plunged my tongue in, tasting his salt and spice. It felt so good. Whores won't let you kiss them but this time I'd paid for the whole package. His body was pliant in my arms, moulding itself to me as I pulled him even closer, but he wasn't exactly eager and he was still limp where it counts.

"Close your eyes," I told him. "Just let go and feel the sensations. Go with the flow..."

Boy turned his head away. "Master..." he began, sounding uncertain. "I... ah, I'm sorry if I displease you, but I don't really know what to do."

Well, that's the trouble with virgins, you see. I don't see the appeal in them really, not when you have to teach them everything, and they always cost extra as far as I can tell. I suppose some people like that kind of thing, the taking of innocence, or perhaps they just want to feel that newness beneath them, just like the rich old sods who buy new skimmers every year because they like the smell of brand new plas-nylon.

"Just start by undressing me, Boy," I told him. "Don't be afraid."

"I'm not afraid," he snapped. "There is no fear, only..." He broke off, shaking his head.

His hands were steady as he helped me out of my clothes and knelt to pull my boots off. There might have been a little trace of fear in his eyes when he first slid my pants down and saw the Monster nestled between my thighs. Well, maybe. I like to think there was.

I pulled him up by that handy braid and then pushed him until his legs hit the bed behind him. A quick shove and he fell backwards onto the sheets. I started pulling his arms into place above his head and gently spreading his legs until he was arranged to my satisfaction, all four limbs pointing to the corners of the bed.

The Boy was beautiful. Just perfect, lying there splayed for me and looking up at me with those big spice-dark eyes. Oh this was definitely one of my better buys. I leant over and tried to kiss the frown off his face before reaching out and closing his eyelids.

"Don't open your eyes, Boy. You're not allowed to move," I whispered. "You lie still, sweet cheeks, and I'll show you how much fun this can be. Just let the spice work, let the sensations flow through you..."

A slow and steady seduction, I thought, and he'd be putty in my hands. You know I usually like it a bit more rough and ready, but there's a time and place for gentleness. Show them the reward before you show them the whip.

I started with his hand, my nail scratching little circles on the palm. His fingers twitched, but he didn't move. Then I worked my way up, watching as my spider light touches raised goosebumps along his arm. I knew that with his eyes closed he could only anticipate by feel where I would touch him next. I began to tease his body, noting which feathery caresses made him squirm a little more, how his breath caught when I traced a line along his side with a fingernail, and how his nipples hardened when I licked them and then blew on them.

Boy was pressing into my touch now, biting down gently on his lower lip in his concentration. The way he was responding was just... so lovely, making me so fucking hard. I hadn't thought it would be this easy.

I kept him guessing, knowing that his vulnerable position would make him nervous and that the spice was intensifying his every sensation. Sometimes I'd work quickly, moving from one sensitive patch of skin to another so he could never be certain where the next touch would be coming. At other times I'd sit back on my heels just to watch him, waiting as moment stretched out and his breathing became ragged uneven gasps of mingled dread and desire.

I traced my fingers over his bruises, sometimes soothing them, occasionally pressing down on the tender skin to get him whimpering. It pissed me off that someone had dared to mark the merchandise. Well from then on, I swore, he'd wear no man's bruises but mine.

The spice was going to my own head too. I felt like I was playing some complicated stringed instrument, moving my hands gently over the keys, plucking at his body and and bringing forth music. Each touch was rewarded with a moan or a gasp or a twitch. A symphony of passion. Okay, that sounds so corny but you know what its like when you're spiced.

I knelt between his spread legs, licking up his inner thighs and tasting the sweat there. The spice was definitely working by now, the hard evidence inches from my face. His hips were lifting slightly from the bed, pumping the air as I did a little tongue-dance upwards towards his groin. I purposely ignored the straining flesh in front of me, chuckling to myself, pleased to see he was enjoying it. I moved up again to take one of those pink nipples between my fingers. I squeezed, pressing harder and harder until he gasped and I smoothed away the hurt with my lips. Then I did the same with the other. When I looked up his eyes were open, watching me.

"You're... its excruciating!" he said.

"Mine," I said, grinning and sitting back on my heels. "You're all mine. And now, my sweet Boy, you have to roll over because I'm going to claim you."

Slug-a-beasts move faster than Boy did, but eventually he was lying on his belly, panting in nervousness, with me once more kneeling between his splayed legs. I took my sweet time again, watching his reaction as I caressed those sweet round cheeks, breathed on the back of his knees, scraped my nails through the small hairs of his thighs. It's an art form, you know. A sharp slap across his rump startled him and he flinched away, pushing his trapped erection into the bed.

"Please," he moaned, "before I lose my nerve."

Well, it wasn't up to him, and I even thought about dragging it out a bit longer, just to teach the little brat a lesson, but I was fair bursting myself. I wanted inside him, desperately. I pulled him up so he was on his knees and got out my trusty tube o' lube.

There's something religious about lubing up a lover for the first time. Something ceremonial, don't you think? I always think so anyway. Ok, so maybe you don't always follow the script, maybe you want it hard and fast and you skip a few steps, but... when you want it to mean something you try and do it right. I was careful, adding each finger slowly, feeling the tension and the thrill of anticipation building in my belly with each ritual step.

I hope the kid could feel it too, really I do, the care I took over him. But he just had his face buried in the pillow and the only sounds that came out of him were muffled moans. I'm sure he liked it though.

Finally, when I just couldn't take it any more, I pulled him up closer to me and pushed his knees further apart with my own. He was trembling and tense but he wasn't going to get any readier. A dollop of lube for me and then I was ready too, carefully positioned at the puckered entrance to his body. My knees were beginning to shake as I finally pushed in.

He howled like a fucking wookiee, and I was only in a tiny bit.

"No, no, wait please master..." he was almost sobbing. "...hurts, oh it hurts... oh no, no."

I said to him, "Shhhhh... relax," and held his hips tight to stop him crawling away from me. It was so hard to hold back, not to just ram in and take what was mine, but I didn't want to hurt him. Well, no more than necessary.

I gave him a few seconds to get over it. He'd already taken the hard part and now it was just a question of slowly pushing forward until I was finally deep inside of him. It felt like coming home.

He froze beneath me, trembling slightly and his back was as stiff as steel. He didn't try to pull away though, and if he cried out it was mostly buried in the pillow. I gave him a few moments to get relaxed again before I started moving.

He was as tight as a Hutt's wallet, and I told him so.

The spice helped, I guess. He'd gone limp, but I reached around and gave him a helping hand and soon he was firming nicely in my grasp. I moved within him, slick and steady, building the heat. I soon had him writhing under me, pushing himself back onto me, moving with me. He couldn't help it really.

Beads of sweat were dripping onto his smooth back as I concentrated on driving him wild, flying us both home. Oh, it was so good, so fucking good. He was murmuring something, a name I thought, it was too muffled to hear. I pulled him up, wanting to hear him moaning in pleasure, wanting to hear him wail, wanting to hear him screaming as he came.

He was gasping in little hiccoughing sobs, his breath hitching with each hard thrust inside him. I could hear what he was saying now. It was "mah...mah...Master! My... Master!"

I think I was in love! He was oh so beautiful, so fucking sweet and he wanted it, wanted me... I pulled him close and held him, shifting his weight until I was certain I was hitting him in just the right spot. Just a little further, just a little harder and then he was spurting out all over the sheets with a wail. "Master! Oh! Master!"

It tipped me right over and I was howling home so hard it felt like my very brain was pulsing out of me through my cock. I emptied myself completely inside him, leaving me nothing but the quivering shell of a man slowly collapsing to the bed.

I barely had the energy to roll off him as he wriggled out from under me and headed to the fresher. I managed to mumble, "Mind you come back here when you're done," before the door closed behind him. But I was wrung out, and the last thing I remember was listening to the hissing of the water in the shower going on and on.

Well, it was nice to wake up next to a warm body for a change. I was comfortable, sleepy and content, but something was nagging at me. Then I remembered and scrambled awake.

Fuck! Have you any idea how close I came to waking up next to a corpse? I was out of the bed in a flash and bounding into the next room to grab the detonator remote. Too fucking close. Then I had to have a shower to wash away the cold sweat. All that money was nearly wasted, and the kid...

Funny how guilt makes you act. I even thought about bringing him breakfast in bed before I realised that was something a man does for his lover, not a Master for his slave. I sighed at that. If I was going to stay in charge, I was going to have to keep up the 'Master' bit.

Boy was still asleep. He'd crawled in next to me some time in the early hours and laid himself carefully along the edge of the bed. I'd been half awake and pulled him to me, one hand idly fondling him, but during the night he'd wormed his way free again. I guess he just wasn't a snuggler.

So he was lying there dead to the world, wearing nothing but a frown, his thin plait trailing across the pillow. I admired my sleeping property for a few moments and then tipped him out onto the floor. He was on his feet and into a defensive fighting stance before he was even fully awake.

"Breakfast," I barked at him. "Bring it here. Don't bother to dress."

"Yes, Master," he said sullenly, and I watched his pretty ass as he stalked towards the kitchen.

When I'd eaten, and he'd sort of picked at a bit, I set aside the tray and lay back in the bed, feeling comfortable and happy. Life was good. Life was fucking wonderful. I could see I was making quite a hill in the sheet. Actually, it was a mountain. I twitched the sheet back so that Mr Organ could have his breakfast too.

"Go on, Boy," I told him. "Get down on that."

He didn't look very happy about the idea. Well, it is a bloody big mouthful.

I said to him, very patient, "Look... you can think of it as an experiment. See if you remember ever sucking cock before.

"Here," I licked a finger, dipped it in the spice jar and offered it to him. His eyes closed briefly and then he leaned forward, parting his lips so I could thrust my finger inside. He suckled gently, skimming my finger with his tongue, and then swallowing around the digit. My tongue went all dry, and I had to use the slick from his mouth to take my own dose.

Well, I lay back again and motioned him down. His expression was totally unreadable as he lowered his face to my groin and took an experimental lick along my shaft. I moaned, and waited for the spice to kick in. Yes...

No, he didn't seem to know what he was doing. I had to guide him a little, but he picked it up real quick, so maybe he was experienced. Maybe he'd just thought about doing it or, more likely, had it done for him. Hard to tell. Whatever, by the time he had one hand wrapped around my cock and the rest of it in his pretty mouth I was flying on spice and sex. I could have fucked his face forever, except he was beginning to snuffle and choke a little as I got more enthusiastic about it.

I grabbed hold of that funny braid of his and hauled his head up to look me in the eyes. "Up here," I said, and pulled.

He slithered up my body until he was lying on top of me, wiping a hand across his face. I could feel he was only half hard, despite the drug, but I figured that was only because I'd been getting all the attention. OK, time to rectify that, I thought, and I grabbed his hips and started grinding against him. He gave this funny little gasp as the friction started to have the expected effect on his body, and he dropped his head down next to mine, spreading his legs to straddle my body.

I shifted my grip to get a double handful of that firm ass, pulling him to me, feeling his muscles bunch and squeeze in response as we rocked together. My fingers spread his cheeks apart, probing for the ridged flesh that was the entrance to his body. He winced a little as I worked one in. He'd need more than that though, so I shifted him aside, reached for the lube and handed it to him.

"You know what it's for," I said to him. "Better get some practice."

Well, he squeezed some out onto two shaky fingers and reached round to prepare himself. He was doing that lip biting thing again and, apart from when he squeezed another glob out, three fingers this time, he kept his eyes closed. Finally I couldn't wait any more and pointed to my rampaging cock.

"Now, you know what to do, Boy." I said. "Sit on it."

I laid back and those clear, grey eyes pinned me in my place. He lubed me up then positioned himself above me and slowly lowered himself down. Now I'm no small thing, and he'd gotta be sore, but still, he took it like a man.

When he came, his hands gripping my arms so hard he left marks, he called out to me again. "Master!" he cried as he painted my belly. The kid just managed to hold on long enough for me to see sparks too, and then he collapsed on top of me. I held him close as we both dozed off.

And so we settled into a bit of a routine for a week or so. Until the stim-stick job, I didn't have much on apart from a shuttle run or two. During the day I used the time to tinker with some of the systems on the barge. Boy stood around handing me spanners, sometimes getting in the way, but generally keeping himself busy and useful. He had some funny notions though, like sitting quietly in the middle of the common room after breakfast. He soon gave it up after about the third time I tripped over him, finally lost it and yelled his ear off. He didn't seem to know why he was doing it anyway.

Another thing; it's lucky we weren't on someplace like Noa Rimor or Tattooine, the amount of water the kid seemed to go through. He had this obsession with personal hygeine, ducking into the shower at every opportunity. Still, he always tasted clean, except when I made him sweat.

Then there was the dancing. Most evenings he would clear an area and start moving around, sometimes with his eyes closed or with a little frown of concentration on his face. Sometimes it would be acrobatic, sometimes martial with fast high kicking steps and blocks, but mostly it was as if he was performing some kind of ritual. I made him do it naked, seeing as how I might as well enjoy it too. It was interesting to watch him fumbling for the right steps, although it sometimes made me uncomfortable to see that he hadn't taken my advice. He was still trying to remember before.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked him once, annoyed at his persistence.

"I can feel... I can feel it singing," he said, and the funny thing is, I could almost understand what he meant. As I watched him he seemed to move with some unseen, unheard rhythm, yet I could feel it too. A couple of times, out of the corner of my eye, it almost seemed as if he was glowing. It must just have been a trick of the light as when I turned, startled, there was just Boy moving gracefully through the steps he'd been working on.

He hardly ever used the little closet room I gave him. I quickly got used to waking up next to that stiff back and using my hands or lips to gradually make him melt into the shape I wanted. In the end he slept in my bed every night and only ever used his own little space to keep his clothes in.

Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you about the clothes and stuff. Of course, he'd come with nothing but a pair of see-through pants and a bit of glitter. Owners are expected to provide everything else. All he had, apart from the pants, was Jameel's old rags. I'd left all of Jameel's other stuff on Aud Nuevo, or burned it, and nothing of mine fit. It was just two sizes too big on him, made him look like a child. That was no good. It wouldn't do to have my partner looking like easy prey for the roughs and the cons. Not in this line of business, anyway. So, we went shopping.

Shopping was fun. Yeah, you heard me right. Shopping was fun. Well, it was certainly the most laughs I've ever got out of a shopping trip. Minna, my little sis, had a doll she used to dress up, and I never saw the attraction in it until I had one of my own.

I had to get him shoes first of all, as he'd been going barefoot. Shoes for portside and sturdy leather boots for the ship as you know how cold decking gets in space.

We had to get new clothes too. First off I got him a couple of standard outfits, nothing fancy, just for day to day wear. Then I decided to have a bit of fun. The choice was staggering. There were satin pants, little druba-hide loincloths, skimpy silken tunics and velvet jackets, all stuff I'd never be seen dead in myself, but I just knew it was going to look fantastic on my nubile little Boy. Show all his attributes to best advantage. Oh, I had all these fond fantasies about walking into Barapa's or somewhere, Boy at my heels in a short gold tunic and sandals, and all those old farts just creaming in envy that I'd got such a hot little handful at my beck and call.

I picked out a few outfits before I found something that made me really drool. It was a pair of strappy leather pants, all holes and buckles with very little left to the imagination, and a very thin silk shirt that would reveal as much as it covered.

"How would you like these, Boy?" I said, holding them up and wiggling my eyebrows suggestively.

"Only if you want me to look like a whore," he snapped.

I laughed, and bought them anyway. He wore them home and we never made it to the bedroom. I took him on the living room floor, leather pants wrapped around his ankles. Shame about the shirt.

A slave. I owned a slave. And a pleasure slave at that. I'd never really thought about it before. Well, I'd thought about fucking one, sometimes even two, but never really thought about what it would be like to actually own one.

They don't come with a manual either, that's the problem. I was just allowed to walk out of the auction house with the kid in tow. No one knew who I was or where I lived. There was no law to say I couldn't beat him or starve him or even torture him to death if I wanted to. Not that I would, but I could have, you know?

And what was I going to do with a bed slave? They're rich folk's toys; expensive, frivolous, and only good for one thing, apparently.

Not so with this kid. He was quite a treasure really. He was quiet and neat, looked after all my physical needs, and even if he did have a few strange notions, like the dancing and the not liking meat very much, they didn't really get in the way of my enjoyment of him.

It was weird, though, I'd been alone for years, and not exactly lonely. Now I had some nearly grown young man rattling round the place, taking up space and just being there all the time, day and night. Suddenly he was looking after everything for me, and I was totally responsible for his well being. I could never forget he was there, and sometimes his constant presence grated on my nerves. But there was no-where else for him to go.

Still, rich man's toy or not, he had to make himself useful. I'm not rolling in it myself. I had to get back to work, and I had to make sure there was a place for Boy at my side. I wanted him to be a partner, not a pet.

First thing I did was to make sure he looked the part. Some standard clothes, and there he was, plain leggings, plain shirt and a vest to keep tools in, your typical young spacer. I'd even thought about taking off his long plait, but when I'd come near him with the snips he'd backed away and begged me so prettily that I didn't have the heart to cut it. The picture still wasn't quite right though, and it took me a few moments to realize what it was. There was no blaster strapped to his thigh.

Well, as you know, having your own weapon is vital in my business. Appearances are very important. If people think they can push you around, intimidate you, then they will certainly try. Not to mention the times when you actually have to use the damned things.

I tossed around the idea of giving Boy a weapon. Pretty kid like him would need something to give the flesh fanciers pause, even if they'd have to go through me to get to him. We'd worked out a bit together, and I tried to figure out if he could handle himself or not. The kid was handy enough unarmed, although strangely reluctant to attack unless under threat. He was also sharp and deadly with a knife, and by about the third time a sparring bout ended with the blunted tip of the practice blade pressed to my ribs and a strangely feral grin lighting his face, I'd made a strong mental note to watch him more carefully in the kitchen.

I thought about it, sure, but I just knew that I wouldn't feel comfortable with him standing anywhere near me holding a blaster. Not yet anyway. Even worse, on a number of worlds there's rules about slaves carrying arms, and the penalties can be summary execution. Even if I gave him a fake weapon just to look the part, there's them that would shoot first and ask questions later.

Still, it was a bit of a relief to be headed back into space. The holiday on Verduine had been nice, but I was itchy for the hum of the engines beneath my feet and the chill of recycled air. Even Boy seemed moderately cheerful, saying it was about time we went on a mission. He gave me a quick cheeky smile as we shouldered our trav-bags and stepped onto the ramp, him just one step behind me and to the left. I was content. It was just like old times.

First real job we did was a there-and-back to Krispituar Moon. I chose that one as it sounded somehow better than the other one to Kessel. Boy agreed, saying he'd never heard of Kessel, but he had a 'bad feeling' about it. Just as well really, as old Moreney took the job instead and ended up cooling his heels in a Corellian prison for nearly two standard.

It took us a double handful of shifts to get there. It's odd but the bunk that had seemed so big and empty after... well, during the previous few years, suddenly seemed tiny when it came to sharing it with all those legs and arms. When it was time for sleep-shift, I got Boy to give me a quickie and then made him sleep in another bunk. I thought he'd appreciate it too, except he woke up mid-shift in the grip of some dream.

"Master!" he was calling. "I'm lost, please don't leave me, Master!"

I dropped to the side of his bunk, and shook him by the shoulder. He blinked like a night bird, still half asleep.

"So lost..."

"S'OK, kid," I said. "I'm here."

He nodded, and touched my hand like he was grateful. Then he sighed, turned his face back to the wall and went to sleep again.

Krispituar Moon is a hole of a place, just one huge mine orbiting a gas giant. No wonder they go through so many stim sticks there, its so bloody boring. I took the opportunity to teach Boy all about the old girl's systems and operations. I even let him fly, a swooping, gliding joy-ride through the outer reaches of Krispit. Boy was a fair pilot too, once he stopped trying to remember and just let it all come back to him. He really seemed to enjoy it, and I liked seeing the spark in his eyes as he skimmed the giant planet's outer edges before heading back past the Moon, round the primary and out to where we could make the jump.

I still had to programme the co-ords for the jump. Didn't want him fucking up with that, nosirree. When we got up to speed I nodded to him, and he reached over to hit the switch. The hyperdrive kicked in with a noisy whine and in the blink of an eye the starscape was replaced with the white streaks of hyperspace. Oh, he was grinning like crazy, a huge happy satisfied beam that seemed to light up the dim cockpit.

I couldn't resist him. I grabbed him and kissed him. Of course he had to stop smiling then, which was a shame, but I had plans for that mouth. I sat back in the pilots seat and freed my erection. I didn't have to say anything. Boy slid to his knees, all trace of that delicious smile wiped away by a frown of concentration. He looked almost grim as he leant forward and enveloped me in warm sucking heat. I had to bite back another surge of irritation. Couldn't he at least act a little more enthusiastic? He bobbed up and down on my cock like he was a mechanical. No appreciation of my many fine qualities, no sounds of pleasure, nothing.

I wanted to make the kid beg for it. I stood, dragging him up with me, and started pulling at his clothes. He reached down to pull off his boots but I growled, "Leave them...." Well, he did have to take them off, but they were soon back on his feet, and there he was, all pale flesh and clean muscular limbs, dressed in nothing but boots and a sultry little scowl.

He was getting lighter, I thought, as I lifted him onto the control panel. I pushed him backwards, parting his legs as he lay on the console. It was a beautiful sight, the strong leather boots and the sharp lines of the panel contrasting with the vulnerability of his position. His naked body seemed suddenly fragile against the steel and plas of the ship. So soft, so easily damaged.

I stood between his spread legs and ran my fingers up and down, stirring the soft hairs there and watching him wriggle. He looked at back me, eyes huge in his pale face, chest rising and falling in sharp little breaths and his booted feet swinging gently off the floor. I knew every inch of the control panel he was lying on, each button to press, every switch to flick, each spot that needed a gentle hand and every lump that needed a hard thump from time to time, and I swore I was going to learn every inch of the body lying there until I could coax the same responsiveness from his flesh as I could from the metal. There could only ever be one captain of a ship, and there could only be one Master.

I hooked my arms under his calves and pushed his legs up until he was waving those sexy leather boots in the air. He was totally at my mercy now, off balance, legs lifted and spread and his fingers scrabbling on the console to find some purchase. When I kissed his calf, he jerked like I'd taken a bite out of him. I licked up his inner thigh, breathing in the slight dampness and the taste of his sweat. When my nose nudged his balls he whimpered and tried to flinch away but my arms trapped him.

Finally, I leant forward and tasted him. He was warm and sweet and still soft as I'd forgotten the spice. I licked and lapped and then I took his entire cock in my mouth and began to suckle.

"Please..." he moaned. "Please, Master, you don't have to do this. Just do what you want to me, you don't have to make me..."

"Shut up!" I said, only, seeing as I had a mouthful of slowly hardening cock, it came out more like "Shmmph uph"

"Please..." he was whimpering. "Please don't."

"But I want to," I growled, pulling up briefly. "And its what I want that's important." He shut up.

I pushed his legs up further, impossibly far, until he was almost bent double in front of me. His sac in its nest of red curls and the darker skin below it was totally exposed to my gaze. And to my tongue. I dove in, nuzzling in between his cheeks, licking hard, trying to get in between.

"Open up," I said softly, breath ghosting over the crispy hairs of his balls. "Go on, hold yourself open for me."

He grabbed his own thighs and pulled and I lowered my face down to taste him, to smell him, to envelop myself in his heat and his flesh. I licked, and I sucked a little, and swirled my tongue around, pressing against his entrance and trying to find a part of him that didn't taste faintly of soap. I probed inside and found my tongue captured by that ring of muscle, pulsing faintly against me with each of his rasping breaths. I moaned and then, struck by his shuddering response, hummed some more, feeling it vibrate through his body.

A finger inside him, searching for that spot and he was arching up off the console with a gasp. By the time I added another finger, his legs were twitching seemingly uncontrollably with each thrust, boots banging jerkily on my shoulders or against the control panel.

"Please..." he whispered again, but this time I don't think he was asking me to stop.

I spat on my hand and added a third finger, feeling him slide slightly up the panel with each thrust. It would have had to have been a bit uncomfortable, but at least it wasn't me on bottom. No, I was definitely on top. My own cock felt raw, swollen, rock hard at the delicious sounds he was making and the absolute control I had over him. The power was running through my veins like a drug. I could do anything, anything....

I added the fourth finger and pushed in, just the tip. He gave a long shuddering moan that sounded like pain. I stopped. I was thinking... I was... well, you know what I was thinking.

"More?" I asked him, curious to see how he would take it.

He shook his head emphatically. "No. Please, no more."

He was right. I didn't have the right lube, and he was really far too fresh. I wasn't even up to the knuckles and he was stretched about as far as he could go. Still, I wasn't going to be complaining about him being too tight.

"You want something else, don't you?" I crowed. "You want me inside you, don't you Boy? Say it... Go on, beg me for it."

"Please, Master..."

"Please... what?"

"Please, I'd rather have your cock inside me, Master."

OK, so he wasn't exactly begging for it, but at least I got him to ask. It was a victory of sorts, and I was quite happy to take it. And him.

I stood and spat in my hand to slick myself up and then pushed his knees right up onto his chest. What a picture he made, pale skin against the metal, the long slow streaks of the stars above and behind him, and the darkened flesh at his groin, framed by the captured boots. I wanted to watch his face as I worked my way inside of him, but he tilted his head right back until all I could see was the long column of his neck, and the dimple in his chin, lit by the flashing stars and blinking navlights.

I kissed his neck, all the bits of him I could reach as we moved together, my hand on his cock, pushing him higher. I was flying, I was piloting him home. I was the captain of that ship and I was the Master, and then I was spilling myself inside him even as I felt the warm gush of his orgasm over my hand.

When I'd caught my breath, and my brain had finally spiralled back from wherever it had disappeared to I asked him, "So, Boy... did you see stars then?"

There was a silence, and the hum of the hyperdrive sounded loud over the blood still pounding in my ears. He still wasn't looking at me. I thought he wasn't going to reply but then he sighed, a little sadly perhaps. "Yes, Master," he said softly, "I saw stars."

OK, so he annoyed me sometimes. See, he was never openly defiant, although he did tend to go his own way a lot of the time. There was nothing I could really put my finger on its just that... well, I knew that even if he belonged to me, I never really owned him. And the worst thing was... deep down, I think he knew it too. He was always polite, reserved, but he never let me touch the passion that I knew was lurking inside him, never opened up about how he was feeling.

Another thing that kicked my craw... I was his owner, and yet he constantly acted like he was better than me. I get that enough from the creeps I'm forced to deal with, I didn't need it from my frigging bed slave. He pushed and pushed at the boundaries of my tolerance. Well, finally he pushed too hard.

It was when I walked into his room once day. I just stuck my head in, actually. The little closet space wasn't really big enough for two people. There was a furtive scrabbling and he turned round to me, face expressionless.

"What was that, Boy?" I asked him, shouldering my way in.

"Nothing, master," he said, lying casually through his pretty teeth. "I was straightening my bedding."

I stooped and pulled apart his less than carefully made pallet and, without any great surprise, discovered his stash. There was a spare pair of pants, some tools, an old ID card of Jameel's, some loose change, a sharp little kitchen knife and about half a dozen nutri-bars. He'd been hiding them, waiting for his chance.

I was fucking livid. I'd been bloody good to him and the ungrateful little brat was planning on shooting through. Leaving me. I was so angry I could barely see straight.

"What's this?" I said, grabbing one of the foodsticks. "Not getting enough to eat? Come with me."

I grabbed him by the hair and hauled his ass out of there so fast his feet never touched the ground. He was trying to crawl on his knees as I dragged him over the floor, trying to stand, trying to grab at my arm for support. I flung him into the kitchen wall where he lay, sprawled and gasping. Then I grabbed the box of food bars and emptied them over him as he flinched away.

"You want more food?" I was yelling at him. "You want more? Go on! Take more! Take them all!"

I flung some fruit at him. He had his arms up to protect himself and he caught it without even looking at it. I threw more, really in a snit now.

"Go on! And lets see if you can eat it in all in five hours! Where the hell did you think you were going to go in that time? Five fucking hours... that's all you get, Boy! And then its Boom! Goodnight forever!"

"Its not five hours!" the kid yelled, scrambling to his feet. "You changed it. I've been watching you and you only put the code in once or twice a day now!"

"So fucking what, you stupid brat!" I was even angrier now that I knew he'd discovered my little deception, and I grabbed him by the throat and started shaking. "How far can you go? I'll tell you. Five standard miles before the rangefinder goes off! So you tell me, where the hell did you think you were going to go?"

"One mile, five miles! I don't care!" he cried. "Its five hours and five miles of freedom!"

"You can't go!" I screamed. "You can't go because you'll die! You can't die on me!"

I whacked him a good one, knocking him over. His arms had come up, but his training overcame his instincts and he dropped his hands at the last minute, allowing me to connect more solidly than I'd intended. It didn't make me feel any better, knowing that he could have blocked the blow. Balla knows, I wanted a fight.

"I'll sell you first! I'll sell you to the dirtiest nastiest brothel on Blevvins or Lakchat and see if I fucking care!"

His cheek was already darkening, and he just lay there looking dazed, wiping blood away from his lip with the back of a hand. I grabbed an ankle and pulled him into the bedroom. He protested, and tried to scramble away, but I grabbed his hair again and threw him on the bed. I was the master, and I was going to have to prove it, once again.

"Please, Master, I apologize for my behaviour!" he said, quite clearly.

"Very prettily said," I snarled. "But I don't believe you meant it." I wasn't in the mood to back down. His hands were up, protecting his head. I hit at him and he blocked and blocked, but I forced him further and further back and soon I was kneeling astride him. I caught his hands and pinned one of them under a knee, the other gripped tightly in my own hand.

"Time for naughty boys to be taught a lesson, I think." I must have looked like an evil bastard then because he tried to struggle even more. My weight on his belly meant he couldn't move very far.

I used my free hand to strip his shirt from him, and tie first one wrist and then the other to the bed head. He was bucking underneath me now, begging me, to please stop master, he was very sorry master and it wouldn't happen again, master.

"Please... you have my word as a..." he choked.

"As a what? As a stupid arrogant little fuck?" I kneed him hard to stop him from squirming as I tightened the shirt around his wrists.

"As... a whatever I am!" he cried. "Please!"

"Whatever you were is of no concern to me, asshole, and what you are is an uppity sex slave who needs some sense fucked into his stupid little head!"

I yanked off his pants and flipped him over. He cried out as his wrists took the strain and then kicked as I tried to grab a flailing ankle. It was glorious. I was so angry at him, I was relishing the fight he was giving me and yes, yes, yes, it was turning me on. He wanted it rough. Or even if he didn't want, that was how he was going to get it. But not just yet.

It wasn't long before I had one of his ankles tied to the bed too. I strolled around the bed, slowly undoing my belt. His head swivelled, trying to follow my actions.

He tried again. "Please master, please don't sell me. Please don't send me away."

So that was what he was bothered about, eh? Not a chance of me selling him, but there was no point in letting him know that. I let the end of the belt trail up his naked buttocks.

"We'll see about that," I said cruelly, "but first I want to see something else. I want to see your virginal skin wearing my marks. I want to see you screaming, and writhing as I kiss you with leather."

If he hadn't understood what I meant he soon figured it out. I raised the strap and brought it down hard on the backs of his thighs. He jumped. I did it again, a little higher this time, and he gasped and pushed his head into the mattress to stifle his cries. Well fine, if he wanted it that way...

I thought about how Jameel had enjoyed playing games occasionally and how he had all his little 'toys'. Shame, but I'd thrown most of them away. Ah well, I just had to make do with the leather belt. It certainly seemed to be having the right effect, raising long parallel welts across Boy's back and ass as I laid into him..

He was writhing in his bonds as the lash came down. Shame I didn't have a proper whip, as you can get much more control with those. It had been a lot of fun with my old lover. I watched the stripes bloom on Boy's back and the Old Man in my pants got harder and harder.

I thought about how Jameel had begged me for more, for harder and faster, how I'd mastered the art of whipping without leaving a scar and how he'd loved to play all sorts of games. About how Jameel had laughed when I chased him, and when I caught him, and when I dragged him playfully kicking and screaming to my bed and then laughed again as I tied him up. And then something was happening to my eyes, and everything went blurry, and I could see that Boy wasn't squirming seductively in his bonds, offering up his ass to be spanked. Boy wasn't laughing at all and those shoulders were shaking from suppressed sobs. Boy wasn't squealing in mock terror as I threatened him, he was lying there with his eyes distant and filled with pain, just waiting for me to get it over with. He wasn't... awww, fuck... fuck!fuck!fuck!

I dropped that stupid belt like it was a red-hot hyper-wire, feeling like... the biggest fucking jerk, the worst kind of asshole this side of the galaxy. My hands were trembling as I undid the bonds on Boy's wrists and ankles and pulled him into my arms, trying to soothe the hurts.

"I'm sorry," I said, shaking, and trying to smooth his short hair which had gone spiky with sweat. "I'm so sorry. I had no... no right to do that."

"I guess I've learned my lesson, then," he said, and he shivered. I pulled a blanket up around him and he hugged it to him like it was a cloak.

"I'm not going to sell you, OK?"

He nodded, but he wasn't really looking at me. He was staring off at the wall and blinking rapidly. I felt a lump in my throat and turned his head to face me so that I could look at him.

I watched with a sinking feeling in my gut as those grey eyes just filled with water. He raised an hand abruptly to press on his eyelids, refusing to let the tears fall. It was as if he thought he shouldn't cry for having been ripped from his life, then violated in mind and in body. Suddenly, instead of the self possessed young man I had thought I was buying, I found that I had on my hands a frightened and confused kid who was doing a bloody brave job of holding it all together and who had suddenly had enough.

I wanted to hold him. I would have, you know, but I'd been just as much a part of it as that creep Saartor and his ilk. I had no right, you see. No right at all to try and comfort him. And how could I tell him it was going to be all right? Because it bloody wasn't going to be all right. And it never would be again.

I stood abruptly, almost tipping him onto the floor. I couldn't bear it, you see, couldn't face it. Everything was crashing and I had to get away from the wreck of my fantasy as it sat there in the ruin of my bed, holding back tears. I didn't look back as I swung out of the room, leaving him alone.

I fixed myself a stiff drink, and then another. When I finally got a grip on myself, I went back to find that the pillow was dry and the Boy was nowhere to be seen.

Go to part 2