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OK, so I panicked.

The bedroom was empty, and so was the fresher. I yelled. I kicked things. I cursed the little bugger to Coruscant and back. There was no reply. I stood there, baffled. There was no way out of the room except past me, so where the fuck had he gone? Then I noticed the curtains were fluttering and the window leading to the balcony was wide open. Oh shit...

It was a long way down. The kid would be part of the pavement if he'd jumped. My heart was in my mouth as I slowly craned my head over the edge, fully expecting to see a bloody mess down there. Nothing. I nearly went over the railing myself, my knees going weak with relief.

Well, I finally remembered the detonator remote. I'd gone and forgotten all about it in the heat of the moment but now I grabbed for it desperately. The first thing I did was set the distance trigger on maximum. I didn't want to chance him moving out of range and ending up splattered all over the shop.

I had to find him, and soon. Anything could happen out there. See, the kid might be no push-over but he wasn't exactly street-smart. He could be walking into trouble without even realising it. Verduine might be a backwater but there's still people you want to avoid, places you don't want to go, if you know what I mean. Even the local Gendarmes would probably return him to me in a somewhat used condition.

I poked the remote a bit, careful not to set it off. Handy little devices if you can forget for a moment what the damned things are used for. Anyway, it actually had a built in tracker. I'd not really taken much notice of that before, having no use for it. The boy had been constantly underfoot, and if I'd wanted to know where he was, I'd just yelled.

Stupid thing was completely shonky though. I mean, when I finally sussed it out, it showed the kid moving away from me at a speed that was way beyond what was humanly possible. Piece of crap! To think that Boy's life was entrusted to a piece of shoddy workmanship like that just made me shudder. Mine too, as I'd spent a fair amount of my time intimately entwined with the boy and if he'd gone 'Splatt!' I'm sure it could have been rather nasty for me too.

Well, I had to go retrieve the kid before he hit serious trouble. I pulled my old swoop-bike out its dusty storage, kicked it into life and set off, hot on Boy's trail. He'd managed to get quite a way in such a short time, but the tracker showed he'd stopped about four miles away. I followed my electronic guide downhill all the way and wasn't surprised to find he'd ended up on the beach.

I used to come down here a bit myself. That's why I made a backwater world like Verduine my base, in actual fact. After... well, when I was suddenly on my own... I didn't want to be around people much, but space was just too empty. Everywhere I went, every port, every flop house and seedy bar, every inch of the bloody ship just reminded me of the person who should be next to me.

Boy wasn't hard to spot. I could see him in the distance, a grey figure against the darkening sky. I think he saw me too as I caught a glimpse of a pale oval pointed towards me before he turned back towards the ocean.

Stupid kid, I thought, almost annoyed at myself for feeling so relieved. At least he'd remembered to put some clothes on, although he wasn't really dressed for the weather. I wouldn't say it was freezing but the chill wind whipping up the sea spray certainly made it pretty nippy. It was also getting dark.

I didn't want to spook him so I cut the engines and let the bike just coast to a halt before leaving it to rest on its repulsorlifts on the sand. He ignored me. I strolled towards him, very casual, as if I was just getting a bit of fresh air before turning in for the night.

He didn't look much like an expensive pleasure slave, more like a street urchin. He was barefoot, the thin fabric of his shirt and pants soaked through and clinging to his body. The kid looked cold, his spine stiff with tension, and the dark nubby circles of his nipples stood out under the wet cloth. He was far from glamorous but I realised from the tightening of my pants that I still wanted him.

I watched as he picked up a pebble, waited a moment or two and then pitched it into the waves. He was still ignoring me.

So that was how it was going to be. Well, I wasn't to be outdone. I stooped, picked up a handful of pebbles and casually moved closer to him. He glanced at me and then, flicking another stone powerfully, he turned back to the waves. I pitched a small stone in too. He flicked a flat one, making it dance across the surface of a trough for a couple of bounces before it finally disappeared. I chucked another stone, larger this time, and it plopped into the water, any sound it made being drowned out by the hissing of the wave pulling back from the sand.

We traded stones in silence, nothing but the wind and the crashing waves in our ears. As I'd done many times before, I watched the ships from the spaceport tracking across the twilight sky, nav lights blinking, and the blue-white flare of the main engines kicking in, but even their muffled roar was drowned by the sound of the ocean. Finally I turned to the kid and yelled "Got anything to say?"

Boy shook his head and tossed another stone. I found a small flat one and tried to skim it across the surface. The waves were just too rough though. Even so, I'd actually got up to four bounces before he spoke again.

"I'm a coward," he yelled above the waves. "I was going to jump in and just swim away." He flung another stone away from him, like it was something he hated, and glared at me.

My eyes locked with his and I stepped closer, salt water swirling around my boots. For a moment the wind dropped and I could hear the bitterness in his tone.

"I was just going to swim for the horizon. I imagined it would be a race between drowning and exploding. Either way," he said, turning back to the ocean and tossing another pebble in, "it would all be over." This last was yelled over the next encroaching wave. Boy waited for it to recede before continuing.

"But I couldn't do it." Another stone hit the water. "I'm a fucking coward!" Plop. "I realised, so help me," plop, "that I want to live!"

He swung around towards me, the wind whipping his plait across his face like a snake, and such fury on his face. "So you got me, alright?"

He hurled the entire handful of stones into the hissing water and wiped his palms on his leggings. And then he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. I don't think he was crying, it was just the salt spray, but the gesture made me swallow all the angry words I'd wanted to fling at him. Like, how dare he even think of throwing away all that money I'd spent on him, what the fuck was he thinking of, scaring me like that and why oh why was he being such a pain in the ass?

I waited for a moment, while the receding water pulled sand from under my boots and then asked him carefully, "So, you're not going to run again?"

He shook his head and his face twisted up into a look of total defeat. "It's just so wrong! I can just sense the wrongness of it all. I'm not meant to be here, I know it...."

"Boy," I growled. "You sound like a whining brat, stomping your little foot and complaining that life ain't fair. Well, this may be news to you, kid, but life ain't fair. No one's going to come along to make it all better."

I waved my hand vaguely at the heavens, trying to indicate... fate, or destiny or something. "Sometimes bad things just happen and there ain't a damn thing you can do about it. You just got to take the cards life dealt you and play your hand," I said. "It's up to you to make the best of the bargain."

He just stood there looking at me, misery written all over his face. I sighed. "At least you're still in the game, you know? Dead ain't good for nothing...."

Boy nodded dully. "Yes, Master." And then his expression twisted, and he covered his face with his hands.

I didn't know what to do, didn't really know what to say. I reached out for him and grabbed his arm, feeling the tiny tremors in his body beneath the thin fabric.

"C'mon, kid." I said. "Let's just get back. I'm cold, I'm fed up and we've got another job in the morning."

The kid didn't move for a second or two, and then the stiff fingers slowly dropped and he nodded. He trailed me back to where I'd left the bike. Wrapping his sodden arms round me he sat behind me in silence all the way home.

Boy was very quiet for the rest of the evening. He cleaned up quickly and efficiently, stripping and remaking the bed, clearing away all evidence of our earlier... disagreement with a minimum of fuss. After serving the evening meal, he came to me and bowed.

"Have you any further need of me tonight, Master?" he asked me, standing there eyes downcast and all submissive.

I thought about it. I still felt a bit chilled from being down by the water and I thought we could cuddle up together to get warm again, share body heat, that sort of thing. Then I thought of his stiff back turned towards me and his sharp elbows and the way he wormed himself away from me in his sleep every night. I sighed.

"No, lad. We have an early start tomorrow. You go and get some rest," I said, reluctantly.

He nodded and bowed again, which I thought a little formal, and then slinked off to his tiny closet room. I waited until the door closed behind him before locking up for the night and taking myself off to bed. Alone.

I woke to bliss. I was warm and relaxed and hard as a rock, my morning glory buried in some moist heat that moved and sucked and squeezed around me. For a second or two I wasn't sure if it was one of those really vivid dreams you have in the moments just before waking, and I thought the wonderful sensation would disappear as soon as I opened my eyes. My hips were pumping from the bed almost of their own accord and I just felt like I was going to explode any second. I reached down, surprised and yet unsurprised to find my fingers entangling themselves in Boy's hair, not holding him down but gently urging him on until I was buried to the root in his busy little mouth. It didn't take much after that, and I couldn't hold back my shuddering groan as I emptied myself down his throat.

When I finally opened my eyes he was kneeling on my bed, naked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Good morning, Master," he said quietly. "I have taken the liberty of preparing your breakfast."

And he had. There it was next to the bed on a tray, neatly presented with a napkin and all. I have no idea where he found the napkin. He passed it over to me as I sat up, and then padded softly out of the room. The next time I saw him he was standing by the entrance door, fully dressed, with our packed trav-bags at his feet. He stood there demurely, his head lowered.

And so began a very weird few weeks. I mean, if he'd been like this from the beginning I would have thought him to be just a well-trained and obedient slave, but this... this flesh-droid that suddenly took the place of my Boy was just... it wasn't him.

Suddenly there was no defiance in him, no pride, no spirit, no spark. The dancing stopped, the sitting down thinking thing stopped, the scowls, the glares, the the occasional flashes of humour he'd shown at unexpected times, all gone.

He seemed smaller somehow. While a teenager rattling around the place had been mildly irritating, this silent ghost who haunted the ship was even more unnerving. He came and went on silent feet, always ready where he was needed, as efficient as a droid when it came to loading and unloading, and never doing any more or less that what was expected of him. It was as if he had taken his presence, which had once filled every room he was in, and wrapped it closely around himself like a cloak until he and it occupied no more space than the shape of his body. The somewhat comforting clatter of having another person sharing my life and my space was gone. In its place was an obedient little shadow that did and said nothing out of turn.

Oh he was still responsive in bed, don't get me wrong. The kid did everything I asked, and even his earlier reluctance seemed buried under a quiet determination to please me, to be the perfect little fuck. He worked hard at getting me off, waking me at the beginning of each up-shift with a blow-job, or if I was awake enough, with a hard and energetic fuck. He was always clean, always oiled and ready for me to enter him. In some ways, I kinda missed the intimacy of preparing him myself, but my objections always melted away by the time I was thrusting into his body. But even in this he'd become a shadow of his former self. Oh, he got hard alright, and climaxed on cue, usually just moments after me, but the passion had gone. He no longer called out to his Master as he came.

One time, we got back to Verduine during a fairly spectacular sunset and I remarked on it. Boy didn't even look up and when I asked him why he said, "It's just the sun going down, Master."

And then there was the time when we were making a delivery to the Sin Centre on Krik-Tik-Mar, and just as we were leaving Boy spotted some clothes he wanted. Of course, he didn't come out and say, "I want that." No, he just stood in front of the stall until I came over to have a look, and then he just reached over and delicately touched the hem of the thing.

I looked at it. It was a very short black synthileather top, short sleeved and high collared but cropped at just below nipple height. It would look really good on him, displaying his neat musculature to its best advantage, but I was a little surprised. He'd never shown much interest in what I was dressing him in before. At the time I had no idea why he wanted it and so I asked him, "I thought you didn't like to wear this kind of whore stuff?"

Boy blushed and looked down. "I just want to please my master, Sir," he said, and then he looked up and his eyes met mine with such a look of sincerity that I ignored my suspicions and bought the damned thing.

See, I couldn't tell if he was faking it or if he'd really just decided that the best thing for him would be to accept his situation and act accordingly. It's funny, that's what I told him to do in the first place but now that he seemed to be taking my advice, I found that I didn't much like it at all.

I missed Boy. I missed the kid who snapped at me, who argued back, who let me know how he felt. I missed the wry sense of humour that attempted to make the best of the situation and, to be honest, I missed the virginal reluctance towards our coupling. It had made me work so much harder and given me such a sense of satisfaction when I finally bent him to my will.

Perhaps this feeling of something missing wouldn't have been so bad but for the fact that every so often I got a glimpse of the man behind the Pleasure Slave, an indication that underneath all the humility and submission there was still a real person there. Somewhere.

Like the time I sent him to deal with the Customs officials at Doraane Spacegate.... He'd seen me do it enough, he knew what to say to avoid undue attention. Not that I was too worried about a search, you know. I, ah, have my methods. All the same, I'd rather not have to put up with the hassle if I can help it. Boy, with his upper-level accent, and his ladies tea party manners would probably charm the pants off these slack jawed provincials, and we'd be unloaded at lightspeed.

Well the Officers were certainly charmed by him. In fact they were downright chatty. I could see him standing in amongst a group of them, talking. Boy was smiling and looking them in the eyes and he seemed so relaxed and confident I had to look twice to make sure it was him.

I suddenly found myself sweating. He hadn't gone and told them about the extra cargo, had he? Who's to say what he could get out of it? Maybe he could cut some kind of deal, get rid of me...

Casual as anything, I sauntered down the gangplank. It soon became obvious that my worries were just my own stupid imagination. There was nothing furtive going on, they were all smiles and head nodding.

"I'm sure that will be acceptable, but I'll have to check with my Master," Boy was saying in that rich kid's voice. At that they all turned to me and one of them bowed really low before another one of his mates nudged him.

"We thought you might want to use the Reddy-Haulit, Master... err, sir." One of them said. Another nodded. "Get you unloaded in half the time." He was nodding and bobbing his head, rubbing his hands together. Honestly, they were looking at me with this kind of awe on their faces. I don't know what Boy had said to them, but they were downright grovelling.

Well, I don't often get an offer to use the best and most modern equipment on Doraane, and I wasn't about to turn it down. I nodded my agreement and then turned back to the ship.

"Come, Boy,"

"Yes, Master," he said and followed me up the gangplank to start the unloading.

"So what was all that about?" I asked him.

"I'm sure I don't know, Master," he said, irritatingly toneless. "I'm just an ignorant slave."

And that was that. Frustrated, I let the matter drop. He was back in slave mode and we had goods to unload.

I tried to woo the brat, to drag him out of this weird attitude. I wanted to make him relax, make him smile, even if it was just once. During a stopover on Gor Handek, the so-called 'Haven of Hedonism' or, as I prefer to call it, 'Pimp's Paradise', I took him out to a fancy eatery, one with real Human waiters instead of droid servers, like it was a date or something. It was a disaster. He wore the leather whore clothes and spent the whole time either trying to serve me or playing with his food. He might as well have been wearing a glowlite sign saying "Fucktoy".

By the end of the evening I'd had three offers to rent him for the night and one very generous offer to buy him. I figured the guy was drunk and talking out of his arse so I turned him down.

There was one slimebag in particular who got right up my nose. He sat... and I mean sat on the edge of our table, and started pawing the kid. Boy ignored the wandering hands, his face totally blank, like he thought it was nothing to be treated like meat. I was less tolerant. I told the scum to get his hands off the boy and take himself elsewhere. Honestly, my teeth hurt from the effort of not rearranging the creep's features.

"My friend," mister sleazy said, still fingering Boy's plait, "I don't think you know the true value of your merchandise here."

Boy suddenly stood, grabbed the man's wrist and in a flurry of movement so swift my eyes couldn't follow it, the creep's nose was squished into the table top and his arms locked up between his shoulder blades.

"My master asked you to remove your paws from his property," Boy said, calm as anything. He hadn't even broken a sweat. "And I didn't hear him say you could call him 'friend'."

There was an awful tense silence as I contemplated what the penalty might be for a slave assaulting a free man, or even worse, for me allowing my slave to do it. The whole room had stopped, forks halfway to their gawping mouths, and the waiter was hurrying towards us flapping his hands.

There was a low chuckle from the table in front of me. "You can let me up, young man," the squished scumbag said. "You appear to be the genuine article. How amusing."

Boy looked to me, and when I nodded, hauled the man back up to his feet. I was relieved. The pusball brushed down his crumpled clothing and took himself off, still laughing.

Well, I didn't want to hang around. I thrust some credits at the hovering waiter and we left, boy trailing demurely after me... as if every eye in the fucking place wasn't following our each and every step to the door.

"What did you think you were doing?" I demanded, once we were safe outside. Forget the fact I'd wanted to hit the guy myself or that I'd wanted to see some spark of life in the kid, it was just too dangerous for a slave to act like that.

"He touched me without your permission, Master," Boy said, suddenly seeming very interested in the pavement. "I'm sorry, Master. I could feel your anger. Did I do wrong?"

"Yes, you did do fucking wrong! Where do I start?" I was annoyed, and part of it was because he was acting like a slave again. "I want to know what the fuck was going through your seemingly empty little head. First you act like a little slut so that pondscum wants to come and cop a feel and then without any warning, you suddenly decide to start throwing people over tables."

"How dare you make a scene like that! You ruined my dinner, ruined our evening off, and you're not in the slightest bit sorry for it!"

He dropped to his knees and bowed his head. "Master, I await your correction," he said humbly.

I lost it. Totally. I hauled him up and yelled into his face. "What the fuck do you think you're playing at? Auditioning for Puppet of the Week? Is that what you want? Me to stick my hand up your ass and speak for you?"

I gave him a good shake. "I've seen more life in a three day corpse than in you lately!"

"Master," he said calmly, doing nothing to dislodge my grip, "I am only trying to please you, to be what you wanted, what you paid for, just a pleasure slave."

"I didn't want just a pleasure slave!" I yelled. "I wanted..."

It was no good. I was too angry to think straight. I dragged him by the shirt collar -- and when he stumbled, by the hair -- all the way back to the room we were staying in. Boy didn't protest, although he looked a bit uncomfortable at times. The adrenaline was surging now, demanding action, fight or fuck. I shoved him into the room and kicked the door shut behind us.

"Strip! Now!" I barked. "Then get on the bed, face down and ass up."

Boy looked at me then, and his eyes flashed dark with -- anger. Yes! I thought, he's going to put up a fight, he's going to respond. A shiver that was a little like fear, a little like hunger went through me. His hands came up, hesitated, and then started pulling efficiently at his clothes until he stood in a tumble of leather and silk. I growled in frustration. I wanted some reaction from him, something, anything -- and so I backhanded him across the face, knocking him towards the bed.

"Move, you slug!" I followed him, pushing him, prodding him. He grimaced and clenched his fists but he obeyed me, flinging himself face down on the bad. He quickly grabbed a pillow and shoved it under his hips and then he just lay there stiffly, ass raised and legs spread. Ready and waiting for me.

I freed my cock, stroked myself to hardness, and just took him. Kneed his legs further apart, used my thumbs to spread his cheeks and shoved straight in, no lube, nothing. Boy hissed in pain, and gasped again when I grabbed his hips and pulled him further back onto me.

I didn't touch his cock. I wouldn't let him come. My heart was hammering and I was so hyped I knew I wasn't going to last long. I just pounded away, faster and faster, and quickly reached an unsatisfying climax. I used him, and when I'd spilled myself inside him, I pushed him aside like a dirty grease-rag.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Boy lay there unmoving for long moments while I slowly undressed. The anger had cooled, and once again I was feeling like a shit-head. I didn't like that feeling, not at all. It was all Boy's fault. He'd made me....

Slowly, Boy stood and made his way awkwardly to the fresher. Without bacta he'd be sore for a few days, and I wondered if I'd done any real damage. I could hear him through the closed door, puking his guts into the head. So much for dinner.

I waited till I heard the sonics starting up and then lay back in the bed. Things couldn't go on like this. I didn't like the way he was acting. I didn't like the way he made me act. I made up my mind. I was going to have to sell him.

I must have dozed. Anyway, next thing I knew I was blinking my eyes at the ceiling, wondering why I felt like I'd gone three rounds with a cargo hauler. And yeah, I do know how that feels.

It was still dark. My head was throbbing and my mouth tasted like I'd been cleaning out the sanit compactor with my tongue. Still, I didn't think I'd drunk that much the night before; no more than usual, anyway. Oh shit! It was starting to come back to me. The night before...

What the fuck had happened? And where was the kid anyway?

My stomach heaved and the bathroom suddenly seemed like a very good place to be. I lurched out of bed and sort of fell against the bathroom door, only to have it hit something and bounce right back at me. Just what you don't need when Huttese belly dancers are doing the changa changa behind your eyeballs.

I squeezed in to see what was stopping the door and found Boy laying curled up on the bathroom floor, just beginning to stir himself. He was wrapped only in a towel, and had obviously been napping from the slow blink of his eyes. His cheek was darkening where I'd hit him and his plait was undone, the strands of hair making crazy patterns on his skin where he'd lain on it. He looked like a sleepy child.

I stood there looking down at him, trying to push down the uncomfortable guilty feeling. I mean, I was telling myself I'd really done nothing wrong. I owned him. He was just property, a thing to be used and that's what I'd done. OK, I'd hit the kid, held him down and then I'd... I suppose I'd been a bit rough.

I stuck out my hand to help Boy up but he pulled back like a cornered womprat. He moved stiffly, but he stood without my help and faced me, eyes downcast. I let my hand drop, feeling uncomfortable. I wasn't quite sure what to say to him yet.

"Master?" he said, croakily. I wondered if he'd been crying, although there was no sign of any tears.

"Let's get out of this dump," I said, suddenly feeling very tired. Funny, I hadn't realised how much I wanted to get back into space until I said it.

I love the energy of a spaceport. Even though it was the wee small hours there was still plenty happening down at the dock. Spaceports never sleep. Well, they can be a bit quieter during local night-time, but there's always plenty of transports coming in from offworld that simply don't run on the same clock. Even if there's no craft leaving or arriving, there's cargo to load and unload, passengers coming and going, mechanics and droids working on engines and repairs. There's a real buzz in the atmosphere, and by the time I get past the entrance gates I already feel as if my journey's begun. Leaving my worries and the rest of that shit behind me on planet.

Boy and I walked past the massive passenger liners taking on provisions for the next haul out, past the big transport fleet barges taking on crew, and the busy little repair droids buzzing and scuttling around one battered old crate, overhauling its systems. I felt a bit better with each step. A little closer to home.

It seemed to take hardly any time to get the old bucket of bolts prepped for take-off. I was already on autopilot, going through the familiar motions without much thought. Boy seemed as keen as me to get off planet, but he kept just about as far away from me as he could.

We finally strapped down for takeoff just around local dawn and waited for clearance. Boy settled himself down in the co-pilot's seat, a little gingerly I noted, and fairly soon his head was nodding. I guess he hadn't really slept much. Finally, with a lurch and a roar, we were outbound, watching the glowing dawn sky turn black with stars. Free of that stinking planet, and I could finally relax... well, almost.

I turned to my co-pilot. He stared back at me, not saying a word.

"Boy, you're no use to me if you're going to fall asleep at the helm," I said, reasonably. It was as good an opening as I could think of. "Go lie down. I'll wake you at mid-shift and you can spell me, OK?"

He nodded tiredly and, leaning heavily on the arms of the seat, hauled himself up. He'd just about reached the cockpit door when I stopped him. "Boy?"

He turned, wary.

"Yes, Master..." he said. I was beginning to hate those two words; the way he said it now, the misery and resignation in his tone.

"About last night..." It was so hard to even mention it. "It's not going to happen again."

I didn't want to look up, but I had to see if it registered with him. I couldn't tell what he was thinking, not from that stony expression, and I guess there wasn't really a lot for him to say. He nodded and then left the cockpit. I was left alone with just the stars and my thoughts for company.

I used the time to get in touch with Saartors via the holo-net. I wanted to get the whole thing in motion before I changed my mind, before I had second thoughts. I mean, I didn't really know how to go about selling a slave. It's not like I ever made a habit of it. I didn't much like it, but that scumbag Saartor was the only contact I had in that whole dirty business.

The assholes I spoke to tried to brush me off -- didn't wanna know about my problem, y'know? -- saying all sales were final and that if I had any complaints, well... tough. I tried to explain about the boy and suddenly I'm talking to Saartor himself. He smiled his slimy smile and rubbed his oily hands and said that, yes, he remembered the young man quite well indeed, and he hoped he hadn't given me any trouble.

Anyway, I told him that it wasn't working out and that I wanted to re-sell the boy. The slime-bag was ever-so helpful, especially when he realised I didn't want my money back, and said that he might be able to find me a buyer or two... for a small consideration, of course. We dickered back and forth over the terms, seeing as I had a few stipulations, but we finally agreed and Saartor, for some strange reason, seemed pretty relieved.

Up-shift was nearly over by the time we'd finished and so I made some caff in the galley and warmed up some pastries that I'd pocketed back on Gor Handek. Boy was dead to the galaxy, the bruise on his cheek gone blue and there were dark circles showing under his eyes. Part of me was saying that he wouldn't fetch much of a price like that, and another part of me just felt like a heel. Still, he'd always shown an uncanny ability to heal quickly. As long as he didn't earn any more, those bruises would soon be gone. I shook his shoulder to wake him, and he blinked sleepily.

"Here, Boy," I said, feeling awkward as I thrust the tray of food at him. "Eat this, get properly dressed and then come get me." I left him behind me, blinking in surprise and went back to check the auto-pilot.

It didn't seem long before he was back in the cockpit wearing clean clothes, his hair nicely braided once more. I vacated my seat and motioned him to sit down. He'd proven himself to be a fair pilot and I just had to trust him.

"Ok, Boy. She's yours. Auto-pilot's locked in, just keep the engines and the thrusters properly trimmed. Come get me at the end of mid-shift. And Boy..." I was squirming a bit, saying it, "when you wake me, you don't have to... do anything. Just stick your head through the door and make sure I'm up. Got that?"

Boy nodded, eyes wide with puzzlement, and I could feel him watching me all the way to the door.

Any spacer is used to broken sleep, you know, because even though your body might be telling you it's night-time, it might be broad daylight wherever you land next. Like I said, you get used to it, and you take whatever chances you get to rest. Not this time. For whatever reason, I lay tossing and turning for ages before finally drifting off into an uncomfortable sleep.

Softie that I am, I didn't touch him for a few days; didn't want to push it. It wasn't as if I really had the time, either. We had work to do and we were pretty much taking turns at the helm during the flights, and both of us were on deck when we got into port. Boy talked to the various officials when they needed to be charmed, and I dealt with the customers, and anyone who needed to be... persuaded more forcefully, shall we say. I even showed the lad a bit about hyperdrive maintenance. At least he knew one end of a spanner from the other.

See, that was one of the irritating things. I'd just about taught Boy all the ropes, got him almost to the point where he was a useful partner. I didn't trust him, nosirree, not as far as I could throw him, but as far as the day to day business stuff was concerned, the kid was coming along nicely. Now all that training was going to go to waste. Ah well, that's the way life is sometimes.

Eventually Boy and I ended up back on Verduine. With good reason. Saartor had been in touch and his customer was going to be arriving the next morning to inspect the merchandise. I'd told the slave trader that I wanted to find a nice rich businessman who'd treat the kid right, and smug old Saartor seemed confident that the deal would be sweet. I knew this could well be my last night with the kid, although he didn't know it yet and well, I guess I just wanted to make sure I enjoyed it.

Come-to-bed time, and Boy was looking a little nervous. I guess he'd noticed I was watching him. He would have slinked off to his little closet, but I shook my head, ushering him into my bedroom. He was fairly resigned to it, his hand automatically coming up to undo the buttons on his shirt.

I stopped him. "No, no, not so fast kid." He froze in place, waiting for my instruction.

I kicked off my shoes and settled down on my bed. Yeah, that was me. A man of leisure, an Oiliphant in my boudoir with my harem entertaining me. I motioned for Boy to continue. "Go on, lad," I said, "but slowly. Make a show of it. I want the works tonight."

He started gamely enough, even though he was as stiff as a droid. He did a half-hearted sort of bump and grind and began to undo his shirt, one button at a time, seemingly embarrassed. Mind you, I think it was this sort of naturalness that so turned me on about him. I dunno about other folks, but I haven't got much time for those professional sluts. When they dance for you it's all so practiced, so impersonal, that you might just as well be renting a holo.

Boy, on the other hand, was delicious. His grey eyes glittered over his flushed pink cheeks, still surprisingly shy after all we'd done together. He undid his shirt to the waist, and then leaned forward to pull off his boots. His braided hair fell down his bared chest, and his shirt gaped, giving me the tiniest glimpse of pinkish nipple. I slid my hand down the front my pants and felt the comfortable weight of the Old Man in there, slowly firming up.

He was still so fuckable, I thought. I'd had him in nearly every position I could think of, and yet I still wanted more from him. If only I could have had a bit more time... ah well. It would have been nice, but you can't go around having regrets about the past.

Soon Boy had the shirt off and had his thumbs hooked in his unbuttoned waistband, a grimace that I guess was supposed to be a seductive smile plastered across his face. He strolled towards me, swinging those hips and slowly, teasingly lowered his pants, swinging round to show me his pert little ass. As he bent to push the pants off he gave a little wiggle and the Monster jumped. Oh yes, very nice.

I had to frown then though. This pretty picture was not quite complete. For all his sensual moves, Boy wasn't even hard. Well, I had to do something about that. Like I said... I wanted to enjoy it all, and didn't want to have to worry about him enjoying it too. I pulled out the jar of spice and took a small fingerful. Boy watched the progress of my finger to my lips with half hooded eyes, almost calculating.

"Want some?" I said, holding up a well licked finger. Boy said nothing but when I beckoned him he edged a little closer. I dipped just the fingertip into the jar, then held it out to Boy. He didn't look like he was going to move for a moment, but just as I thought his brain had given up and gone home, he leant forward and took the finger in his mouth. I smiled. "You're getting to like this stuff, eh? Not quite so reluctant anymore..."

He sucked on my finger, swirling his tongue around the tip and then taking it deep within his slippery mouth. Oh yeah... he'd certainly been paying attention to his lessons over the past few tendays.

The next tiny dollop of the drug was on my lips. Boy leaned over me and his little moist pink tongue peeked out and cautiously licked my mouth. I grinned. It was so sweet. I undid my shirt and dropped a little bit of spice on my chest, pulling him onto my lap, his bare thighs straddling my hips.

"Take your time, kid," I reminded him. "We've got all night."

He cleaned me thoroughly. I wondered what I tasted like to him; all spice and sweat I guess, which is a combination I've always enjoyed myself. I smeared some spice on his hard little nipples and got a taste myself, suckling harder as he began to respond and writhe on top of me. A trail of spice down my belly, and it must have been pretty obvious where that was leading.

Boy looked up at me then, his eyes gone spice dark, and I nodded to him. With infinite care he opened my pants allowing my cock to spring free. Oh, it was huge and hard and so, so ready. My finger was shaking as I took the last pinch of spice and placed it gently on the very tip of the Monster's head. Boy smiled knowingly, pausing and snuffling in my short hairs while the spice burned.

"Boy..." I growled, and sighed as he closed his lips over my cock, licking up the slit and swirling his tongue over the head, easing the burning sensation of the spice but building another kind of heat. Boy's hands fisted in the bedding either side of he as he sucked and... oh yes... pulled my entire cock down his throat and swallowed around me. Balla's Tits, the boy had been practicing. He drank it all down as I came in his throat. I lay there gasping for a while, Boy stretched out stiffly next to me, his erection nudging my hip. He wasn't done yet and I certainly still wanted more. I considered for a moment and tipped his face up to look at me.

"I was thinking... would you like to do me instead?"

Boy looked a little puzzled so I spelled it out. His cock was warm and heavy in my hand, and I tugged on it gently, feeling its firm length. "Would you like to bury this sweet handful in between these gorgeous cheeks of mine? Fuck me...."

"If... if that's what my master wishes," he said.

"No," I said, trying not to be impatient. "I want to know if that's what you'd want. You wanna give it a go?" He was still looking at me blankly. "I just... I thought you might like it for a change."

Boy seemed to think about it, and then he squirmed a little. "If it's all the same to you, Master, I'd rather not." There was a little pause, and then he went on. "I just feel more comfortable if you... when you do it."

I guess I could relate to that. It wasn't his choice to be here, and if he felt better about it by not taking an active part, then I suppose I couldn't complain.

"Ok, kid," I sighed. It would have been nice, as it had been a while for me -- more than three years, I suppose. So I let him bring me back to hardness and spent a long while touching and stroking him, until I finally flipped his legs up over my shoulders and sank gratefully into his body.

He was so beautiful beneath me, his dark eyes half closed and his mouth half open and his head thrashing back and forth over the pillow. The plait snaking across his chest twitched like a live thing with his frantic movements, and his fingers clenched desperately on my arms. I drew it out, slowing down whenever I knew I was coming close, grasping his cock every time he started to flag but never quite enough to bring him over the edge. Back and forth, I pushed him until he was sobbing and begging me to finish it and to please, please let him come. I was crying out, babbling, calling him all sorts of soppy names and my legs were beginning to burn and it almost hurt to hold back any longer. I could feel his tension building, like we were sharing something deeper, touching, stroking until I could no longer tell where my body ended and his began.

Finally, finally, I just couldn't hold on and with a double scream that echoed round the room we both came, the Old Man exploding from the root in one of the best orgasms I could ever remember having. I was shaking as I collapsed on top of him, absently kissing his shoulder and burrowing into him, tears in my eyes.

After a while I had to move and rolled off him. I didn't want to let him go though. I was tired and mostly happy, but still hungry for the sensation of skin on skin. Boy was boneless, totally droopy, and I hugged him to me, pulling him so that he lay snuggled in my arms and my chin rested on the top of his hair. I felt content. More content than I had been for a while. I almost had second thoughts about selling him but then I realised, pleasant as this was, it was an illusion. He wasn't my lover. But it had been nice to be able to say goodbye this time.

Boy stirred a little awkwardly in my arms.

"You called me Jameel," he said.

"No I didn't," I said, annoyed. I thought back. "I said you reminded me of him, that's all. And you did, at first."

He shifted to look at me. "Was he your slave too?"

"No, of course not!" I was almost offended on Jameel's behalf. The idea of a man like that, with his guts and his energy and his passion for life being a slave was just plain loopy. "He was my business partner and well... just my partner.

"Where is he now?"

"He's dead, kid. Took the wrong job. I had a bad feeling about it from the start, but he did it anyway. Paid the price." It's funny, but lying there with Boy in my arms and his come slowly drying on my belly, I didn't really want to talk about Jameel.

"You miss him," Boy said quietly.

"Sure," I said. "A second pair of hands is always useful in this business. I'll miss you too, you know."

There was a bit of a pause.

"Miss me?" Boy said in a very small voice.

Oh yeah, I hadn't told him.

"I'm sorry, kid, but I'm going to have to sell you." I could feel him stiffening in my arms as I said it, and his fingers dug into my biceps. "Don't take it personal now. You've been great to have around, and I've really enjoyed getting in between those sweet cheeks of yours, but it's not working out. It's too much trouble. I've just decided I'm not really the slave-owning type."

He sat up, looking at me as if I'd hit him, shocked and a little resentful.

"I'm not going to sell you to a brothel or anything," I was quick to reassure him. "Private sale only. There's this rich merchant guy coming to inspect you in the morning. You'll have to look your best."

"Tomorrow?" he murmured. "So soon..."

His hand crept up to his throat and he looked distressed. He didn't say anything though.

"So, do you think you'll miss me?" I asked him.

"Master, if my new owner so chooses, I won't even remember you," he said, and shivered, laying his head back down on my shoulder so that I couldn't see his face. "I could have had another master before you, several even, and been a virgin for each of them. I really wouldn't know, although sometimes I think... sometimes I remember I once... loved someone. And was loved in return."

He lay curled up stiffly in my arms, and I held him, surprised to find he was shaking.

"Hey, kid," I said. "Hey, it's OK."

"No, it's not," he whispered, and then he turned his face into my chest and started crying.

"Shhh, shhh," I soothed him. "I'll find you a new master, a good man, someone who won't beat you. You'll have him wrapped around your little finger in no time, I'm sure." I smoothed his hair, grown longer in the time he'd been with me, and stroked his back.

"I hate you," he said at last.

"I know."

We slept then.

So, this guy turns up the next morning. Boy seemed fairly calm about it all on the surface, but there was a kind of nervous energy about him, throttled down tight like an engine on idle, just waiting for that spark to ignite it. I sent him off to get ready, make himself look nice. I mean, I might prefer natural charm, but any guy who buys a pleasure slave usually expects the full works with bells and trinkets. Besides, I wanted to have a look at the guy first. Check him out. I've always had a nose for crooked dealing, you know, and like I said, I wanted to make sure the kid was going to a good home.

Saartor's buyer was not quite what I expected. He arrived alone for a start. Standard human. Tall. Bearded. Lots of hair. Looking for a boy for himself, he says. He was well-dressed in good quality clothes but nothing expensive or flashy. You can tell a lot from a person's clothes, but more from a person's hands. You can always change your clothes. This guy's hands were large and slightly calloused, the nails kept short and neat, like they were used to hard work. He said he was a trader or something, but unlike most merchants he didn't seem particularly keen to make small talk. Not that he was rude or anything, no, he was quite polished, almost sophisticated. He just seemed... preoccupied perhaps. Maybe he was embarrassed about buying a pleasure slave, I wouldn't know.

Anyway, this guy, and like I said, he's so tall he's an airtraffic hazard... he's acting towards me like I'm slime, and I'm not much liking it. But, potential customer and all, I had to smile through my teeth at him. Something was telling me this wasn't the man to cross.

"You'd be getting a good bargain here," I said to him. Trying to get him to talk a bit, you know. "He was a hot little virgin when I first got him, the sweetest ass you've ever seen, just ripe for the plucking. He's barely used, really, but I can tell you pal, he's fit and healthy, very flexible, and just nicely broken in. And responsive... he really goes off when you get him going. "

If looks were lasers I'd have been a black smudge on the carpet. Well, what did he expect? Did he think the boy would be untouched? "I'm glad to hear it," he grated.

I hastened to smooth over the awkwardness. "So he's only really had one owner. He's still fairly inexperienced, so it shouldn't be hard to train him to your own personal standards. And he's a quick study, bright and attentive, and if he lacks a certain enthusiasm he is at least compliant. At least he was after I made his position clear to him... if you know what I mean. Kid does need a firm hand, but he's worth it."

"You hit him?" He sounded outraged. Didn't this guy know hitting slaves was part of the job description for a Master? He was going to have to wise up pretty fast, but I wasn't going to be giving him any more pointers.

"Oh, not enough to cause any damage," I hastened to assure the man that the merchandise was in good condition. "Just enough to show him who was the boss."

"Indeed."

Oh I wasn't liking the vibe I was getting off this guy. I have no idea why he had taken against me, but I could feel the anger in him. He looked... he looked like he could handle himself in a scrap, what with the broken nose and the way he moved. He looked more like a fucking mercenary come into money than the soft merchant he was pretending to be. Those huge hands looked like they would be more at home on a blaster, or some kind of weapon, instead of roaming free over the body of my Boy. And if his hands were big, it was a fair bet he was... you know... all over. I didn't want the kid hurt.

"Balla's Tits! I don't know what your fucking problem is." I snarled, with a thrill of fear shooting up my spine as I confronted this dangerous man. "This kid... he's just a slave, alright, but I like him, and I want to know what you're going to do with him. Because if you're not going to treat him right, you ain't getting him, OK? Do you understand me? I'm not letting him go to someone who's going to fuck him raw or mistreat him in any way, not for any money!"

The anger seemed to drain out of the man at that. Lucky for me, I think. He inclined his head graciously.

"You have my word. If he's the sort of boy I'm looking for, I will not mistreat him. I will take him and train him to my requirements, and you won't have to worry about him being abused, by me or anyone else." He paused and there was slight edge to his voice as he added, "I'm glad to see you have some concern for your... property."

Ohoh. Here he was trading in human flesh, and having the nerve to lecture me about it, the hypocrite. I was about to go on, but he interrupted me.

"Look friend, I'd really like to see the merchandise now."

Ah well, it was what he'd come for. I hit the wall-com and summoned Boy in. There was a pause, and then the door opened and in walked... no, in stalked this exotic looking fucktoy exuding just plain raw sex. I swear he must squirted a whole vial of Ravish-Me all over himself.

Was this my Boy? Well, so much for talking up his lack of experience. No way could I pass this piece of walking seduction off as 'nearly a virgin'.

You should have seen the kid. Really. He was... I wished right then and there that I didn't have to sell him, and only the fact that this merchant was already standing there gawping stopped me from calling off the sale.

Boy was wearing those whore clothes, the tight leather strappy pants and the cut off shirt with the high collar. He'd not really bothered with the gold body paint stuff, just a touch here and there to highlight his muscles and to hide the occasional skin flaw but he'd outlined those exotic eyes until they looked almost smoky. His hair was brushed till it fill soft and shiny about his face and the freshly made braid trailed once again down his taut chest.

The buyer gave a relieved kind of sigh. "Yes," he breathed. "He's just what I've been looking for." I had to collect myself so I could get on with the sale. Good little Boy... he'd just added thousands of credits to his asking price.

"He's just called 'Boy'," I said, which earned me a sharp look from the buyer. "Come here, feel how strong and firm he is, how soft his skin is."

I pulled Boy to me and ran my hands over his sweet rump for the last time. "Go on lad, strip."

"That won't be necessary," the merchant said, rather too hastily for my liking, but he beckoned the kid over to him. I pulled my hand away, already feeling the loss.

Boy slinked over, swinging his hips. His eyes were locked on the tall merchant's face, fixing him with a look that would melt plascrete.

I expected the buyer to fondle him, go the grope, but he didn't. He just stood there and raised his hand slowly to Boy's face, touching him reverently like he was one of the holy virgins of Andarres, not a well-fucked sex slave. His fingers gently traced the kid's cheekbone and trailed down along his jaw before coming to rest with the thumb dipping into that sexy little hollow in the boy's chin. Then he tipped the kid's face up to look at him, staring at him like he was trying to read his fortune in those eyes. Boy's tongue slipped out, and he licked his lips, his breath coming fast and shallow. Oh, I was impressed. He was really putting on a show for this guy.

The buyer's hand moved to take the kid's braid, smoothing down the long gold sprinkled length of it until it came to the bare skin of Boy's midriff and there it paused. Boy slowly took the large hand in his own and, still keeping his eyes locked on the other man's face, pushed the large hand down across his rippling belly and down into his pants, until it cupped his balls and clearly growing erection. Then he just stood there, gazing up seductively into the tall man's face, licking his lips. The merchant moaned faintly, standing there like he'd been shocked by a stunner.

I might as well have been invisible. The whole room -- fuck! -- the whole planet might just as well not have existed. I could almost see the erotic energy Boy was wrapping round this man. I'd had my doubts about him, but Boy had clearly decided this would be his new master, and I would have been a fool to stand between them.

I cleared my throat, before they decided to start going at it on the floor in front of me, and the merchant suddenly seemed to remember I was there. He looked at me, still slightly dazed, pulled his hand reluctantly from the kid's pants and said weakly "I'll take him."

He fumbled in his belt briefly and pulled out a small stone which might have been a navel jewel or something. It didn't look very valuable but he held it out towards the kid. "My... boy, I have a gift for you. One I think you'll appreciate."

Boy peered curiously at the stone. Maybe, like me, he was wondering what was so special about this little pebble, glowing in the palm of the tall guy's hand. An odd look came over Boy's face and he glanced up sharply at the buyer.

"What is it, Master?" he said.

I bit down on an unexpected surge of resentment, hearing my title being used to address this... so called merchant. The tall guy seemed happy enough about it though, almost beaming in fact.

Cautiously Boy put out a hand to touch the stone, but just before his fingertip reached it the big man's fingers closed about it.

"It's a key," the tall man said softly. "But perhaps it ought to wait until we are on my ship."

The price Mountain Man gave me was half again what I'd paid for him and even after Saartor's cut I made a tidy profit. He paid in Republic currency. I wasn't going to take it at first, but then I reconsidered and decided that Republic credits would do fine. After all, I do go there often enough and there's a couple of really good droid markets in the outer reaches. Still got the droid, actually. That's where my second astromech comes from.

So, I was counting the money, and he was standing there with one arm possessively round his adoring new slave, when he said to me, "You sound like a Corellian but you weren't born in Republic space, were you?"

He said it with absolute certainly. I don't know how he knew, and its not totally surprising but yeah, he was right. I said, "Yeah, my father was Corellian," and as far as I know, that's true, "but I was born in the space lanes somewhere between Iego and Aud Nuevo."

The so-called merchant nodded as if I was just confirming something he already knew. "Your life might have been a bit different in the Republic."

"I guess so," I shrugged. "But still, it suits me out here, the freedom of being my own master, always going new places, meeting new people. The things I've seen..."

He gave me a small tight smile. You know what? I bet he envied me! I bet he never got too much excitement any more, and that's why he wanted a hot new pleasure slave -- so he could re-live his glory days.

We swapped papers and I gave him the detonator remote, which he took like it was a poisoned snake. Boy had already packed his small bag of clothes and toiletries, so there was nothing for it but to see them both out the door, Boy falling in one pace behind this man as if he'd been doing it all his life. He paused as he passed me on the threshold and looked up at me like he was about to speak. I groped for something to say but nothing sprang to mind. I guess Boy felt the same because he just shrugged and then leaned up to swiftly kiss my cheek. I was surprised, as I didn't really think he'd thought much of me, but I suppose he might have been grateful I hadn't been a total bastard to him. And after all, I had been his first. As far as I know.

It was very quiet in my place after they'd left. The regular roar of engines from the spaceport sounded distant, and I wondered which ship they were leaving on. I could hear the auto-vac humming to itself in another room, but otherwise there was only a heavy kind of stillness. Like someone had died or something. I was alone again.

I had a drink or two to celebrate the sale, and tried to plan how I was going to spend my money, but this empty feeling was gnawing at my belly, like mynocks on a power coupling. So, I pushed aside my plans and stood, looking around for something else to occupy my time. For whatever reason, I found myself wandering into Boy's closet room.

It was neat, as ever, the little pallet bed made and Jameel's old overalls left neatly folded in a corner. That did me. Kneeling down, I picked them up and buried my nose in the cloth, and even if it smelled mostly of mech-oil and washing lotion, there was still a little young man smell in there. I'm not one for snivelling over every little thing, you know, but I have to admit... I got a bit choked up.

It was then that something caught my eye. Where the overalls had been lying, the floor was stained with a few droplets of brown. I leaned closer. Blood, and by the colour of it, no more than a few hours old.

A nasty suspicion struck me and I started pulling apart the kid's bedding. Yep, a little knife from the kitchen with a wickedly sharp blade, and a length of bandage, half used...

The detonator.

The son-of-a-Hutt had cut out his own detonator.

Bemused, I sat back on my heels holding the little knife in one hand. He'd sat on the bed, I guessed, looking into the small mirror that I now noticed was propped against the wall at a curious angle and cut... By Balla, the kid had guts! I don't know how he knew where the bomb was, or how he'd managed to get it out without setting it off, but I was sure that's what he'd done. A few things fell into place now, like the way he'd thrown himself at Mister Moneybags, and the high collared shirt he'd wanted... and had been wearing when he'd left. The device must have been in his neck, or close to it, probably next to one of the arteries so only a small blast would be needed to kill him. I shuddered.

I even wondered about the way he'd been acting, if he hadn't been trying to get me to sell him all along. That dumb shit puppet routine had been almost guaranteed to get up my nose. You had to admire the kid.

Of course, the new guy wouldn't know the bomb had been removed. Boy couldn't have hidden it from me, not with the way I knew his body so well, but in the blink of an eye between one owner and the next the only real thing that stood between Boy and his precious freedom had been removed. Speaking of which...

I pulled his bed apart but didn't find anything. They could be taking off any second now, the useless remote stuffed in the unsuspecting merchant's pocket, and the distance control still on. Where was the bomb? Maybe, just maybe, he'd taken it with him. I could hear another ship lifting off, a little personal runabout by the high whine, and any second now the main engines would kick in.

And just about then my bed exploded.

Smoke started pouring out of my bedroom, and the sprinklers opened up like a Nuevan storm. He'd left it on my bloody bed, the little bugger! A 'going away' present, no doubt. And, I'm sorry, I should have been angry, but I couldn't help myself. I stood there in the pouring water, drenched to the skin and laughed my bloody head off.

The whole place was a bathing pool. The auto-vac squeaked as it rocketed past me, trying to find a dry place to hide, and I cracked up completely. I laughed until my sides hurt and the tears ran down my cheeks. Bloody kid! You just had to admire his balls.

Well, that was pretty much it. My life as a slave-owner didn't last long and, although it was fun at times, I don't think I'd ever bother with it again. I guess the point of this little story, is that you should think before you go buy somebody to fuck. It doesn't always work out quite the way you expected it.

I tell you, sweet cheeks, I still think of the boy sometimes, but I've not heard anything from him. Maybe he did get mindwiped again, which would have been sad. He might even be dead, as it's a few years ago now, and slaves don't usually last very long, you know... ah well, it's just the way things are. But I like to think he made it, you know? Duped that merchant and got away somehow and he's living out there in the stars somewhere, free and happy. I guess it's the sentimental fool in me but yeah... I have this odd idea that he's doing just fine.

FIN