by Jane Kindred
“Listen to Silk.” He patted Vasily and went to the door. “And Silk, find out if he has any special skills. He’s been trained as a submissive, but I don’t think he’s had much discipline.” Vasily disguised a snort by coughing into his hand.
“Lovely hair,” said Silk, hopping down from his bunk. He took hold of the plait draping Vasily’s shoulder and stroked his fingers through it. “It’ll be nice when it’s clean.”
Vasily bristled. He was perfectly clean to begin with, but the glamour had given him the smooth, shiny hair he’d had when he was younger. No one had ever complained about it.
Silk began to undo Vasily’s belt, and Vasily slapped him away. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“We need to clean you up,” said Silk patiently. “Our patrons are very particular. Come on, Ruby. Don’t be shy.”
He reached for the belt once more, but Vasily stepped back. “I can undress myself.”
“That’s quite commendable, though not really a skill you need here,” Silk observed. “But that’s all right. You go ahead for now.” The young demon stepped aside and waited while Vasily reluctantly peeled out of his clothes and his boots, trying to ignore Silk’s appraising eye and the curious glances of the other boys from their bunks. “You can drop them in the bin over there.” Silk pointed at what was clearly a trash bin, and Vasily hesitated. “Don’t worry. We have clothes in your size.”
Vasily swallowed a sigh. He’d agreed to play the role. He might as well do it. Silk gave him a broad smile as if his dimwitted charge had managed to use the chamber pot properly and took him by the hand to lead him into a curtained-off room in the back. An empty wooden tub sat in the center with a large metal bucket of water beside it.
Silk swept up his long fall of hair into a knot and rolled up his sleeves. “Step in.” He nodded toward the tub. “Kneel.”
Vasily obeyed, with a wary eye on the bucket. When Silk ladled a scoop of water and poured it over his head, he let out a yelp of surprise. He’d expected it to be hot, but it was ice cold. Instinctively, he increased his body temperature, heating the water as it dripped over him, and Silk watched wide-eyed as it steamed.
“I’m a firespirit,” Vasily growled at him. “And you might have warned me.”
“Never seen a firespirit do that before,” said Silk, impressed. “He filled the ladle again, but Vasily stopped him.
“Wait.” He rose up on his knees and put his hand inside the bucket, heating the water to a decent temperature for a bath.
“Now that is a useful skill,” said Silk. “Can you concentrate that heat in a particular area?”
Vasily gave him a knowing look. “Yes.”
Silk shook his head and lowered his voice. “Don’t answer like that if anyone else asks you. Your slow-witted act will serve you better. You had me going, and you obviously fooled Raum. But they don’t appreciate savvy at the Fletchery.” He commenced ladling the steamy water over Vasily, adding a few drops of sweet-smelling musky oil to it. “Rub that through your hair, and then I’ll give you a bit for your skin.” He stepped back and folded his arms while Vasily stroked the oil over himself. “How old are you, Ruby?”
Vasily paused, and then answered honestly, “I don’t know.”
“Say thirteen if you’re asked.”
Vasily observed him. “How old are you?”
“Older than they think,” said Silk quietly. “I tell them I’m sixteen, but even that’s too old for most at the Fletchery now, so I’m here as a sort of den mother.” He shrugged. “It’s a nice job. I keep the boys in line, and I make sure no one’s hurting them. Unless they don’t mind a little pain. You really a submissive?”
Vasily gave him a sidelong glance. “Well…I don’t mind a little pain.”
Silk laughed and crossed his arms on the edge of the tub. “I suppose that explains this.” He touched the points of the steel bar in Vasily’s skin. “But it’ll have to come out. Do these twist off?”
Vasily stood abruptly, nearly upending the tub. “No. It stays.”
Silk rose with a frown. “If it’s your former master’s mark, you have to forget about him. He sold you.”
“He’s not my master, he’s—” Vasily clamped his mouth shut. Fine job he was doing playing his part.
Silk held out his hand. “Give it to me, Ruby. You can’t keep it. They won’t tolerate it. Whoever you think he was to you, he is nothing to you now. Did you think he loved you?” Silk’s gray eyes regarded him with pity. “No one who loved you would have sent you here.”
Vasily’s hand dropped away from the piercing. Silk didn’t understand. He couldn’t know what Vasily was really doing here. He had to play his part.
“I thought mine loved me too.” Silk loosened the spiked cap. “But I was only a possession, and one he soon tired of when another pretty face came along.” The spike fell into Silk’s hand, and Vasily felt the bar slip from his skin. Silk dropped the pieces into his pocket and gave Vasily his hand to help him out of the tub. “Come on, Ruby. Let’s make you so pretty it kills him when he sees you as another demon’s toy.”
Vasily submitted to Silk’s ministrations, kneeling while the older-but-younger boy combed his hair until it gleamed and tied it off near the bottom with a bright scarlet bow. He dressed him in a pair of the loose cotton trousers Vasily had seen on the other boys, like pajamas from the world of Man.
“Here in the dormitory, you’ll be glad of the lack of a shirt,” said Silk, heading back through the curtain. “It gets unbearably warm with all the bodies in here.” Silk stopped before an empty bed. “This is your bunk. No fraternizing. No self-pleasuring. No getting up to use the chamber pot without being told to go. And you’ll receive an enema after the morning meal to make sure everything’s fresh as a rose.”
Vasily sat on the bunk at Silk’s direction. “What’s an enema?” Several of the boys nearby laughed.
“Proof,” said Silk, “that what goes up must come down.”
Fledglings had passed through the salon in groups of four throughout the afternoon, but Vasily was nowhere to be seen. Belphagor was on the verge of blowing his cover and demanding the return of his boy when Khai entered and caught his eye. Like the other boys he’d seen paraded about, Khai wore nothing but a pair of thin pants with a drawstring waist. The pale flaxen color of the fabric accentuated his rich skin tone, and several heads turned to admire him. The protocol was that prior to an actual purchase, a fledgling could be ordered like a drink by anyone who wished for a closer inspection.
Belphagor nodded to the hovering attendant, dubbed the sommelier. “I’d like to sample that one.” He raised his drink toward Khai.
“Excellent choice,” the sommelier agreed. He handed Belphagor a playing card and made a note on the slate he carried as he continued making the rounds of the patrons, filling up the spaces allotted for each fledgling as they wandered through, some with eyes downcast, others, like Khai, putting on the charm for every demon who looked his way. At the opposite end of the room, each fledgling entered a separate curtained niche once the attendant gave him the nod that his “tasting card” had been filled.
When it came to each patron’s turn, the attendant collected the card, and the patron entered the niche marked with the same suit. The rules had been explained in advance: until purchased, a fledgling must remain chaste, but a patron could sample the fledgling’s oral and manual skills or pleasure the fledgling if he so chose, so long as no one reached completion. To avoid suspicion, Belphagor had selected a few boys over the course of the afternoon and spent his reserved minutes speaking to them, politely inquiring about how they were treated and how they’d come to the Fletchery. To a boy, they’d been sold by a parent to pay a debt. It was a common enough tale among demon families—too many mouths to feed and not enough trade apprenticeships to sell one’s children to in order to make ends meet.
Khai sat with his legs stretched out and his ankles crossed, casually awaiting his next patron, as Belphagor entered. “I w
as wondering when you’d get here. The last fellow couldn’t get an erection, and the one before him was positively vile and I refused, but you I’d be happy to suck.”
“There will be no sucking,” Belphagor snapped.
“You know I’m not actually a boy, right?”
“I don’t care. That’s not why I’m here. Have you seen him?”
“Ruby? He’s fine. Being primped and instructed.”
“Ruby?”
“That’s the name they’ve given him. He won’t be out on the floor until tomorrow, so you should either purchase an entertainment package or come back in the morning if you aren’t capable of keeping your shit together until you’ve seen him. But Armen’s expecting you to be gathering information, so I hope you haven’t been utterly wasting your time.”
Belphagor gaped at him. Despite knowing Khai wasn’t a youth, it was unnerving to hear him speak with such confident cynicism through the illusion of the glamour. “I’m not here to purchase entertainment,” he grumbled, cross because Khai was right.
“But you could purchase the Ingénue: An evening of stimulating companionship and dining,” he recited. “Companions must be returned in original condition.”
Belphagor folded his arms with a grudging lift of his shoulders. “I suppose I could.”
“I imagine it would give you ample opportunity to observe the angelic patrons. The Ingénue is a favorite of theirs. That’s one of the reasons Armen needed someone besides me on the inside. They like to behave as if they’re keeping their dicks clean, merely interested in the novelty of youthful companionship, and tend to use coercive fletching without paying so no one’s the wiser.” Khai wiggled his toes. “Plus, the dinner is fabulous.”
“What makes you think I’d select you?” Belphagor delivered it deadpan, and then laughed out loud at the disgruntled look on Khai’s face.
Khai kicked at him playfully. “You bastard.” His foot rested on Belphagor’s. “Sure you don’t want me to give you a little oral sampling?” He fluttered his lashes as he rubbed his bare foot up the side of Belphagor’s leg. “We have a few more minutes.”
Belphagor took a firm step back. “Good Heavens, no. Sorry,” he amended when Khai looked embarrassed. “The realism of the illusion is far too disturbing. Ask me when you’re older,” he added with a wink. “I have a feeling Vasily’s punishment will need to be extended.”
A tug on the curtain announced their time was up, and Belphagor pulled the fabric aside. “I’d like to purchase the Ingénue package with this delicious little treat for this evening,” he told the attendant.
The demon glanced at his board. “My apologies, sir, but his evening has already been purchased.”
“Just his evening, I hope, and not his feathers?”
“Just his evening. He’ll still be on the market tomorrow.”
“May I place a reservation on his fletching?” He turned and smiled indulgently at Khai. “It seems he’s rather in demand, and I’d hate to miss that.”
“Certainly. For tomorrow?”
“No.” Belphagor twirled his finger in one of Khai’s curls. “No, I’m a bit of a masochist as well as a sadist. I’d like to enjoy him in his guileless state until he breaks me down and I can’t stand another moment and simply have to have him. I’ll reserve the Ingénue package for tomorrow evening if I may, and place a hold on his fletching indefinitely, to be consummated at my discretion.”
“Very good.” The sommelier made a note on his board.
Khai beamed up at him. “Thank you, sir. I hope I please you.”
“I’m sure you will,” said Belphagor. “Since, as we’ve discussed, you’re quite amenable to physical discipline, we’ll have plenty of time for exploring that in the meantime.”
Vasily sat on his bunk, distinctly uncomfortable after the morning ablutions. The enema had been a bit of a surprise, but it was not being allowed to urinate after enduring it that seemed like torture. He’d have to limit his intake of water for the rest of his stay if this was going to be the norm.
While he awaited the call for his group to report, Silk approached him. “Ready for your debut, Ruby?”
Vasily shrugged. “I’d rather take a piss.”
Silk laughed. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and you’ll get to do both.” He winked and fished in the pocket of the robe he was allowed to wear over his slacks since he was no longer on the market. “Listen, I know you’re missing your former master. I had one of the girls make you this.” He held out a crocheted choker made from scarlet thread. “Your master’s mark is stitched into it here.” Silk showed him what seemed to be a decorative knot at the front. Vasily rubbed his thumb over it, too overcome to speak. “They’ll assume it’s only fashion, and the collar will also serve to let patrons know you’re trained in submission.” He took the choker from Vasily’s hand and went around the bed to kneel behind him on the mattress, placing the choker over his throat and tying the loose ends in the back. Vasily put his hand to his throat and couldn’t stop the tears that slipped from the corners of his eyes.
Silk tucked Vasily’s hair behind his ear and spoke quietly. “It’s all right. You don’t have to forget him. Just remember that you’re worth more than his price. He never understood your true value.”
Vasily quickly smudged the tears away, glancing up as Silk rose. “Silk—why do they call you that?”
The young demon gave him a little smile. “Touch me and find out.” He winked again and walked away.
He looked for Belphagor in the salon, his heart sinking when he didn’t see him as he passed through. After a quick glance about to confirm it, he kept his head down, figuring it was in keeping with his role. Once inside his curtained niche, however, he discovered his card had filled promptly, with patrons coming in practically trembling with anticipation. He was free to refuse attentions from anyone, Silk had told him, but it would arouse suspicion if he refused everyone, so Vasily played coy as Belphagor had bidden him, keeping his hands in his lap and his eyes down but not precisely refusing anything. More than one had moved his hands aside and fondled him, admiring his proportions, but no one coerced him into returning the favor.
His last patron for the morning was Kezef, the handsome, ashen-haired demon he’d seen when Belphagor first brought him in. The demon was as tall as Vasily’s true height, with the trim build and well-developed muscles of a man who was used to physical exertion.
He stood inside the curtain observing Vasily. “My, my. What a divine little devil. And ready for me, I see.” His amber eyes—enhanced by topaz oil, no doubt, but striking just the same—flicked to the partial erection from his previous patrons’ explorations that Vasily couldn’t hide in the thin fabric of his pants. “I’ve been told you follow orders. Is that true?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Take off your pants.”
Vasily slipped the pants down and stepped out of them.
Kezef tossed them over his shoulder. “What will you do if I keep these?”
“Sir?”
“Will you walk out and display that marvelous cock of yours?”
Vasily bit his lip, certain that if he answered either way, the demon would open the curtain and test him.
“Lift up the cushion on the seat,” he ordered. Vasily complied and found a wooden lid in the bench concealing a chamber pot. “I know the state they keep you boys in when you wake. I suspect you’re more than a bit uncomfortable. Let’s see if you can piss with that hard-on.”
Vasily stood over the hole and tried to aim his cock down, but the angle was awkward. Kezef stepped up behind him and wrapped a hand around his, bending him over and pressing close against him.
“Piss, boy,” he ordered and squeezed. Vasily groaned and released his bladder, the piss spurting wildly but inside the pot. Kezef’s hand slid down around the head of Vasily’s cock so that he was pissing between the demon’s fingers, and when Vasily was through, Kezef grabbed him by the back of the neck so he couldn’t straighten and lifted his cup
ped hand to Vasily’s mouth. “Drink.”
Vasily tried to turn his head, but Kezef clapped his hand over Vasily’s mouth and held his nose, tilting his head back with the piss dripping over his lips until he had to open his mouth to breathe. Despite his best efforts, he swallowed some. Kezef stroked his damp hand over Vasily’s face and neck, soiling the choker before he let him up. “Turn around, boy. On your knees.”
Humiliated, Vasily sank to the ground in front of him while Kezef presented his cock.
“Take it in your mouth, boy.” He pressed against Vasily insistently, and Vasily opened. Kezef stopped just inside. “Look at me,” he ordered. Vasily looked up, and the demon smiled. “Will I come, or will I piss?” Vasily began to shake. “Suck on me, and let’s see which one I give you.” Kezef pushed himself in farther just as a hand jerked on the curtain.
“Time’s up,” the attendant called.
“Shame,” said Kezef. He withdrew and put himself together. “We’ll have to find out another time. He yanked open the curtain, exposing Vasily. “Put me down for the Ingénue this evening.”
“Very good, sir.” The attendant gave no indication that there was anything out of the ordinary in Vasily kneeling naked on the floor.
“See that he cleans his face before dinner,” said Kezef and started to walk away, then seemed to recall the pants draped over his shoulder. “I suppose you’ll want these.” He dropped them where he stood, leaving Vasily to crawl out and pull them on in full view of everyone. The only mercy was that Belphagor still hadn’t made an appearance.
Vasily scurried back to the dormitory, unpleasant heat prickling his skin and the taste and smell of his own piss strong. He began to shake from head to toe when he reached his bunk, curling into a ball.
“Ruby?” Silk hurried to his side. “What’s the matter? What happened?”
“Don’t.” Vasily buried his face in his arms.
“Kezef had him,” said one of the boys.
Silk hissed between his teeth. “That sukin syn.” The young demon stroked Vasily’s shoulder, but Vasily rebuffed him. Silk sat back on his heels. “I’m sorry, Ruby. I should have warned you.”
