Playing With Fire

by Sean Michael

  Wintras beamed at him, hugged him tight. "You are free! Look at him, Zujan, he is so relieved he cries tears of joy. It is well worth my sacrifice."

  "Indeed." Zujan held one hand out to Rall. "Come, Prince. Let us find you clothing and jewels and my final gifts to you." Those dark eyes met Wintras'. "You will join us this evening at the Prince's farewell banquet."

  His heart was broken, sobs constant.

  "As you command, so will I do." Wintras' voice was tight. "Until the moon is again full."

  "That is right, pretty pet, and come willing." Zujan took Rall's hand, fingers ice cold. "Now Prince Rall, come with me."

  Rall went, managing to not press close until the door closed. "Master, please!"

  "Sh..." The cold hand stroked his jaw. "You have pleased me in all things, Pet. You and I will be allies for all time, as your father and I were, your grandfather."

  "I have served you in all things, I have denied you nothing. Why are you punishing me?"

  "Do not question me, sweet pet." Those eyes met his. "Your time here was up when the moon faded, your contract filled."

  He went to his knees, accepting his Lord's will in this as all else, though it broke his heart, perhaps more so because he knew the one who replaced him was unwilling. "I love you, Master Zujan."

  A soft chuckle sounded. "I know, Pet, and I will receive you as often as you appear. Come, let me fill you, hear you beg one last time."

  His heart leapt, as did his prick. "As my master wishes."

  ***

  Wintras paced from one end of the small room to another. He was warm; he'd been fed and watered, pleasured. When he'd said he would refuse those things from Zujan. At least he knew he had not made the bargain while under the influence of hunger and thirst. He had saved poor Rall, Rall who had been so kind to him, who had saved him, from more torture at Zujan's hands.

  He tried the door and found it open, but a guard stood on the other side of it.

  "His Lordship said you were not to be disturbed until it was time to take you to the banquet."

  Which Wintras translated as, despite your word you are still a prisoner within this room. At least it was warmer than the dark, damp dungeon. Though, as he had told Zujan, a gilded cage was nonetheless a cage. And there by his own word or no, he was still a prisoner. He explored his cage.

  The walls were quite bare, a single, small fire burned in the fireplace. There was a chair by the fire and the bed along the wall with its silken sheets. That was it.

  Perhaps this cage was not so gilded after all.

  He went back to the door and pulled it open, a little surprised it still yielded to him. "Where are my clothes?" he asked the guard.

  "If the Master wants you to have some, they'll be brought."

  Wintras stared at the guard, waiting for him to laugh. The man did not. He closed the door, sinking to the floor, wrapping his arms around himself. He had promised Zujan a full lunar cycle. What had he done?

  He had saved Rall from more suffering, more servitude to Zujan. That was what he had done. It was the right thing.

  Wintras straightened and went to the bed, tearing one of the sheets in half and tying the ends together around one shoulder. It was an ill-fitting robe, but it covered him.

  A tiny slip of a lad wearing the ubiquitous tunic popped in, eyes shining, blond hair mussed. "Master's sent me to bathe you and get you ready for the banquet."

  He looked around. "I see no bath."

  Just because he had agreed to be Zujan's slave did not mean he needed to be gracious and seeing another of Zujan's slaves, and this one so young, brought his anger back to fore.

  "Uh. No. The tubs are in the bathing chambers." He got another smile. "Do you sleep where you bathe at your home?"

  "In the winters, yes -- we keep to the main rooms with the big fires. I didn't expect to be allowed out of my cage for the bath," he admitted. It was hard to stay angry when the only person to let it out on was this lovely imp.

  "Oh, the cages only come out when Master has a big party and dresses the boys like birds." His hand was taken and he was led out of the room.

  He spluttered, but he could think of nothing to say in reply to that, remembering the boys mounted on the walls like hunting trophies.

  The boy's hand was small and warm and, frankly, comforting. Rall's attentions had saved his life, but they had been wrapped in fevered dreams and a haze. The boy's touch was sweet, comforting. Suddenly he missed his home very, very much.

  "Cook has made all sort of sweets, she sent samples at lunch. You're very lucky. The bath is drawn and I'm the very best at hair washing. I wash the Master's hair."

  "You don't have to serve me... what's your name?"

  "Patin, and I don't mind working. I like washing. It's so much better than freezing."

  "Were those your choices, Patin?" he asked sadly.

  "Well, where Master's guard found me? Yes. Ma and Da had got the plague and were rotten and Master had me and Win and Lacy and Kat in to learn to wash and cook and stuff."

  "Oh. I'm sorry about your parents, Patin." There wasn't much more he could say than that, was there? It certainly didn't fit with the image he'd made of Zujan. Of course the man hadn't rescued the boys into a life of luxury, but one of servitude. So it wasn't like the man was suddenly a saint or anything.

  Wintras tried to watch the way they were going, but Patin seemed to be winding this way and snaking that way and Wintras was totally and entirely lost.

  Patin finally opened a door to a room with a huge copper tub, filled with steaming water. "Here we are! Hop in."

  Oh. Oh, a bath. A *bath*. Water, hot and steaming. Soap. Clean. He was so dirty. It had been days since he'd washed and he'd been in that dingy dungeon for most of it.

  He pulled off his makeshift robe and stepped into the steaming water, moaning as he sank down into it. Patin grabbed a sweet-smelling soap and began washing him, touch gentle, careful. He was going to tell Patin again that this wasn't necessary, but the boy's touch was so sweet and welcome, made him feel less alone. So he said nothing, just sighed happily as the dirt was washed away.

  His hair was cleaned and scrubbed, rinsed, the tangles gently worked out. His eyes closed and he moaned. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so pampered. Patin began to sing, the sound happy and sweet, relaxed, easy. He hummed along, falling into a doze. He was allowed to luxuriate, to rest, his hair carefully brushed and braided.

  He had to remind himself that Zujan was his captor. A user. His enemy.

  Finally one little hand stroked his shoulder. "You need to dress. It's almost time."

  "Thank you, Patin." He got out of the water and let Patin dry him, the towel soft as if it were silk.

  He wondered what exactly Zujan would consider proper attire for him. He was not going to be happy in one of those little tunics that exposed him. Indeed, he was offered a tunic, short and brief, embroidered around the edge.

  "Where's the rest of it?" he demanded. He was not going to attend Zujan with his privates hanging out.

  "The rest? This is all." Patin held it up, the edge would just cover his buttocks. "It's the right size."

  "It needs to be longer. Or I need breeches to go with it." He was not going to wear this and only this. He was not. Not.

  "Longer?" Patin tilted his head. "Too small? Okay. Yes. I'll find a bigger one. Maybe."

  "No maybe. I need a bigger one. Now. Right away. Before I have to go to this banquet with the master. Please, Patin." Patin nodded, rummaging, digging around until a deep blue tunic was produced, long enough to cover him to mid-thigh. He beamed at the boy. "Patin! You're wonderful."

  He put it on happily. "It's perfect."

  Patin beamed, eyes shining. "Good. We should go. The food will be ready."

  He reached out to stroke Patin's cheek. "Thank you."

  The boy bounced and hugged him. "Oh, I do like you. I hope you're happy here."

  "I'll be happy to spend time with you, Patin." But that would
be it.

  "Well, the Master's favorite is very busy, but I'll bathe you every day."

  He was led along one hallway after another. Master's favorite. The words echoed in his head, making him dizzy. How could he be Zujan's favorite? He hated the man, had made no effort to hide that fact.

  A set of huge doors appeared and Patin stopped. "In there. Eat a pastry for me!"

  He nodded, resisting hanging back, clinging to this wee lad. He lifted his head and pushed open the doors, walking in as if he were the Lord here.

  "Oh, you did find us! Welcome, Pet, and help us send our dear Prince off in style." Zujan was lounging, dressed in pure white, pearls in his hair. Rall was dressed in the greatest finery, looking small and unsure and scared.

  "I'm not yours. And I would prefer you didn't call me your Pet." He went and sat on the other side of Rall, refusing to look at Zujan.

  "Now, now. You promised to submit, sweet Pet. Play nicely."

  The table was loaded with food -- roast and roots and pastries.

  "I agreed to submit, not to become yours. And I am playing nice -- although I should have said please. Please, do not call me your Pet." He still didn't look at Zujan, instead he focused on the food, his stomach growling. It had been so long since he'd had a good meal.

  "Eat. Eat, my dear ones." Zujan's laugh grated, the sound merry and amused.

  He reached for one of the pastries, remembering Patin's request. He wished there was a way for him to smuggle some out for the boy. Rall ate little, Zujan even less, the thin fingers picking. He was starving, though, and ate hungrily.

  He had a new tactic now. He would kill Zujan with kindness. He would be polite and do as he was told and get strong and when the moon was full he would take as many of the slaves as he could and run. Of course to do that he would have to look at the man.

  "Tell us a tale of your homeland, dear boy. Amuse my sweet Prince Rall."

  Wintras smiled at Rall. "Well my favorite tale was always the one where the good boy defeats the evil king. Would you like to hear that one, Rall?"

  Rall's eyes were wide, shocked. "I... Of course. Please."

  Zujan chuckled softly. "That sounds like a lovely story. Do tell."

  "One upon a time there was a prin -- a boy. Who was very good to his subj -- neighbors.

  "Everything was good until the evil king showed up. The boy's family tried to mollify the evil king with presents, but in the end, the evil king took the boy and hid him away in his castle.

  "The evil king wanted the boy to join him in his evil ways, but the boy wouldn't succumb, no matter what the evil king did and in the end the boy escaped and the evil king died alone."

  Zujan's chuckle filled the room. "Oh, what a gloomy story, my sweet Pet. How about this one? Once upon a time there was a spoiled Prince whose parents left him with a clever ally to gain an education. He learned his limitations and then, after offering himself willingly and easily, returned home to his father."

  Wintras glared at his plate, still refusing to look at Zujan. "I have asked you, quite politely, not to call me pet. As for your story? As arrogant as you are."

  "Ah, yes. Not my Pet. My sweet beauty. My prince. My dear boy. Which do you like, Prince Rall?"

  "I always prefer Pet, my Lord."

  He shook his head, wondering if he had bought the wrong man's freedom with his subservience. He would have liked to have freed Patin. "I prefer prince."

  "My Prince? It has a ring." Zujan made a clucking noise. "Look at me, my prince."

  His hands turned to fists, but he had given his word to submit, to obey, and he was true to his word. He turned to Zujan, letting his loathing show in his eyes.

  Zujan's eyes were black, shining. "You have sworn to do my will, my prince. I will have you, every bit of you."

  The man was beautiful. Cold and heartless, brutal, but beautiful. He would not be swayed by beauty. "I will submit, Zujan, but you will never have my heart or my soul. My respect and my love are reserved for those who deserve them."

  "I have no use for your heart. Only your body and your obedience."

  Rall whimpered.

  "Good because that is all you will ever have, and never given willingly, only to save another." He pet poor Rall's arm.

  "Of course. Our dear martyr." Zujan plucked a grape from the table, slowly eating it.

  "If I am a martyr it is only because you make me one." He was not noticing how red Zujan's lips seemed against the perfect pale skin, how the man's tongue played with the grape before it disappeared behind now wet lips. No, not at all.

  Little firefaeries sprang up, dancing upon the food, the colors bright and stunning. He watched them, transfixed. These were the little firefaeries that had wreaked havoc at the ball and yet... they were so beautiful. They seemed to dance, to twirl and spin and bounce over the table.

  As if possessed, he reached out toward one.

  Rall jerked, grabbed his hand. "They burn!"

  He blinked, looking at Rall and then at Zujan. "The tarts -- they're drugged, aren't they?" he accused.

  "Pardon me?" Zujan honestly looked confused.

  "You didn't eat any of them. You're drugging me." It was the only explanation for the way he was noticing Zujan, for his dangerous fascination with the firefaeries.

  Zujan snorted, held out a long, thin hand. "Hand me one."

  He chose one and handed it over, glaring. "It doesn't mean anything. It's not poison, of course you wouldn't mind eating one."

  Zujan nibbled at it. "Why would I drug you, my Prince? I have your word you will submit."

  "Because... because you want me to want it." It sounded stupid, even to his own ears. Zujan probably wanted him to suffer every moment.

  "You will find pleasure, my prince. I have no doubt."

  "That's all right -- I have doubt enough of that for both of us." Drugging him was the only way he would find pleasure in his submission.

  A finger dipped into the crust of the pastry, Zujan licking the dark berries, obviously enjoying the treat. It was very... sexy. He blinked rapidly as tears threatened. He was so confused and his head was starting to hurt. "You should have some wine, some roast. You spent many days in hunger." He shook his head. No, he couldn't eat. It would be giving in. He couldn't give in. He'd been tricked into eating the tart. "Wintras. I order you to eat, sustain yourself."

  Rall's eyes were huge, watching them.

  He reached out and picked up a grape, putting it carefully into his mouth and eating it. Zujan echoed his actions, licking and sucking the purple orb, sucking the juice from it. He gasped, his cock throbbing at the sight. He nearly choked on his own grape and he tore his eyes away from Zujan. Drugs or a spell. The man was a mage after all, it was obvious he had been enspelled.

  Rall patted his back, leaning close. "There is no shame in this, Wintras. I swear to you."

  "Except that I don't want it, Rall. I don't want him. I don't want to be here."

  "You swore to submit. He is a man of his word."

  "I will submit, Rall. And you will be free. But I don't want him."

  "You will." Rall's fingers brushed his cheeks. "You will."

  "I will not." What scared him was that perhaps Rall was right. He straightened his spine and stared at the wall across the room. He would not go down without a fight.

  "Strip him, Rall, and ready him for me. We will show him what it means to want."

  He gasped, eyes shooting to Zujan. He knew this was coming, had known from the start and knew that he must accept it when he agreed to submit, but here, in front of everyone? The man truly was a monster.

  Rall stood, shaking his head, one hand held out. "You must learn to control your tongue."

  He stood, not taking Rall's hand. He would submit, but he had never said he would make it easy for anyone. "I can remove my own clothing," he said tightly, pulling the tunic from his body.

  It wasn't that he minded nudity -- in fact he quite enjoyed it, but here it was being used to shame him. And that he did
not like in the least.

  Zujan pulled a bottle of green oil from a box at the foot of his bench. "Here, Rall. This should slick the way."

  He bit his lip. He would not cry. He was here of his own free will. That he had never performed this particular act and would do so as a... as a sideshow for entertainment value meant nothing. Really, the whole thing meant nothing, just another proof that Zujan was a heartless monster.