“You know, sometimes I wish things were just a little more clear for me,” Michael said, keeping his voice even.
“Oh, don’t be so passive, Michael. Think of every difficulty you encounter as a matter of training and see if that helps. And for God’s sake, be grateful that your training is so lenient, because I promise you, a more regulated and controlling environment would only upset you more.” Chris’s voice edged up just a little, and Michael was startled to see both a flash of anger and deep-seated annoyance—something Chris hadn’t let show in weeks. “If you were in a different style of training, you’d be having all the sex you could imagine, boy. At my whim, exactly as you will tomorrow night, except that I’d be using you regularly myself.”
“Tomorrow night?” Michael repeated in shock.
“Yes, I told you I was loaning you to Ken. I don’t imagine that what she has in mind is tea serving and boot polishing. What’s more, I expect you to be clean, groomed, and eager to cooperate with whatever she has planned, and in other words, behave exactly as what you think a slave in your position should. And, to be suitably grateful for the experience afterward. You wanted to get laid, Michael? You’ve got it. Or at least something approximating it.”
A thousand protests, questions, and complaints crowded on the edge of Michael’s lips, and he struggled to keep them back. It had been a long time since he had seen Chris angry, really angry and not just putting on a show for the slave trainees. But that nasty sneer of condescension, that tone that just raised his hackles, was so provoking, so infuriating!
“So you’re really going to hand me off to a stranger, and I have to go, no questions asked? Just like that, no preparation, no build up, no warning? How the hell is that supposed to make me feel? Like I’m ready to perform for you?”
“You’re supposed to feel like a slave, Michael, remember? Remember how you requested this? ‘I want to be trained as a classic,’ you said, and I warned you that you didn’t even know what that meant. Now, you know. Imagine what it will feel like when you’re actually sold.”
“Oh, that’s bullshit,” Michael snapped, feeling a deep warning pain in the pit of his stomach. But he was committed; he kept going. “No one trains like that any more, not even Anderson. You guys even told me that! It’s a whole new world out here, and you are absolutely fixated on the past. You’re working some kind of big scam on me, that’s what you’re doing. These other trainers might be horny for a while, but no one’s passing them around like slaves!”
“Your manners, Michael.”
Fury welled up in Michael’s throat like bile. “Dammit, you always do this! Just when I’m being totally honest with you, you cut me off!”
His voice was raised—and suddenly he could hear shushed voices in corridors not far away. The feelings of panic and anger and confusion tore at him in heavy pounding waves as he realized how much of this conversation might have been overheard.
“Oddly enough, Michael,” Chris said. “It is possible to be both honest and respectful.”
“Yes, sir,” Michael whispered, ashamed of his outburst. “I apologize.”
“Properly,” Chris said sharply.
Michael sank to his knees, feeling the shame grow throughout his body. His anger was still hot, and the corridor seemed stifling. “I apologize for raising my voice,” he began, shaking. “For using profanity, and being... difficult, sir. I—I ask you to forgive me. I beg you to forgive me. I will try to be better controlled and more respectful.” The formula for the apology assembled itself in his mind and he tried not to rush it. “Please tell me what I can do to make amends for my... outbursts.”
“Two things, Michael. You can submit your body for chastisement as I see fit, tomorrow evening, in front of Ken Mandarin and before she makes use of you. But right now, I want you to ask that question that’s burning out of you, this time properly.”
Michael’s head snapped up, and with all his strength, he asked, “Sir—were you really trained this way? Like a classic?”
“Yes, I was. In every aspect of the training, except that there was one major difference between your training and mine. Unlike you, I didn’t choose to be trained that way. I didn’t get it explained to me every step of the journey.” Chris said the words calmly, but there was something in him that made Michael feel like he was on the edge of violence.
“But—did she...she never really...just handed you off to someone, did she? Anderson? And were you really...sold? I mean—there are no records—you aren’t listed...you were never really sold, right?”
Chris looked down at Michael and caressed his right hand with his left, his face tightly drawn. For a second, Michael was sure he was going to be hit, and hard. But Chris’s eyes shifted away from him for a second, and when they turned back, Michael felt even more ashamed then he was embarrassed. Because the look of pain in Chris Parker’s face was worse than the anger had been.
Chris sighed and waved one hand. “You are dismissed, Michael. I was going to invite you to the debates, but I don’t think you’ve earned that right. Meet me at room five, Western wing, before dinner tonight. Wear a suit. Try not to get into any trouble between now and then.” He turned and walked away.
Michael waited until Chris turned a corner and then sat back onto the polished floor heavily, clenching his hands into fists. His cock was hard, his face unbearably hot. He crossed his legs and buried his face in his hands, wishing he could scream, or punch one of these beautiful walls, or just jump off a damn cliff, anything to free himself from these tightening bands of pressure. Every time he thought he was coming close to understanding, he had one of these episodes. It was like they came on a schedule, exactly in time to make things worse for him.
I
wish I knew what I was doing here
, he thought wildly.
And dammit, I wish Anderson was here. There’s something going on here that’s beyond him and me and I can’t figure out what.
* * * *
There were meditation rooms in a small outbuilding a short walk down one of the marked paths. As Chris stopped to cleanse his hands and face and mouth in the basin set by a small bubbling fountain, he tried to compose himself as he was taught; it came slowly. He removed his shoes and left them outside, and felt the silence of the space coax him toward sleep. But he shook off that wonderful temptation and sank into a kneeling posture on the smooth polished floor, his only company a simply framed print that he thought exhorted him to be like a willow. He had not gotten far in actually reading Japanese, only a few hundred kanji in addition to a more simple forty-seven character syllabary. He was, as Tetsuo’s undertrainer once called him, a dull child in spoken Japanese. But he was a complete idiot in the written forms.
Yet the print spoke to him all the same.
He was unused to sitting like this; out of practice. Not surprising, really. Neither Grendel nor Alexandra had required it of him for longer than a token of his position, and that only rarely. When he had returned from Japan, he had practiced meditation regularly. But like his Japanese, it had faded from his life. He had not even bothered to practice the language when Anderson had a client who was learning it last year; he had judged his own memory too faulty to give her the proper examples in speech.
Odd how some of it had returned last night.
He had finished the sake, feeling the faint warmth of it flowing down his throat, and then looked at Tetsuo, who was staring at him in that familiar, penetrating way that made him so damn sexy. Chris almost replied automatically, saying the words he had said on those few occasions before when people had come close to figuring out how he fit into the scheme of things, but then simply bowed his head with a sigh. “How long have you known, Sensei?”
“I am glad you didn’t feel the need to deny it,” Tetsuo said, showing his pleasure.
“Oh, I feel the need,” Chris said, with a slight smile. “But I would never insult you like that.”
“Thank you. In answer to your question, I have not really known, not in fact. I have deduced this, from the years of our association.” Tetsuo poured more for his guest and then set the bottle down carefully. “I know you, Chris Parker. And I know Anderson-sensei. There are many mysteries of your life that I have been given the favor of knowing; this was the one remaining. How was it that one who was so suited to a life of service was not secure in someone’s collar? At first, I considered that you had decided against it for...pragmatic reasons. Later on, as you completed your training and remained a trainer yourself, I considered that you had forgone the auction out of gratitude to your Sensei, to serve her as so many of us do, forgoing the simpler temptation of the collar.”
“That is often assumed,” Chris nodded. He refilled Tetsuo’s cup, since it was clear that they were not to be interrupted by the slave any more. It would be impolite for either of them to refill their own cups.
“To go through the formal training and then to give it up for a collar would be a grave waste of her time and efforts, but you would hardly be the first nor the last,” Tetsuo said. “But the truth of the matter is that she owns you, and that is how she compels your continued service as a trainer. You have belonged to her since before we met, I assume.”
Chris nodded again. “Yes, Sensei.”
“You are to be noted for your fortune, Chris Parker. The Trainer who owns no slaves has placed her mark upon you in more ways than one.” Tetsuo lifted his cup gently, and Chris took up his own. He sipped the warm liquid in honor of his trainer and owner.
“I have been...touched by fortune...in many ways, Sensei,” he said, as he placed the cup back on the table. “But I must ask you, Sensei, with all respect; since you do know, why are you discussing this with me?”
“Because you can ask that question and expect an answer,” Tetsuo said, with a look of satisfaction. He leaned back slightly, stretching. “Changes are coming, far greater ones than even the one you propose this week.” His eyes smiled, slight crinkles that reminded Chris of the deep sense of humor this man had, and how rarely he allowed it to show. “I honor my House and my Sensei with my life and deeds, but I am not blind. In order to maintain my position in this world, my own House must grow and expand. Having you as a trainer in my House will aid my program of expansion.”
Chris said nothing; it would be hard to come up with anything that didn’t sound like completely false modesty or smug pride. Besides, Tetsuo had not answered the question yet.
Tetsuo snorted appreciatively. “I discuss it with you, Chris Parker,” he said, leaning forward again, “for the joy of surprising you. For a youngster, you are often world-weary, cynical, too assured of your place under heaven. I am sure I was not the only one in your life who enjoyed shaking you from your calm acceptance of your circumstances.”
Astonishingly, Chris felt the pleasurable warmth of embarrassment spread through him. He couldn’t bring himself to blame the sake.
“I have never forgotten training you,” Tetsuo said thoughtfully. “At the start, your very presence was only suffered because of my long friendship and respect for Sensei Anderson. I expected you to leave, to fail, to break. And after Noriko...” He sighed, and Chris lowered his head again, this time closing his eyes for a moment. They let the name waver in the air between them, acknowledging their shared past, and Tetsuo’s great loss.
“After Noriko, I realized that having you at my service had given me greater ease than I could have assumed possible. I do enjoy shocking you, Chris Parker. I enjoy it now as much as I did years ago. I also enjoyed your small rebellions and your great disobediences. I enjoyed making your will bend to mine. It is a rare slave that catches my attention in these ways, and I find I miss having such a diversion for longer than it takes to place a new client into the Marketplace. I am not like my respected colleague, Sensei Anderson. I own with pleasure. It would please me to own you.
“So I discuss it with you because I know that valuable property such as you cannot be held lightly. I would not have you unaware; that is a test for novices. I already know that you would mount the auction tables and go willingly and serve with honor. That would be the greatest surprise for you, would it not? And from that moment, your experiences would diminish.”
“I don’t know that,” Chris said quietly. “Since I have not experienced the auction block.”
“You are experiencing it now,” Tetsuo said casually. “Your new... form, your modern haircut, your tailored suit, none of these things hide your essence from me. Your throat is bound with silk instead of chain, but we both know where the true mark of your ownership lies. We sit here as proper men, sharing sake as friends, but you have not forgotten my rule, at least I do not think so.”
“No, Sensei, I have not,” Chris admitted.
“Then do not be fooled, Chris Parker. You are here as an independent trainer, honored by your peers, leader in an honorable struggle for order, yes. But you are also here displaying your worth. If I can see how it is you come to be here, you must realize that there are trainers much wiser than I. Who can say which of them are assessing your value as we speak? Who among them might also be wondering how to acquire you in one way or another? As these hours and days pass, I will begin my negotiations with Sensei Anderson, whether she comes here or not. You are Merchandise, young trainer. Merchandise I have decided to acquire.” Tetsuo stretched again and smiled, his eyes sharp with a sudden pleasure. “Aside from that, I have taken the liberty of reserving a bath-house, and I am all consumed with curiosity about this campaign of physical fitness and art of the body upon which you have embarked. I cannot compel you by rights, but I can invite you as a friend, and a former student, to bathe with me. Can you do this, or must you retire?”