Tolrek made the final adjustments on the replica of Alrak Nor. Then, his wrench still in his hand, he proudly admired his work. He closed his eyes, indulging in the memories of piloting the machine. His reminiscing did not last long; Halsam pulled him away from his revelry.
“Tolrek, dinner will be ready in about ten minutes,” Halsam announced, entering the workroom.
“It wasn’t that important of a message,” Tolrek said. “You could have used the intercom system, sent a bot, even tell Fei to let me know…”
“How dare you reduce me to a messenger?” Fei asked, sending a current up through the rebel’s right left. Tolrek flinched as the electricity traveled across his testicles. Despite the pain, he laughed, enjoying his bantering with Fei.
“Darion’s going to be very angry if you burn those off,” Tolrek said to her.
“As your top, it’s not your balls he really wants,” Fei fired back.
“Oh, you’re feisty today,” Tolrek teased her. Fei chuckled and materialized in front of him.
“Yes but I knew you were almost finished with Alrak,” Halsam admitted. “I was just curious about your unit.”
Tolrek grinned. Halsam blushed when he caught the meaning behind the rebel’s expression.
“Not that unit…” He put some distance between himself and Tolrek. “Besides, compared to Sir Darion’s, yours is nonexistent.”
As he ran to escape Tolrek, Halsam crashed into Darion, who was on his way to the dining room.
“What are you doing?” the negotiator demanded, grabbing Halsam by the arm.
“He was telling me that your cock’s larger than mine,” Tolrek said, eager to share the information.
“No, I wasn’t!” Halsam protested.
Darion focused his penetrating gaze on his servant and he shook the young man firmly.
“Yes. You’d be well-advised to do something constructive.”
“I’ll go see if Arjan needs any help,” Halsam mumbled, sliding past the negotiator.
“You’re still in a bad mood,” Tolrek stated, when Halsam disappeared.
“Maybe but never mind that…Come take a bath with me, come wash me.”
“Oh really, can I have that great honor?” Tolrek asked, sarcastically.
The way Darion said his name made Tolrek pause and put his joking aside. There was a need in Darion’s voice, a note of vulnerability, which the rebel didn’t often hear.
While they were in the bath hall, Darion soaked, as Tolrek poured water over his shoulders. Then he began to massage them, working away the stiffness that seemed to have been there for days. Darion was still agitated because of Halsam getting arrested. The situation had been resolved. No one had pressed charged, thanks to Darion’s intervention. Given the positive resolution, Tolrek believed that there had to be more to Darion’s dark mood.
“D…” Tolrek murmured. He’d found himself giving the negotiator a nickname. Darion liked hearing it, though he hadn’t yet admitted so.
“What’s bothering you? It can’t be the usual stress. What’s different?”
Darion didn’t reply. Instead, he tried to distract Tolrek. His strong hands pulled the rebel to him and he tasted him. Their kisses were becoming fervent, their attraction quickly driving them towards the same goal. So when Darion suddenly pushed Tolrek away, it surprised both of them. Tolrek searched Darion’s face for an answer.
“Tolrek, I’ve done something that…”
“What is it?’ Tolrek asked.
“Nothing,” the negotiator responded. He waded to the other side of the pool. Closing his eyes, he rested in the water, shutting out Tolrek.
Tolrek looked at the faces of those sharing dinner with him. Darion, even a week after Halsam’s detainment at the Chreba Police Station, was still highly annoyed. His mood tended to make the mealtime atmosphere an uncomfortable one, with Halsam avoiding his unforgiving eyes. And while Tolrek could understand that Darion’s reaction was out of embarrassment about what had happened, he was hoping the relaxed nature of the household would soon return.
“Darion,” Tolrek said, by way of breaking the silence, “Can I have more materials?”
“For what?” Darion asked, his voice sharp.
“For another Krezka Unit,” Tolrek responded, after looking at him pointedly. Darion smiled, a wordless acknowledgment that his tone had been unfairly harsh.
“I’ll have more parts delivered within the week. How many units have you built so far?”
“I’d like to start the second one as soon as I can. I hope to do another six.”
“I saw some of the Krezkas before,” Halsam chimed. “My father took me to the Margrove Proving Ground as a special surprise. He’s an engineer for the government and can get access to all kinds of equipment. He said…said…”
Halsam faltered when Darion gave him a scathing look. The servant quickly focused on his meal, remembering that Darion’s preference was for him to remain silent.
“We’ll continue this conversation later, Tolrek,” Darion said. “You know, the materials aren’t cheap; I didn’t originally intend to keep buying them.”
The comment bothered Tolrek and he responded with his trademark sarcasm.
“It’s the least you can do after stealing my freedom. It’s not like you can’t afford it. Or, are we suddenly in danger of having the lights shut off?”
Arjan and Halsam chuckled. Darion slammed down his utensils and got up, looming over Tolrek. The rebel looked at him, unaffected. Darion let out a huff of anger and then walked away, leaving the trio to stare after him.
“He’s holding on to his anger too long,” Arjan said. “It’s beginning to taint everything.”
“Maybe he feels guilty,” Halsam mused.
“About what?” Tolrek asked, sensing there was something he needed to know.
“Shut up, Halsam,” Arjan ordered. The young servant looked down at his plate and kept quiet.
“What’s really going on?” Tolrek demanded, his tone sharp.
“That’s up to Darion to tell you,” Arjan responded. “Halsam and I are staying out of it.”
Tolrek was preparing to build the second Krezka replica when Halsam asked if he could join him.
“Why?” Tolrek asked.
“Because what you’re doing is interesting. Maybe I can help…Please.”
“Okay, but don’t damage anything.”
Settled among the materials Darion had recently purchased for him, Tolrek showed Halsam the plans for the newest unit. It was the model of Zan Hilo, The Jester. Mado Kahn, Tolrek’s best friend who he’d met at the academy, had piloted The Jester before the rebellion. The nickname for it was representative of his friend’s personality. Mado was playful and enjoyed a great joke, often pulling pranks on his colleagues. However, when it mattered, he was dependable, knowing when it was time to become serious. He was one of the few individuals Tolrek trusted with his life.
Tolrek wondered what Mado was doing now. Wherever he was, Tolrek hoped he had kept his optimism and his playfulness. He was thinking about some of Mado’s best pranks when Halsam interrupted his thoughts.
“Tell me more about the Krezkas,” the young man said.
Glad to show his expertise, Tolrek began his explanation.
“The Krezka Unit is the military battle gear that was commissioned by former VSB Director Halsam A. Krezka—”
“Yes, my parents named me after him. Oh, sorry, continue.”
Tolrek explained that Krezka saw that the usual mechas Vaironia was using lacked maneuverability. The director had ordered the creation of a more advanced mecha, which were specifically designed to be piloted by an elite force of 12,000 pilots.
“There were eight pilot captains, with five lieutenants under them,” Tolrek told Halsam. “To qualify to be a Krezka Pilot-Captain, a candidate went through 2 years of intense training, in addition to the usual 6 years at Delcam Military Academy. Overtime, I became the captain for the most skilled group of fighters, which had 500 members. Then I was promoted to command all of the Krezka pilots…” Tolrek’s voice trailed off. Visions of his previous life came to him, the prestige and freedom he had contrasted with his current situation. “Halsam, you know what, I can’t think about that part of my life.”
“I liked listening,” Halsam assured him, his voice earnest. “I want to hear more.”
“Some other time, I’ll tell you about the hell I endured, especially being the youngest recruit the academy has ever had.”
Halsam nodded and smiled, looking forward to the stories. The two worked to take inventory of the parts they had for the second Krezka. Then they began the rudimentary assembling of one leg of the unit.
Tolrek admitted being impressed with Halsam’s ability to be so helpful. The servant, encouraged by the rebel’s compliment, asked to be part of the rest of the process.
“If Darion buys me what I need, you can,” Tolrek promised.
Tolrek and Halsam worked side by side for almost three hours, chatting idly. Then, Tolrek called a halt to the project for the time being, as it was almost two in the morning. They were leaving the room when Halsam touched Tolrek’s arm to stop him.
“Can I really keep helping you?” Halsam asked, shyly.
“Yes,” Tolrek told him, laughingly softly. “I meant it.”
Halsam was glad for the camaraderie they shared over the next few days, and, without being prompted, he told Tolrek what had caused the arrest. They were constructing the arm of the latest Krezka when Halsam began speaking.
“Rell Fein was playing a video with you in it all night,” he said. “Rell’s a Pet who has a club because his owner, Eian Huso, lets him do just about anyth—”
“Halsam, skip that part of the story,” Tolrek said.
“Yes, sorry. Well, some of the people who were watching the video, they…I didn’t like what they were saying about you. So I ended up starting a fight. You know what happened from there.”
“What exactly is on the video?” He was mindful to keep his voice calm. He didn’t want to intimidate Halsam and cause the wary servant to distance himself from him. Even now, the young man was leaning away from Tolrek, looking reluctantly to continue.
“It’s easier to show you.” Halsam said after a long pause. He began to blush as the images played through his head. “I can’t properly describe it.”
“What is it?” Tolrek pressed.
“The video shows you and Darion together.” Halsam’s face became a deeper red.
“So it’s Darion and I having sex.”
“And…and other things.”
“Like what?” Tolrek clipped out, his patience disappearing.
Halsam flinched and a moan of pain escaped him. It was only then that Tolrek realized he had latched on to the servant’s shoulder, fiercely gripping it. He let go and apologized.
“You’ll find out soon,” Halsam told him. “I’ll get the file.”
“Then make it happen.”
“You have to promise that you won’t do anything stupid,” Halsam warned. He went to the viewing console in the room. He turned it on and went to a website. “Rell restricted it. I was able to get the special code because—”
“Halsam!” Tolrek snapped, annoyed with his chatter.
“Sorry,” the servant whispered.
A chime alerted them that the video file had finished downloading.
“Actually, Halsam, I’d like to watch this alone,” Tolrek said.
“I understand. You can even see it in your room, if you’d prefer,” Halsam told him. “Once a file is downloaded, unless Darion blocks access to it, it can be watched in any room.” Tolrek nodded and excused himself.
For the next hour and a half, Tolrek watched image after image of himself, reliving so many moments. He fumed over how some of his most humiliating experiences with Darion were paraded on film.
In the video, Darion was giving an account of his first few months with Tolrek. A small box in one corner of the screen showed the negotiator sitting in his favorite arm chair in the study. His body posed in a casual arrogant manner, he presented himself as if he were the lord of an empire. He was narrating, the rich timbre of his voice increasing the sensuality of the footage, while the rest of the screen was filled with the scenes of Tolrek’s subjugation.
“Tolrek was wild, as expected. I decided there would be one room where I’d administer punishments to him. I didn’t like the idea of having sex with him in the same room where I punished him. I’m unsure about why, after all, I do own him. I’m still dipping into those reasons. At any rate, here are some scenes from one of his many trips to the Punishment Room. As you can see, he’s an excellent specimen.”
As Tolrek viewed his whipping, sharp pains went through his back, buttocks and thighs as his body remembered the lashes. The next part of the feature didn’t help his discomfort.
“This whip is the pride of my purchases and it is a technological marvel,” Darion continued, now putting a chilling implement on display. “It splits off into five sections. Each end has two metal globes. As you can imagine, it’s quite painful for the person who is being punished, especially since the globes heat up when they come in contact with skin.”
A demonstration of Lang Keller using the whip appeared on the screen. He was the apparatus’ creator and owner of Carnal Marvels, an establishment for only the boldest individuals.
“Well, I suppose the whip’s something to keep in my arsenal,” Darion mused, chuckling softly. “I admit that, deep down inside of me, something is just waiting to use it. Knowing Tolrek, sooner or later, he’s going to give me the perfect opportunity. But at this point, I’ll lighten the mood a little. Here, Tolrek bit me.” Darion laughed softly. “I thought he was above that but apparently not. I was having him sit at my feet so I could feed him, reinforcing his position. I gave him a good smack for his action and you can see from the look on his face that he wasn’t too happy.
“Now, the next thing I had to do was have him around others, besides my servants, Halsam and Arjan. So, Makdan, who has never liked the idea of me acquiring Tolrek, agreed to be my first guest after Tolrek came to my home. Mak was over for dinner one night. I thought it would be smart to show Tolrek off. However, he soon proved me wrong, much to my embarrassment—and Makdan’s.
“Mak got a little too close to the rebel, who ended up twisting my friend’s left wrist and wrenching his arm behind his back. While Tolrek was wrong, the look on Makdan’s face was priceless. I once again would like to apologize to Makdan, who is, as you all know, one of Vaironia’s most highly celebrated musicians. Of course, he will probably be displeased with me, since his humiliation is on film. Then again, he did dare me to show how in control I am of Tolrek. I think the video covers things nicely.”
“At any rate, naturally, I had to address Tolrek’s actions. To his credit, he didn’t try to run from his punishment. He didn’t even make a sound as I rained down 15 lashes on his body with my left hand or when I did another 15 with my right. You know, I was aware of my sadistic side but something about the rebel just makes it come out and play more than ever.”
The image of Darion sitting nonchalantly in a chair filled the entire screen for a few moments. A teasing smile appeared on his face as a lush, intense, seductive melody began to play.
“Well, I know you’re all waiting for the highlight of the video…sex with Tolrek. This is just one of our many sessions.”
The smile turned into a lecherous grin and, despite his increasing fury, Tolrek felt his cock jump. The look on Darion’s face, coupled with his brash display of owning Tolrek, was having an effect on the rebel that he was trying to fight. It was proving to be quite futile as he now watched Darion stand behind his blindfolded, chained, naked form.
In the video, the negotiator was running each of his large hands down Tolrek’s back and buttocks, as he kissed the rebel’s neck. Darion slipped a suppository for lubrication into Tolrek, the capsule quickly dissolving from the heat of Tolrek’s body.
Tolrek’s cock was already fully hardened, begging for Darion’s attention. Darion’s hands circled around to the rebel’s crotch, gripping him firmly and masterfully handling him. Tolrek’s release was strong, exiting his body and landing on Darion’s hand. He eagerly consumed the evidence of his pleasure when Darion brought it to his mouth.
“Do you want me inside you?” Darion whispered.
The rebel swallowed and nodded. He shuddered when he heard the unmistakable sound of the negotiator unzipping his meticulously tailored pants. Tolrek didn’t have long to wait to get what he desired. Darion arranged him precisely for possession and then entering him from behind. Darion looked down, relishing the sight of Tolrek’s recently whipped ass; the crimson marks were a testament to the negotiator’s enthusiasm.
Darion pushed vigorously into Tolrek, setting a steady rhythm. Though he wanted to, Tolrek was prevented from touching Darion and his evident frustration about this limitation only made the negotiator laugh. The laughter soon turned to a deep moan as Darion’s body responded to the rich stimulation. He wrapped his arms around Tolrek, both he and his Pet coming at the same time. A close up of Tolrek, still reeling from a second orgasm, was an additional treat for the audience.
The screen once again showed Darion’s face.
“And that is just a taste of how you enjoy a rebel. Before I’m flooded with requests, no, I’m not sharing.”
The screen faded to black.
Tolrek sat there, his anger slowly rising, Darion’s last words playing over and over in his head. The rebel looked at the clock, willing the hour to arrive when Darion would return.
Tolrek didn’t have to say anything. The moment Darion saw the fury on the rebel’s face, he knew what had been the cause. Darion led Tolrek to his study, closing the door, wanting to keep the explosion as private as possible.
“Tol, listen, it’s not what you think,” Darion began earnestly.
“Don’t call me Tol, as if you care about me. I’m Pet A-21. Better yet, address me by my proper title, Captain Tolrek Marou.”
“It’s just like you to try to dictate terms, even when you don’t have the upper hand,” Darion snapped, Tolrek’s coldness stinging him.
“Oh, I don’t have the upper hand? Really? You know you were wrong. That’s why you’ve been acting so strange lately, staying upset at Halsam, not able to have sex with me. Well, you deserve to feel like that…Why did you have to do it, Darion? Did your half-breed status make it too hard to get the attention you craved?”
“Half-breed status?” Darion sucked in air at the insult.
“Oh, you’re trying to forget that you’re Vaironian and Tildari!”
“Why did you call me a half-breed?”
“Oh, did that hurt? Did you feel like less of a person?”
The two stared at each other, unsure what to say. Tolrek wanted Darion to apologize for the publicized humiliation but the negotiator stood there, stubbornly glaring at the rebel. It was rare for Tolrek to want an apology. However, Darion’s action had surprised him, shaking him to his core.
He played through all the times he’d shared a bed with Darion, the times they’d lingered in the bath hall, teasing each other, having sex that caused muscles he didn’t know he had to ache. Now, he felt betrayed.
He felt as if he’d betrayed himself. He’d allowed himself to get distracted. He’d forgotten the reasons he’d rebelled. He’d let down the pilots who had fought alongside him, the ones who had lost their lives, those who had seen their families rounded up like the lowest of animals. He’d pushed all of that away, living in luxury, downplaying his Pet status as if it wasn’t disrespectful for someone of his rank, an elite fighter, to be treated in this fashion.
The feeling of loathing grew, manifesting itself into vicious bile that mixed with the contents of his perfectly prepared dinner, right down to his favorite cake for dessert. He started to run from the room, wanting to avoid the shame of vomiting, like he had when he’d first killed an enemy. He was dizzy, the reality of his situation closing around him, mixing with an assault of negative memories.
As Tolrek lost his bearings, he careened close to a delicate vase that was three feet tall. It fell over, crashing against a nearby bookshelf and breaking into numerous pieces. He did his best to avoid falling on the largest and most dangerous parts of the vase. And he was almost successful. Almost. He landed on a large jagged portion, slashing open his left forearm from his wrist to his elbow.
“Tolrek!” Darion exclaimed, hurrying to him.
When Tolrek felt Darion touching him, he lashed out, punching the negotiator in his jaw. Tolrek’s laughter at Darion’s surprise was cut off when the vomit he’d been trying so hard to keep inside exited his body, most of it coating Darion’s shirt.