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-- The governor is irritated at me and, frankly, I can't blame him.

Merron appeared rather displeased himself. The panther stared with his black arms crossed over his red linen tunic, but not for long. The Bonehead chief gestured emphatically when he spoke; he couldn't help it. Gath listened politely. As an auxiliary leader, the gator had a special relationship with his chief. Like most auxiliaries, Gath and his people resented having been more or less forcefully conscripted into the Outsider's army by the unified Boneheads, but where most auxiliaries were treated contemptuously by the chiefs they'd been assigned to support in battle, Merron had always shown respect to Gath and his brothers. Of course, the river reptile wasn't naïve enough to believe that this consideration was without a more practical reason. Merron's clan was small and weak, while Gath was a member of one of the strongest and most successful of the river villages. Merron's clan contributed barely a fifth of the troops under his orders. The rest was filled with strong spear-wielding gators that felt little loyalty toward their Bonehead overlords, especially since the Blood Masks rebelled. Merron and Gath quite simply needed each other, which turned out to be a great context for setting up a relationship of mutual understanding.

"We really need you to make up your mind and pick something."

They resumed walking upon the ash-stained cobblestone of the streets of Cierra. The Great Blaze had devastated the city. Two thirds of the residential districts as well as the entire worker's district had disappeared in a few days of unmanageable inferno, but no area remained completely unaffected by the battles. Rebuilding had already begun, though.

The Lowlanders dodged a few homeless Southerners begging in the streets. They usually left Gath alone because he wore common brown civilian clothes that didn't project much wealth, but Merron's red linen baited them. Gath didn't like that place. He wanted the fighting in the East to end for good, so that he could return home.

-- I don't want anything.

The panther drew an X in the air with his hands, dismissing the protestation.

-- And I don't care. You're entitled to a share of the spoils. Don't you want your reward for everything you did? Your troops chose theirs.

-- I'm very aware, I signed their papers. It's good for them, but I'm not interested, unless I can convert-

-- For the last time, no, you can't convert your share into a reduction of your military duties. The Black King still requires your service! Besides, if you don't take a bit of land, or any tradeable goods, how will you live when this is truly over? Your wages will end if you leave.

A few light clouds hid the sun, but the day was warm and quiet, which certainly helped Gath put up with the chief's nonsense. The gator stopped near the blackened wall of a ruined building. Merron leaned against it, rubbing his right ear with a sigh, waiting for the retort.

-- I already have lands back home. I'll fish and hunt and be happy again.

-- So? Start a business here, or in the capital! Wherever, really. With the revenue, you won't even have to do that anymore. People are desperate. Labor is cheap. It's a good time to grab a bit of land and invest.

-- Why do you obstinately refuse to get it? I don't want to be stuck coming back here to manage anything. I want to leave.

Merron laughed.

-- I'm obstinate? I love that. Alright, take wine. We just seized a bunch of rich Tsam wine that we're slowly bringing back to the capital. Take your share in that, and you can bring it home eventually.

-- I like wine, but not that much.

-- Sell it!

-- How long will that take? I'll have to rent some space to store it, and then what? Will I travel from market to market with my wares? Will I put up a little stand right here?

Gath took three steps back, and mimicked a large rectangular area with his arms.

-- Hire someone to do it for you.

-- Great! Then I'll definitely have to stay here to watch him. You know what the worst part will be, though? If I take something, the kingdom won't owe me anymore, and they'll have no incentive to let me go.

Illumination filled the panther's face.

-- Aaaah. So that's why you're being so stubborn about this.

-- It's one of the reasons. Why does this bother the governor so much?

Merron darkened, embarrassed.

-- I guess it's time we talked about it. I haven't been entirely honest with you these last few days. When I saw Governor Meleth, recently, he said something, but I couldn't muster the courage to tell you.

Apparently, Merron still struggled with that, because he interrupted himself, and didn't continue. The reptile squinted.

-- I'm not going home, am I?

-- Nobody is.

Gath turned and pushed hard, hands flat against the wall. The scorched bricks, weakened by the heat, cracked threateningly.

-- Why not?

-- The king wants to keep the army mobilized even after the Tsam resistance ends. We'll stay spread around, charged with keeping the peace while some kind of large scale military construction project happens. I don't know what it is, but it sounds like we're already preparing for the next conflict. If you head home, it won't be for long.

-- With whom are we going to fight? The Black King will control the entire world.

-- The known world only. I'm guessing we're headed overseas.

-- A fleet. That's what we're constructing, then?

-- Probably.

Gath closed his eyes.

-- No one will survive this manacharian's lust for conquest.

-- Please don't say things like that. No one's happy about this. The campaign against the Blood Masks was already a serious blow to morale, which is why it's crucially important to keep the soldiers content in everything else, especially the auxiliaries. Do you see how our situation looks from the outside? It seems that I'm withholding the honor share of the spoils from one of the most important auxiliary leaders in the Black King's army, and that Governor Meleth is letting it happen! It's not reassuring at all. Please, just take something. For me.

Gath ceased challenging the wall with his impressive strength. He gave the chief a worn, disheartened look. The panther suddenly slapped his own thigh with a burst of enthusiasm.

"I know what! Slaves! You love slaves!"

Gath batted an eye.

-- What does that mean, I love slaves? I already have Lyal. I'm not starting a collection.

-- Why not? Some do. That might actually be fun! Besides, the kingdom caught so many of them, the markets are saturated. You could have your pick among the priciest ones. Those captured early on must be very well-trained, by now.

Merron put on a slimy, teasing grin.

"Unless you'd prefer something wild and vigorous... for playing rough."

And then he roared mockingly.

-- Well-

-- Perfect! Let's head to the market right away and check out the army's stock.

-- But I didn't...

Merron bolted away at such a brisk pace that the gator had to run after him. There was never any opportunity to refuse.

The pair made their way to the slave market, and plowed through the large outside area reserved for civilian property auctions and trade. Gath lagged behind, pouting. Merron had been correct; the place was packed. The omnipresent shouts of haggling buyers and sellers, and the uninterrupted movements of slaves shackled together and being presented one after the other on makeshift elevated platforms created a dreamlike impression of being stuck in the middle of a hurricane of chains and naked bodies. It wasn't uncomfortable at all, and despite his best efforts to remain annoyed, Gath soon found himself a little bit excited at the prospect of acquiring something. The activity was so intense that many of the cramped stages hosted two different auctions at the same time. Some sellers gave up finding a platform altogether, and harassed passersby in the middle of the crowd. Gath strode by a line of five Southerners, two males and three females. The canines were all linked, all restrained with their wrists bound together to their iron collars, like begging puppies. A tan male with pointy ears wore obvious marks of a beating over his face and rump, as well as an iron muzzle. Something in his low, hopeless eyes reminded Gath of his Lyal before he'd finally decided to buy him. As soon as Gath's gaze passed over the slaves, the merchant, a brownish wolf, pressed his assault.

-- Compliant Southerners here, sir! Families of traitorous rebels, not warriors! No discipline required! Purchase them and they will be at your command! They will do what you say, when you say!

Gath highly doubted that the tan one was so obedient, if he had to be beaten and muzzled before display, but it was no concern of his. Those were privately owned slaves. If he was to select one as his share of the spoils, he would have to choose among those owned by the army, stored inside the huge market buildings. The ones he was looking at were also much too cheap. Gath had no intention to end up feeding five more mouths, though the mere fantasy of returning to his lodgings with a harem of soft Southerners was arousing. Gath had a thing for them. He'd always enjoyed Lyal a lot. Perhaps another canine would do.

Perhaps not, he thought as he followed Merron further along a stage where two young tigers were exhibited kneeling wide open with their arms behind their heads. An old manacharian moved deftly between them, obviously experienced in the sale of ensouled stock. His scales and horns were rough and worn, just like his cunning smile. Next to his two last items, many more empty binds lay aligned on the wooden planks as a testament to his ability to find buyers for his merchandise. The desert lizard crouched at the edge of the stage, and addressed Gath with a mock whisper.

-- You, river brother. A healthy feline to warm up your cold blood at night? Raised in the marshlands, they know everything about serving their reptile masters. Good labor too. Isn't that right, boys?

Both tigers demonstrated their tameness when they threw a simultaneous "Yes, master." They returned to their silent posture. Gath continued to walk away, and the manacharian tried his luck with someone else. Gath could imagine clutching one of the striped orange cats in bed. He had no doubt it would be comfortable, but Lyal already did an astounding job of that. No slave would ever measure up to the docile tenderness of his black-furred cuddles, he was certain of that. He might as well search for contrast.

Merron had reached the tall pillars that supported the large building's entrance. He gestured for Gath to hurry up, and went inside, joining the flow of buyers moving in and out freely between the numerous columns. The gator pressed on with a grumble. He was much too bulky to slip between the market attendants as easily as his agile friend, and had to shove a few of them aside. None made any comment when they saw him. He reached the old yellowing pillar façade.

Next to the entrance, a short wall bore a series of high hooks. Undoubtedly, they'd been intended to tie up defiant slaves in the sun as a punishment, but an enterprising seller used them to show off a group of enraged manacharian females, stripped and struggling against their gags. The colorful lizards fought the bondage, attempting to unhook their wrists, and twisting their knees in a fruitless attempt to hide their sex. Their slick scales gleamed in the sun. The Bonehead lioness faced away toward the crowd, but she shouted loud enough to be heard.

-- Freshly caught Blood Mask rebels for you to break! See the conquerors humbled before you! Cheap prices!

"Rebel" was the new buzzword, apparently, Gath noticed. Everyone who resisted the Black King's inexorable advance were labeled as such, and ended up killed or enslaved. Southerners sold Southerners, manacharians sold marsh dwellers, and Bonehead felines sold their manacharian brethren. It was chaos. The Outsider had truly brought the taste of war to the entire continent. Gath had mixed feelings about this. Growing up in the Lowlands, he was no stranger to the costs of armed conflict. He happened to be on the winning side this time, but it could've gone the other way. It would've been him, then, standing in chains on a stage, ogled at while his price was decided. The river reptile didn't enjoy needless violence. Then again, the fact that the rest of the world now experienced the humiliation that his kind had suffered when the Blood Masks forced them to join the Black King's army filled him with a sense of bittersweet justice. That the Masks themselves had been destroyed by their own creation was... even better.

Besides, it did provide him with a wider variety of slaves to buy. That was somewhat neat.

Gath crossed under the columns. They were dominating. They were meant to be. Even before the Lowlander invasion, the Cierra slave market had to be thriving. Merron waited further inside. The reptile joined him. All of the market buildings had been seized by the army at the fall of the city. The kingdom also occasionally sold to private citizens, but at a much higher rate; the primary function of this place was to house and train expansive slaves to grant the soldiers as their shares of the spoils. As a result, the inside was much less crowded. The entrance led in three directions: the east and west wings of the market, which formed together a massive rectangle, and the inner courtyard, where slave exhibitions and obedience competitions were occasionally hosted. Gath followed Merron to a low counter in the center of the hall. An exotic-looking Southerner greeted them warmly. She had pristine white fur covered in strange round dark-brown spots, very short fur, and thin, forward-folding ears. Gath had never seen anything like it, and was quite impressed. She sat straight, and arranged her colorful slave garb.

-- Welcome, masters. May I offer you directions to somewhere?

The panther leaned over the counter on one hand.

-- He's looking to buy. He hasn't claimed his honor share yet.

She turned to Gath.

-- Of course. Are you a Black Guard?

Gath shook his head.

-- Auxiliary.

-- Oh. In this case, you are free to browse, but I should warn you that you will need written statements from both your clan's leader and the commander of your assigned forces to confirm any purchase.

Merron waved his hand nonchalantly.

-- He's the leader, and I'm his direct military superior and commander. That good enough for you?

-- Absolutely, my masters. I apologize profusely. Did you already know what you were interested in acquiring? Is it for labor or household use?

Merron stared at Gath, raising his brows.

-- Household, said the gator.

-- In this case, the east wing should contain items more appropriate to your needs. Was there anything else I can help you with?

Gath cocked his head.

-- Where are you from?

The slave attendant blushed a bit through her fur. Merron snickered.

-- Come on, he said, slapping the scaly shoulder. She's obviously not for sale.

-- I was just curious.

-- Yeah, yeah.

The Bonehead chief grabbed Gath's arm and carried him away eastward through a short passageway. Or, more explicitly, Gath allowed himself to be carried. Even three of Merron would be unable to budge the heavy river reptile against his will.

"I know exactly why you liked her."

-- Why?

-- She looked just like Lyal.

Huh. He was right, Gath realized. Similar well-defined outline, same short fur, same folded, tapering ears.

-- Except for the coat.

-- Yes, except for the coat.

-- I thought it was rather nice.

The feline shrugged.

-- If they're showing her off at the entrance, they might have more like her. We can look.

-- Alright.

The atmosphere in the east wing was utterly different from the one in the courtyard. Spacious hallways were filled with large cages containing single specimens. Everything was proper and orderly, and the market employees outnumbered the clients. The Black Guards were in charge of slave distribution, and it showed. Many steps further, a couple of distinguished-looking Southern lord and lady were perusing some of the goods with a seller accompanying them. Another seller began to make his way to Merron when the latter beckoned.

Gath approached the nearest cage. They were all similar and quite tall; even the gator could've stood and even jumped in them. This one housed a sleepy snow fox -- probably from one of the colder western provinces. As soon as he realized he was being examined, he got up from his blanket that covered a small bundle of straw. With a worried air, he approached the bars and went low on his belly, all four paws withdrawn under him. He stared at Gath expectantly. The reptile took the first piece of hand-written parchment held up by a wooden lectern in front of the cage.

-- By my brothers!

Gath showed the price to Merron. The panther nodded knowingly.

-- That's the civilian charge. You'd get him at a severe discount as part of your spoils.

-- Indeed!

The seller had arrived. The overenthusiastic lynx opened his arms wide and clenched his hands together as welcome.

"I take it you fine sirs are loyal warriors of the realm? This Southerner is a fine piece. He is silent and well-mannered, an impressive choice for receiving guests, but perhaps a tad much for general household maintenance. There are cheaper options."

Gath knelt near the cage, and put his open hand through the bars.

-- Muzzle.

The small canine compliantly placed his chin into the strong palm. He closed his eyes when Gath stroked the side of his snout with his thumb, whispering reassuring words like: "it's okay" and "you're doing fine".

-- Are you an experienced owner, then? asked the seller.

-- Very, responded Merron. His family owns over twenty slaves that I know of, back in the Lowlands. He was raised among them. When I was a kid, we used to be terrified of being captured in their raids.

Gath stood up. The fox motioned to follow his hand when he withdrew it.

-- We had much more than twenty working in the fields further down the river. That was before the Masks seized most of them.

The lynx put on an empathetic air.

-- A terrible period for all involved, I heard. Personally, I was spared this, for my parents fled to the South at the onset of the Unification wars. I was too young to remember any of it.

Gath hummed a non-response, and moved to the next cage. The fox slave seemed heartbroken, and returned to his blanket.

Behind the bars lay a river reptile. Her scales seemed dull and dry. Her eyes were open, but she stared at nothing.

-- Let's keep going, immediately proposed an anxious Merron.

-- Why? Your friend might be interested in a female of his own kind.

-- I highly doubt that, warned the Bonehead chief.

Refusing to be discouraged, the salesman stepped into Gath's field of view.

-- This one is gentle, very passive. She used to be a Blood Mask slave. She would make for a submissive concubine.

The lynx failed to notice Merron's frenetic gestures recommending for him to shut up. The panther sighed as the inevitable happened. He moved in front of the lectern for that cage, and began to read while Gath gripped the back of the seller's head, and wedged his face between the bars.

-- Do you see her moving? Being afraid? Caring about anything going on around her? Blinking, even? That's not passive, that's depressed. She'll be unstable, dangerous for herself and her buyer, and if she wasn't a Blood Mask loyalist, she shouldn't even be there in the first place. I would never buy a sister except to set her loose on her captors, and shred them into fleshy, bloody strips.

Gath let go of the terrified feline, still seething. The lynx rubbed his short muzzle with both hands.

-- Oh. Um, I...

Merron took one of the parchments from the stand, and kept reading it.

-- I'm reading the master trainer's note right now. It seems that he agrees with my friend's assessment. He recommends that her price be lowered, and that she be sheltered from display, to be sold only to an experienced master who understands how to deal with damaged slaves.

-- Um, yes. Of course! That's what we will do, then. Perhaps we should move on.

Gath continued to growl angrily. Merron put the parchment back where it was.

-- Perhaps, yes. Now. Right now.

The grouped moved to the next cage. The salesman adopted his helpful attitude again, but he remained further from Gath.

-- Now, this one is a little bit strange. He's been with us for over a year...

The slave in question was a Tsam. It was a splendid buck, really, with a pale reddish brown coat and milky white sharply-defined chest fur. Semi-long, straight branching antlers rose nobly from his head. He seemed peaceful, as if in meditation or prayer. He knelt with his legs closed, in the center of his cage, eyes shut. He opened one briefly, saw his visitors, and bowed his head once in salutation.

"... we can't seem to get rid of him, not that he's a bad-looking fellow, as I'm sure you'll agree."

-- Curious attitude, commented Merron. He doesn't seem interested in us at all.

Gath approached. He tapped the bars with his knuckle.

-- Hey.

The deer opened his eyes again and stared back with interest, but when nothing happened, he straightened his head and returned to his immobility.

"Strange indeed," said Gath.

-- Most appear to find him off-putting, complained the lynx. It's known that Tsam make bad slaves.

-- It could be a problem about the price, too, said the reptile when he saw the number on the parchment.

-- I agree! But our master trainer assures us that he's already criminally undervalued.

Merron glanced at the parchment, and whistled.

-- At this price? What does he do? Is he a mender? Does he know how to unlock the Silvergate?

They laughed. Gath searched to find the master trainer's note. He read it.

-- Apparently he's trained in a bunch of household-related skills, smart, healthy, a quick learner, flawlessly obedient, pleasing to interact with...

-- Pleasing to interact with? repeated Merron. What does that even mean?

-- ... and extremely sexually submissive.

-- Ah.

The seller made a face.

-- Then again, all of our slaves in this wing are docile in that manner.

-- Yeah, agreed the panther. I don't see much to indicate that any of this is accurate.

Gath couldn't disagree. Merron headed further into the hallway.

-- Let's keep moving.

They kept browsing for hours, but Gath was a tough case. He saw dozens upon dozens of captives, all of them desperate to please. Canine Southerners dropped and whined at a flick of his fingers; Bonehead felines stood and exposed their most intimate attributes, promising to be humble and serviceable; manacharian reptiles called him dominator, and swore unquestioning obedience to him, and destruction to his enemies. It was never good for a market slave to remain unsold, of course, but Merron and the seller were impressed by their behavior toward Gath. They all seemed to know, instinctively, that he was _the_master to have. He observed them carefully, tested them with an order or a question, and rejected them all. Too boring, too frenetic, too cold, too common. Eventually, the salesman ceased describing the merchandise when it became clear that Gath required no help whatsoever to evaluate it and make up his mind. They even found another dotted canine, a male, this time. He seemed sweet, and proved totally willing to crawl at Gath's feet. Merron was convinced his partner would spring for it, but the reptile passed.

In fact, during this whole time, Gath kept thinking about that one strange Tsam stag. He could still see his firm body, his short white tail, his detached attitude, but also the warm, inquisitive glance he'd offered when Gath tried to catch his attention. He remembered what the note said about his training.

Gath stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of a corridor leading to the one last area with cages they hadn't seen yet. His two accompanying felines spun their heads to him.

-- I want to meet the master trainer.

The room the lynx led them to wasn't technically meant for prospective buyers, but there wasn't any rule against them being there. It was a square area, the center of which was enclosed by a waist-high rope fence. Two guards wearing tunics with black shield insignias waited by the fence. The central delimited stage was slightly elevated, and built out of long and supple wooden planks, obviously meant to absorb shocks when training got rough.

The master trainer was busy.

The manacharian had only two long horns at the back of his head, and no facial horns at all, which was rare for those lizards. Depending on how the light played on his scales when he moved, they ranged from burgundy to brown. He wore no shirt, and dark linen pants rolled up to his knees. He wielded a medium-length, very heavy-looking whip that cracked with terrifying force when the trainer issued orders, but not once did the visitors actually see it touch any slave flesh. It would've caused great damage.

Two male slaves were in training. Both were from the Highlands. Tsam. Both stood tall, strong, and completely naked with their hands bound very strictly in their upper backs. The palomino horse and the white one glowered anxiously at their master, halfway between outrage and fearful surrender. The manacharian poked the white slave into his pectoral with a claw.

-- You're the sub.

He slapped the palomino's butt, and untied his arms.

"Get stiff."

The golden stallion lowered his head in shame, and resentfully took his large cock in his hand to stroke it. The one designated to sub exhibited more resistance. He remained motionless, defiant. It may have been unusual, since it caused the trainer to spin around, and to notice the trio of intruders straight away.

"What? You think they care? You think they have an opinion of you? Nobody forms a very high opinion of an object anyway."

The heavy whip thundered awfully close to the white, unprotected flesh.

"Sub!"

The second stallion flinched, and went down on his knees, bending over with his tail raised high. The whip cracked again near his face.

"What are you?"

-- An ass! I'm just an ass, master!

-- That's right.

The reptile coiled his whip around his fist, and pointed it to the first equine.

"Get to work, goldie, and don't let it go to your head. You'll get mounted next, and we'll see how proud you feel then."

The manacharian approached his visitors slowly while the muscular white ass was pounded in the background. He stopped at the rope.

"What can I do for you guys?"

-- Are you the master trainer? asked Gath.

The manacharian rubbed his hands together.

-- Yup.

-- I'm a buyer. I have a few questions.

The trainer nodded.

-- Shoot.

-- I saw a Tsam male, very highly recommended according to your notes. A little odd.

-- Yeah, I know the one. We don't have many Tsam on display.

Gath walked toward a corner of the square, and leaned over the wooden post that held the ropes.

-- I noticed. Why is that?

-- We're still receiving many each day. The rebellion is alive in the Highlands. Most are still in training, like these two. Tsam are difficult, and take a while to break properly.

-- So you agree that they make bad slaves?

The master trainer crossed his arms, squinting.

-- Well... no, but I understand where that belief comes from. Tsam slaves are like manacharians: they're very proud. We have that cultural warrior ideal where we think of ourselves as big bad conquerors. It's particularly prevalent among us males. It's a bit different with the Tsam, they have more of a feeling of racial superiority, you know? Like they're just born better, or maybe it's a religious thing, I don't know. Anyhow, they all have this high opinion of themselves. They all feel important and unique. They can get very nasty, and they don't break easy.

-- But they do?

The red-scaled manacharian let loose a passionate chuckle.

-- Hell yeah, and when it's done properly, you can tell.

-- How so?

-- They're all different individuals, naturally, but just like manacharians tend to transfer their conqueror-worship thing to their masters, Tsam keep a bit of their cultural notions as well. Commerce is sacred to them, you know? They think working hard and contributing to the Tsam society is what gets them peace after they die. They want to be useful, and they don't give up the notion that they're the very best, so when you finally manage to drill into their heads that they're your property...

-- They strive to be perfect slaves?

The master trainer snapped his fingers.

-- Boom, just like that. Can't seem to bear the notion that they might be just ordinary slaves. Hey! No, no. No!

The desert reptile marched angrily to his stallions, and talked to them.

"... Yeah, like that. Wave it. Doesn't matter what you feel about it. There's no you! You please master, and that's final. When he comes, you thank him, cause what if he doesn't bother to play around with you, hmm? You're worthless, then, and worthless slaves don't last."

He also walked behind the palomino, and pulled hard on his mane while he kept sodomizing the sub.

"And you, goldie, you're supposed to be a master having fun! Help him figure it out! Grapple with him, touch him, smack him! Make him bend and howl! Shove harder! If you can't play the top, then you'll be sub _all the time._Got it? Make him yours. Go for your fantasies, he won't take it easy when it's your turn, slave."

The trainer joined Gath and his group again, as the chastised horses increased their efforts, and chafed their bare fleshes harder together in a sweaty marble of gold and white.

"Amusing, aren't they? Been working on them for a spell, but they're still not nearly good enough. Tsam are too disorganized to make good soldiers, but when they lose, they're fun to tame! These two just happened to be from the same cohort. They knew each other! Boy, when I realized that you bet if I didn't-"

Gath interrupted him.

-- About that stag.

-- Oh, yes, him. Can't recommend him highly enough. I'd buy him myself if that didn't look oh-so-bad on us trainers. I sure hope we won't end up putting him down or selling him to some cheap whorehouse. That'd be a damn shame. His uncle was an Eminent, this one. You know about them? Tsam leaders, elected according to wealth. He must've seen more money in a day than I will in my entire life! Yet he ended up on the wrong side of my whip. Fate's funny that way. Ha! A young rich Tsam noble! The first thing I always do when I start is that I make them lick my boot. You can guess if he took offense to that! He gave me a load of work, but he needed more time than pain, in truth. He's very sharp. Very alive.

-- He didn't appear that way to us, objected Merron.

-- Yeah, he'll fool you. I told him many times about his attitude, but he disagreed.

Gath frowned.

-- He disagreed? Aren't you the master trainer, and him the slave?

The manacharian smiled sheepishly with a shrug.

-- He makes a persuasive case.

Merron and the seller waited behind near the east wing entrance while Gath stopped by the buck's cage for the second time. He had changed position; he sat in the back of the cage, against the bars. He followed the gator's approach.

-- Stand up, slave.

Gath was almost surprised when the stag complied and stood, showing his dreamy body and cute penis.

"Aren't you afraid?"

The slave kept up the eye contact with no trouble.

-- Afraid of what, sir?

He said "sir" and not "master".

-- Do you want to be bought, or not?

The buck stepped forward.

-- Yes, sir, very much so.

-- Then why are you insolent?

-- My trainer warned me that buyers might perceive my behavior that way, but I'm not trying to be.

-- What are you trying to be?

-- Elegant. I thought it would be attractive to some. It brought you back, sir.

-- "Master," not "sir".

-- I'm not your property, yet, master, but I will call you so if you wish it. I merely want to please you, though I admit my method is unconventional.

Gath scratched the side of his maw, pondering what he was witnessing.

-- Too haughty.

The Tsam was wholly unshaken.

-- Do you wish me to humiliate myself for you, master?

The absolute balls! The master trainer was right. This was a fascinating slave.

-- I want proof that you are able to get over your pride.

-- I have no pride, master.

Gath grinned widely.

-- Liar.

An air of shock and embarrassment formed upon the slave's face. He lowered his nose and examined the floor at his cloven hooves.

-- I've watched you browse, master. You're not looking for fear, or passivity. You want obedience. Command me. Test me.

Gath put on a hard, judging air.

-- Exhibit what I'd pay for, slave. Sell yourself.

The stag adopted a classic display stance, legs a tad wider than his shoulders, and arms up behind his head. He revolved very slowly, gracefully.

-- As you can see, I am healthy and young, master. I am fit to work, and docile for service. I can clean and cook, and perform maintenance repairs on clothes and armor, but I am also good company. I would make for an excellent pet, if you wished. I take orders, and I tolerate any kind of restraints. I can be silent, and I don't move much at night. I am very warm under covers; I know this is a matter of importance for reptiles.

The stag continued his lengthy rotation. He faced sideways, and was beginning to expose his back. His white tail rose over his round rump.

"I am trained as an intimate companion. I can pleasure you sexually in various positions in bed or elsewhere. You will find that I am flexible and receptive anally or orally, but I am dexterous as well and able to give, if that would please you. I have a vigorous body that provides ample grip..."

The stag's thighs quivered momentarily.

"... and I don't complain about rough or degrading sexual usage, unless that is something you would enjoy. You may name me, brand me or otherwise modify me at your leisure, and I will remain fully subservient. I will only give my opinion about potential changes if you ask for it."

The Tsam finished spinning around. He smirked with a head tilt, more playful.

"I'm generally enthusiastic."

Gath succeeded in resuming breathing. He needed that stag, but he managed to keep cool.

-- Come closer.

The slave went to the bars. He was near enough to irradiate warmth.

"Face away, and bend."

The buck did as he was told, and Gath spat directly onto his tight anus.

"Finger yourself."

-- Immediately, master.

Gath watched the submissive thing stretch wide and angle himself to the side, so that his hand wouldn't obstruct the reptile's view too much. That attention to detail was delightful. The hoofed fingers massaged the hole, and spread the spit briefly, before the index slipped in repeatedly.

-- Two fingers.

-- Yes, master.

The middle finger entered the ring. Gath let the tame Tsam finger his ass, curved and submissive. The buck gradually became erect. Out of nowhere, he spoke softly, pathetic.

"Please, master. Take me with you. I want a home."

In the bright streets of Cierra, Merron, satisfied that his political problem had been resolved, split from Gath and his new acquisition happy and serene; buying that overpriced buck had used the reptile's entire share of the spoils. The seller had even thrown in the basics: collar, shackles and leash, not that the slave appeared to require them. He clopped behind Gath humbly. He did seem coyer about being led nude and bound like any ordinary slave. He might also understandably be nervous about the drastic change in his existence. One way or the other, he didn't allow it to jeopardize his performance. He walked when Gath walked, and stood patiently when Gath stood, regardless of how many citizens gawked at his pristine body.

When his master paused in front of a large square house stretched over a single floor, the buck leaned ever so slightly to him. When he breathed, his chest brushed the reptile's arm. The gator kept in place for a few extra seconds.

-- This is home, for a time.

The Tsam immediately began to take in the surroundings with a much amplified interest. Gath had been relatively surprised too, when he first learned that he would live in that cushy district, filled with old and wealthy villas that had grown somewhat cramped against each other as the city's elite increased in numbers. Gath might be an auxiliary, but he was a big one. He was only starting to grasp how important he was to the Black King's army. Other auxiliary leaders looked up to him. He scraped his tongue against the roof of his maw, to remove the bitter, dishonorable taste of politics. How much he benefitted from it made it even worse.

"Come inside."

The clouds were moving away as the sun descended, keeping the afternoon warm in the central atrium.

"Kneel here."

The stag lowered himself as requested in the open, roofless area. Gath moved behind him and locked his leg shackles. Then, he fastened them to his wrists in a secure hog-tie. He didn't think the slave was faking his obedience, but he couldn't know for sure. Watching the handsome male at his feet, he couldn't resist, and pushed his shoulder blades gently with his boot until he tipped forward on his soft belly, hooves and hands held up helplessly in his back.

"Be patient. I shouldn't be long."

The buck wore an accepting look when he flattened his chin on the brick slabs. Gath left him, making his way to the master bedroom, east of the atrium, designed so that the rising sun in the morning would naturally wake the master of the household. The auxiliary chief pushed the door to enter very carefully, in case Lyal was asleep. He was.

The canine rested on his side, on top of a rectangular woven carpet by the side of Gath's bed. His thin ears lay unfolded over his head, and his muzzle was slightly open and moving as he dreamed peacefully. He'd used his arms as a pillow, but his knees weren't quite drawn enough to hide the shiny gold-trimmed steel ring and cage that trapped his sex and balls tightly for Gath to manage at his discretion. His thin, decorative collar was of the same quality of metalwork, also gold-trimmed steel. Both pieces contrasted with his naturally lusterless charcoal-colored fur. Only when he was under direct sunlight did a faint shade of blue emerge.

Gath neared and crouched next to him in silence. He'd expected Lyal to be asleep, because he'd told the poor thing to stay in his spot when he'd left in the morning to meet with Merron. Gath hadn't expected to be gone for almost the entire day. If he'd known, he wouldn't have made Lyal stay on his rug, but he was pleased that, as usual, he had complied submissively. The strong reptile woke him up with a light caress to the side of his face. Lyal opened his chestnut eyes, and swiftly turned to offer his vulnerable underside to his master. He squeaked happily when Gath kneaded the skin under his short dark belly fur. Gath let a bit of his satisfaction with his pet show, because Lyal loved to be a good boy, and Gath loved making his pup happy. He kept the rest to himself, because he didn't believe in over-rewarding slaves. It made them spoiled and less eager to please. Besides, he could still remember how Lyal was prior to his capture... He was much improved this way.

"Did you stay here all day?"

-- Just like you told me to, master.

It was obvious that he had no idea it'd been a mistake. He didn't need to know, either. Gath had trained and presented Lyal in obedience competitions before. It wasn't the first time he was made to obey strict, arbitrary commands.

Gath wasn't particularly hungry. As a cold-blooded creature, he could go lengthy periods without any food at all, but he knew that both of his slaves would be. Neither had eaten that day. He walked to the bedroom door. With two fingers, he gave a subtle tap to the side of his thigh, right above his knee. He left for the atrium, and soon heard his loyal property padding behind him. Lyal's chastity cage clicked faintly when he moved.

The kitchen was located on the west side of the villa, so that the early morning activity of servants wouldn't bother the sleeping masters. For Gath, it only meant that he had to stroll around a lot; those lodgings were much too large for him and one or two slaves, but he hadn't chosen this house. The army had given it to him.

The movements behind Gath ceased when they entered the atrium. The bound stag turned his head quietly toward them. Lyal was in shock. He detailed the new slave waiting under the afternoon sun without understanding. Gath whistled impatiently, and tapped his thigh again. Lyal knew his master didn't appreciate having to repeat his orders, so he broke the visual contact and caught up with him, but instead of following behind, he pressed himself under the reptile's arm, at his side. The gator allowed it, but made no attempt to explain. He needn't justify his actions to a slave. When they faced the kitchen door, he stopped, and scratched under Lyal's ears. The canine inclined his head into the pleasing touches.

-- I assume you're hungry.

-- Yes, master.

Gath indicated the door.

-- Whip something up for two. I'll nibble.

He glanced at the trussed up Tsam.

"Add lots of vegetables."

Lyal shook his head.

-- We won't have enough.

Gath nodded. That was to be expected. Lowlanders and Midlanders lived on similar diets of meat, bread, cheese, and more meat, if they could get their hands on it. They filled on bread, otherwise. This new Highlander slave would change some habits.

-- Get started, and compensate with... whatever we have, for now. I'll see if I can't find something at the market.

Lyal bowed his head, and quickly went to his task. Pensive, Gath turned around and approached his pathetically displayed stag, like a slab of meat. Lyal had always hated being immobilized, but this one didn't seem to mind it. His body appeared rather relaxed into the restraints. At worst, Gath thought he detected a hint of vexation, betrayed by his lower lip.

"You think this is excessive?"

The subtle pout disappeared.

-- Unnecessary, maybe, but that's for you to decide.

-- Master, added Gath as a correction.

-- Yes, master. I apologize.

The reptile patted the buck's rump, over the area where his milky fur met his brown coat, along the edge of the inside of his cheeks.

-- It's possible I might simply enjoy the fetching way you wear those binds.

-- Oh. Of course, master.

The Tsam was suddenly content, which confirmed Gath's impression. That slave didn't mind bondage at all. What bothered him was the idea that his master tied him up out of caution. For Gath, that was a flaw in his training, but not a very significant one. He could fix it readily.

-- That could've been the reason. But it wasn't.

He kept the appeasing hand on his buttocks, but took the slave's collar into a forceful grip with the other, wiping his grin.

"You may not like it, but you are a common slave. Your master's trust must be earned. You don't get to expect anything out of me. You don't deserve anything until I say you do. You're not special until I say you are. Clear?"

-- Yes, you-you're absolutely right, master. I'm so sorry.

-- Repeat it.

The deer's snout drooped to the floor.

-- I'm... a common slave, master. I'm common. I'm not special.

With a single claw, Gath brought the sad face up. He gave his buck a very faint grin, showing a couple of his terrible teeth.

-- You could be, though. Most of what I've seen of you so far is impressive. Keep making efforts, but stay in your place.

-- Yes, master!

-- You will need a name.

The lighting changed; a straggler cloud chased the others. The moment became more somber, and serious. The buck fell silent, waiting for this important event to happen. Gath untied his shackles.

"Up to your knees. What was the name given to your birth?"

-- Suyed, said the Tsam as he rose and meekly placed his hands behind his back.

-- Remember it, and remember that it's not yours anymore. It belonged to someone that's gone, and that won't come back.

The stag opined serenely with a bob of his head. That wasn't news to him. That notion was part of any slave's basic training. No return. Ever.

Gath stared at his slave, allowing instinctive impressions to fill him. Then, he closed his eyes. Health. Nature. A certain vital strength, but also... frailty? No. Suppleness. Adaptability. Grace, and sophistication. An image of how his thighs had quivered, like leaves in the rain.

Gath crossed his arms, stern, definitive.

"Leaf. That's your name."

Leaf bowed humbly until his nose poked the slabs.

-- Yes.

He closed his eyes in turn. The cloud moved away, and the sun shone.

"Leaf. That's me. Leaf is my name. Thank you, master."

-- My name is Gath, but you will continue to call me master.

-- May I call you Master Gath?

-- That would do, but it's a bit long, isn't it?

-- I won't do it all the time, my awesome Master Gath.

Leaf smiled teasingly.

-- Don't. I don't have a sense of humor.

The Tsam bowed again in acquiescence, but the way he squinted devilishly worried the gator. Obviously, the fact that his master didn't find his teasing amusing made it even better in his mind. Perhaps Leaf had _too much_vital spirit. Gath might have to rein it in. He'd wait and see.

When he brought Leaf with him to the kitchen, Lyal threw them a brief, but weird glance, before he shifted his attention to the strips of salted meat he was cutting. This was normal to the river reptile; they would all require some time to adjust. Behind Lyal, a pot was slowly coming to a boil with a weak fire under it.

"Leaf, this is Lyal. Lyal, Leaf. Lyal has been my property for many years, and I trust him. You understand what this means?"

Leaf bowed deeply in recognition of Lyal's seniority in this house. The dark canine acknowledged him with a curt nod.

"Can you cook?" asked Gath.

-- A little, master.

-- It doesn't matter. You'll learn. Lyal will show you. Do exactly what he tells you.

Gath directed his attention to Lyal.

"Naturally, watch him, and don't even let him get near the knives."

Now, that, Lyal approved.

-- He won't, master.

Lyal gazed rigidly at the stag.

"Stir the pot, and keep the fire stoked."

Lyal also approved of the way Leaf shamefully, but promptly harnessed himself with his simple, lowly tasks.

Gath stayed for a handful of seconds... if the hand was huge, and the seconds really tiny. He took in the view of his collared males, cooking together for him, nude, back to back. Both were slightly inclined forward; Lyal was busy with dicing and Leaf with swirling a wooden ladle. Their cute bums nearly rubbed together.

It was sooo close.

Gath thanked Merron in his heart. The Bonehead chief was a genius. He should have done that years ago.

-- I'll run to the market. Behave yourselves.

Gath left. All of a sudden, there was only the noise of boiling water, filling the air between Lyal and Leaf. The canine finished chopping the meat. He turned around with the board in hand.

-- Stand aside, he commanded.

Leaf stepped away obediently. While he did so, he couldn't help but peak at the small cage holding Lyal's male bits in check, and wonder if there was a specific reason for it, or if he would also eventually get one. Gath appeared to Leaf like the kind of person who did things with a purpose. Leaf wore fetters because he was the new slave, and would be restrained often until he demonstrated his fidelity. So, why the sex cage?

When the deer's eyes moved up, Lyal was staring angrily, daring him to make a comment, so he made sure to let his sight rest elsewhere. The Southerner slave held the chopping board over the pot.

"Can you eat meat?"

-- It's not ideal, the stag admitted.

-- That's not what I asked.

The canine remained immobile with the knife against the board, waiting.

-- My body tolerates it, yes...

With a dexterous knife movement, Lyal dumped the meat in the pot.

"... in small amounts."

-- You can leave the meaty bits.

Lyal placed the board on a counter, and reached for a sack of flour under it -- a heavy, large sack of flour that was difficult to grip. Lyal considered the sheepish buck. He pointed to the sack.

"Pick that up."

The pot boiled with increasing violence.

"Hurry."

Leaf donned an appeasing smile, and ducked under the counter. The flour was truly heavy, and there were multiple kitchen instruments in front of it, so it had to be lifted at arm's length. The stag curved further in, and wrestled with the bag, on his knees, while the dog watched from above. He pulled and huffed as he held the flour tightly against his chest, and bumped his antlers coming up, which could be quite hurtful to his skull. Once he lifted the sack of flour high enough that there was room for two to hold it, Lyal helped.

-- Thanks. I think I've got it, now. You know, you should really use a smaller jar for this, and refill it as needed.

Leaf was undeniably right. The only reasons Lyal had never done anything about it were that the humble slave avoided bothering his master with issues that concerned only him, and out of habit. Now that he had someone else's perception on it, though, Lyal could only concede that going through so much trouble almost every day was nonsensical. He also couldn't refrain from being irritated that Leaf was already rectifying the way he did things. He made a mental note to ask Gath to buy a jar.

-- Pour it in. I'll say when to stop.

Leaf remained stunned for a second or two, while the weight of the bag arched him backward, but in the end, he decided not to take offense at the refusal to even react to his good-willed comment. With some additional significant efforts, he carefully poured the flour in the pot. He let it flow slowly, and let it, and let it...

-- Um, isn't that going to be too thick?

Lyal responded with the Black Look of Shut Up.

"Alright," sighed the buck.

-- Now, stop.

Leaf straightened the flour bag.

"Put it back, and then you can keep stirring the stew."

Lyal turned and began to slice what little vegetables they had. The intensity of the boil heightened again. Leaf allowed himself a few short breaths for courage, and fell down to his knees again. His arms were too tired to hold the cursed sack far enough. He struggled, and eventually, his frustration was too much. He placed the flour down to the ground, removed the obstacles, slid the flour in place, and began to put back the kitchen apparatus. Lyal spun around then.

-- What are you doing? Idiot!

The pot boiled too hard, and the heavy stew overflowed, and began to catch fire.

"Ugh! I said to keep stirring!"

Lyal hurried, and put out the flaming stew with a rag, while he stirred with his other hand. Leaf, still on his knees, witnessed Lyal contain the situation, feeling clumsy and dumb.

-- Sorry! I was trying to put back-

-- If you're going to be a hindrance, then stay out of the way!

Still hot and strained from dealing with the flour, Leaf did find himself on the edge. He wanted to tell that dog that if he kept his kitchen better, and didn't insist on creating stupidly thick, flammable stews, this would've been avoided. Instead, he remembered his training, controlled his emotion, and picked a wiser course. He curved forward in deference and humility.

-- I will do better next time, sir.

Lyal was astonished. Moments went by, and the stag remained low before him, waiting for forgiveness. He remembered how weak and vulnerable _he_felt when he'd been a new slave in a strange place, with a master he barely knew. He finally mellowed.

-- No, it wasn't your fault. That sack of flour is a bitch. Come back here, and keep stirring.

There was a pause.

"Please."

Lyal made room for him, and Leaf resumed his task.

"The stew has to be too thick," suddenly explained the canine.

-- Why?

-- Because of that.

Lyal showed the cutting board with the precious few slices of vegetables, and added them.

"If you don't eat the meat, the liquid is all you'll get. If it's clear, you'll go hungry."

-- I thought Master Gath went to buy more vegetables.

Lyal settled beside Leaf, and began to clean the spill.

-- He did, but I don't think he'll find any in this district's market; it's too small, and veggies are rare. He'll need to walk further to a bigger one tomorrow.

-- Oh.

With the stirring, the boil was under control. The hitting of the ladle against the sides of the pot added itself to the kitchen sounds.

"Thank you, then."

When Gath returned empty-handed, and, therefore, fairly annoyed, his adorable slaves had set up a table in the atrium, to make the most of what was left of this beautiful day. Supper was hot and ready, and they stood there waiting for him. His reptilian heart was cold and stout, and yet it missed a beat when he saw them accessible and side-by-side.

He couldn't wait for the sun to go down.

When it did, Gath's anticipation was vindicated. It was vindicated the first night, and the one after that, and also the one after that... The Tsam slave was a fine acquisition without a doubt, but as days went by, the ambiance in the household degraded. Lyal got irritable, often berating Leaf, and shelving the more unpleasant chores onto his shoulders. Gath had initially assumed his loyal slave was testing the newcomer's training, but Lyal didn't let up on him. It even seemed to worsen.

Specifically, those shifts in the canine's mood occurred after each night.

Lyal had always been satisfying in bed, but Leaf was something different altogether. Stuck in a sex-fueled frenzy, Gath could barely think straight.

Leaf's warm back shook under the gator as Gath plowed his tight ass, grabbing at his chest with both hands, clawing and pulling at his body repeatedly to press it into his own torso.

The master pushed his conquered buck hard against the mattress in a sudden change of pace, and held him there to fully experience the control over his frisky slave. Leaf reacted strongly to this, digging his hands in the bed under his shoulders to shove his pulverized butt into the rough reptile, but the latter kept the eager rump in place with a powerful thrust of one arm to his right buttock. It was all Gath could do to prevent him from going too fast, to make this scorching pleasure last.

Forced into compliance, Leaf moaned and slowed down, becoming more manageable. Gath continued to mount him with even movements, as his thick cock pulsated with the almost painful ecstasy of rubbing in and out of the stag's ass. Leaf soon surrendered to this new rhythm, and waved faintly opposite his master's movements, causing the shaft to prod him deeper and more harshly. The Tsam was tireless, wild, greedy and generous at the same time. Every night, the pleasure of taming him and harnessing his vigor was renewed.

Leaf was brought to heel, for the moment, so Gath gradually released the pressure on his back and cheek. When the buck kept the imposed pace, the master celebrated his victory by hooking his slave's right leg with one arm, and seizing his leather collar with the other. He elevated him high enough for Leaf to dangle humiliatingly, unable to impact the pace of his getting fucked, without an abutment. Leaf nevertheless engaged in comfortable and submissive swaying into Gath's hold, while his master demonstrated his strength and dominance. The stag craned his neck backward, and offered a stare that Gath couldn't interpret as anything less than congratulations.

After a few minutes of having him in this way, Gath had to slow himself down again. He extracted his sex carefully out of the reddened and punished anus. Leaf whined, but couldn't do anything about it. His master turned him around, and put him to the bed on his back, this time. The slave was powerfully erect. He kept his place, but remained deviously watchful, prepared to jump at any opportunity to break his master's self-control. Gath teased him in revenge, fondling his sack and the base of his shaft. He also pinched his cute male nipples and breasts, making him squirm when the gator moved a knee between his open thighs, pressing it into the crack of his bum and under his balls.

Leaf tried to get up to climb onto his master again, but he was cruelly prevented when Gath's palm pinned him down. Delighted by his own desperation, he resorted to stimulating himself at what he knew would be an excruciatingly lingering pace, by grinding his lower body against Gath's leg. His master laughed at his eager, open and honest vulnerability. Leaf was so needy, so dreadfully willing to offer this truth, this pathetic want for Gath to exploit, that he couldn't help but take advantage. To push his buck even further, Gath controlled him by the collar, and inclined him forward a bit, just enough so that his swelling cock would brush the gray scales of the reptile's leg. Leaf whimpered in supplication, and tried to grind harder, but there was no way to significantly increase the teasing rub. He moved one hand to nudge his cock into Gath's thigh, but the master instantly put a stop to it, gripping his wrist.

-- I don't think so.

Instead, Gath brought the disobedient hand to his own stiff sex, and made it massage it. The buck had to pleasure Gath, while his own throbbing penis barely chafed enough to drive him insane with arousal. Eventually, it was just too much.

-- Oh, please! My glorious master, please! Have mercy upon your humble toy! Mercy! Mercy master!

Rather than showing mercy, Gath traced a claw along the crown of the inflated bulb, barely touching it. Leaf screamed and begged incoherently, short of breath.

"No! Aah! No, please! Don't, master! I beg! I implore you! Let me! More!"

Gath grinned, holding his slave as his precious rosy dick slapped sadly against his scales. He kept hollering tearfully in uncontrollable lust.

"Please! Again, up my ass! Maybe I can... reach! Anal, I beg, please!"

Gath laughed.

-- You want to ejaculate?

-- God yes please master!

-- You have to deserve it if you want more anal.

-- What, what must I do? Anything! I want to deserve! I'll do anything!

-- When I finish, you'll have to take all of my seed to your face, and wear it like a humble slut until I decide otherwise. Agreed?

-- Yes of course I'll wear your come! Leaf responded so hurriedly he sounded almost angry. I'll take it all anywhere you want! Anything! Please master right now!

Gath flipped his subjugated stag over, and resumed giving the tiny hole under the white underside of his tail a thorough trashing with his cock. Leaf submitted willfully, thanking the master. The two figures continued to... interlock.

From his carpet, right next to the bed, Lyal wished that he could summon the strength to look away. He could see what his master found attractive about that filthy, slutty newcomer, and it scared him to hell. He felt like crying every night as he witnessed how much fun Gath was having, in a way that he was pretty sure he'd never provided, or even imagined was possible to provide. Leaf was sexy, and bold, and crazy. He felt insipid in comparison. How could he compete with this perfect young Tsam?

Even worse was when the buck climaxed loudly, and spurted his semen on the covers that Lyal would end up cleaning. Lyal touched the cage trapping his loins. His flesh pressed against it hurtfully, powerlessly, and he felt betrayed.

It was unfair.

Had he been a boring slave? Maybe he had, and this was his fault. Anxious, Lyal saw his master reach another memorable orgasm, as he quickly changed position, grabbing the stag's face, and coating it with many jets of sticky white seed. The slave was completely covered, and had to keep his eyes closed. Nastily enough, Gath didn't wipe them, but caressed the nape and shoulders of his used male while he locked his wrists in his back.

-- Well done, Gath said soothingly. Your master is very pleased.

Following this, the gator dragged his soaked, restrained Leaf back to his place -- a ring that Gath had fixed into the wall facing his bed, to which the buck could be fastened in a kneeling position. The master left his spent plaything slouching into his binds to dry. The buck panted with a satisfied smile that Lyal hated irrationally. Gath seemed bushed as well. He returned to his bed, and sat in it, enjoying the lovely view of his humbled, creamy property.

That was when Lyal heard the familiar tapping. Bitter, he nonetheless obediently crawled to his master on the bed, who wiggled his arched, long-toed reptilian feet at his attention. That was all Lyal had left, these days. He waited until his master was done, made happy by Leaf, and then he could provide some supplementary comfort. Despite his resentment, he did his absolute best. He balled around the sharp extremities, and held them, hugged them, and rubbed them with his delicate pads. He cared for the claws, expertly cleaning their edges of any dirt that might be lodged in or at their base. He squeezed the soles with his thumbs, feeling his master relax in his touches. He began kneading their balls, then, and soon moved to the agile toes. He warmed them, and played with them, making sure to slip his fingers in-between to remove the ordinary dust of the day: a minuscule film of powdered sand and dirt that could get stuck over and under the scales. When he was done, obviously, he flattened himself in front of them, placed his snout against them, stuck his tongue out, and licked his master's feet with drawn-out motions. He tongued the undersides from the heels to the claws, occasionally brushing them with his nose. He opened wider, and sucked on the toes, careful with the sharp tips, weaving the suckling with shorter licks to the balls and between the toes. Following this, he attended the sides, and sometimes nuzzled the topside, but not too long, for that wasn't what his master preferred. When he was done, he lapped the soles again, and began the cycle anew.

Gath let Lyal's skillful tongue tickle and service him while all of his muscles went fully limp. The Southerner's collar glistened in the twilight of the bedroom, as his head moved around while he performed. Lyal, being well-trained, would keep up his efforts unflinchingly until his master ordered him different. Something about the contrast of the cold air on his wet feet against Lyal's hot tongue contented Gath immensely, not to mention watching the subservient canine at work, eyes closed, wholly dedicated.

Gath lounged in bed with restful puffs. Whenever he moved his legs, Lyal dutifully followed. The master had decided to keep his Southerner going for a while, and dozed off in brief bouts for about an hour before sleepiness won over. Lyal had slowed down a little by then, and he snuggled his master's feet for longer periods between two licks, but never did he halt. Gath slapped the top of his own knee with his palm, and then he resumed dozing. Lyal curled on top of his legs, finally allowed to rest.

Master and slave were both tired in the morning, but Gath believed in rising early even when he didn't need to. He thought it built willpower. A solitary crow broke the quiet every minute or so, but it didn't bother Gath, sitting in the atrium, resting his eyes upon his favorite decorative urn without much focus. In fact, he rather liked the awkward sound. Lyal brought him a cup of warm wine with spices from the kitchen. He hadn't asked for it, but he took it gratefully. Lyal was full of these attentions these last few days, but then again, it was nothing new. He'd always been sweet and affectionate. No, it was Leaf that filled Gath's thoughts. The buck was still chained to the bedroom wall. The gator wanted to bring him lower a bit, but not too much. It was time to show him some care, so that he wouldn't feel forgotten.

"Lyal."

The canine stood to attention while Gath sipped the wine.

"Wash Leaf up, would you? And bring him here."

Lyal made a face, but departed to fetch a cloth and fulfill his instructions. The reptile wasn't stupid. He saw the tension between his slaves. Males would be males, in the end. They'd grow out of their silly rivalry, and he certainly had no intention to humiliate himself by addressing it. As long as it didn't affect the quality of their obedience, he'd let them work it out like big boys.

Glum, Lyal held the wet cloth in a tight fist. He couldn't believe it. No matter how hard he tried, it seemed that the damned buck was all that could enter his master's mind.

He swung the bedroom door open, and noticed with a trace of satisfaction that he'd startled the fettered Tsam. He was wretched with his face crusted in thick come. He smelled like sex, and Lyal hated it. He smothered Leaf's face carelessly with the wet rag, until the deer could at least open his eyes in a squint, and look up.

-- Thank you.

-- What for? You liked it, last night.

Lyal dropped the cloth over Leaf's head, and unhooked his collar.

-- Heh. I guess I did, admitted the Tsam.

Lyal grumbled while Leaf got up from his knees, shaking the cloth from his face. The stag turned to offer his wrist shackles, but Lyal didn't unlock them like the other days. He was angrier than usual. Leaf sighed.

"What's wrong, now?"

-- Get down.

-- What?

-- Go back to your knees!

Leaf's first reflex was to do what Lyal ordered, as it usually was also Master Gath's will. He knelt, but something felt off.

-- Why?

Lyal placed his hands over Leaf's shoulders, and dug his tiny claws rather painfully.

-- That's what you want anyway, isn't it?

-- What do you mean?

-- Maybe I can slap you around too, and save master some effort to indulge your selfish urges.

Leaf stopped putting up with this. These last few days, he'd been nothing if not tolerant of Lyal's increasingly terrible attitude, but enough was enough. He struggled to stand. Lyal tried to prevent him.

-- Oh, fuck off, doggy.

The canine initially appeared thrilled by Leaf's response to his provocations.

-- Stay in your place, slave! I was here first, and you heard the master. You'll do as I say.

Was that Lyal's master play? The stag was delighted to tell him off. He got up violently, sending the annoyingly bossy Midlander staggering backward into an armoire.

-- I'm not your slave, and I won't refrain from serving my master well, just because it emphasizes how boring you are in comparison!

Despite his irritation, Leaf regretted saying that, to some extent. For a moment, there, Lyal was devastated, as if the buck's taunt had crushed a nerve into jelly. Then, his expression morphed to seething hatred.

Gath entered the room, summoned by the ruckus, looking way less than pleased. His slaves, painfully aware that they'd been bad, crumbled into excuses, blaming each other.

-- Not another word from either of you! I expect better, much better.

Leaf bowed to the floor in apology. Lyal stood on the verge of tears. At last, both were mute. Gath untied his groveling buck.

"Leaf, kitchen. You cook, today. Show me what you can do. Lyal, clean the bedroom. When you two are done, we will eat, and it will be peaceful, understood?"

-- Yes, master! they intoned.

Morning went by in uptight silence. The slaves avoided each other, which was pretty easy in the large villa. They bumped into one another when Lyal traveled to the kitchen to fetch some soap for cleaning the covers and blankets of the bed. They locked noxious stares, but Gath was already riled up at them. As soon as their master had heard them moving toward the same room, he'd gotten up from his seat in the atrium. His appearance at the kitchen entrance melted the buildup. He watched over them, daring either of them to display hostility first. Leaf eventually moved aside, letting Lyal through to get the soap, and they separated. Gath shook his head, returning to his attempt at having a soothing morning in the sun. The gator did his best to ignore the unpleasant atmosphere.

Lyal left the house briefly with the bundle of cloth that he had to wash under his arm. When he went back from the well, right outside the villa, with the clean blankets, Gath helped him lay them over the atrium table to dry; they'd eat on the kitchen table that day. After they were done, Gath lifted his dark-furred slave, and sat him with himself to wait for dinner. To his great happiness, this Lyal was the cuddly one he'd known for years. He slipped his arms around his master's chest, and Gath sensed the cool metal of his cage against his waist, under his tunic. As long as he kept his pet with him, and caressed him, Lyal exhibited only serenity and obedience. In time, Leaf showed up as well. The deer adopted a timid stance under the arch that led from the atrium toward the kitchen, and waited to be acknowledged. Gath saw him, but let him demonstrate his patience for a few minutes.

-- Is dinner ready?

-- Yes, my fantabulous Master Gath.

Gath cringed, and got up, dropping Lyal to his paws. He slapped the buck's snout in a downward motion, turned him toward the kitchen, and smacked his bum. It wasn't gentle, but Leaf took the punishment with a resilient grin.

-- I told you not to do this.

Gath took the lead.

"Come," he said to his slaves. "We eat inside."

Lyal simmered. Leaf was such a dumbass! He annoyed the master on purpose, just to draw attention to himself. Ensuring Gath was out of earshot, he produced a low growl at the stag when he passed him by. Leaf straightened his back snootily, and stuck out his tongue, following in turn.

Dinner was superb. It wasn't merely scrumptious, but it looked colorful and wealthy. Lyal poked the well-seared, buttery yet crispy vegetables, pushed the tender, bloody meat covered in a sweet mustard sauce, munched on the freshly baked bread. He detested how he couldn't find anything less than succulent around his plate. He should've expected that the Tsam wasn't being honest when he said he barely knew how to cook. It was more of his bullshit fake modesty. Lyal was disgusted by the perfectness of it all. Leaf was better at this, too. Leaf was better at everything. The canine dropped his fork. How did Leaf even do this? How could Lyal learn it without proving that he was, indeed, the inferior slave? The kitchen table was a tiny square; it forced intimacy. Gath had naturally chosen to sit between his slaves, but that meant that they sat face-to-face. When Lyal witnessed the knowing pride in the buck's face, he stood up, made up an excuse about not feeling well, and left.

Leaf was astounded by that slave's ill manners, but Gath inevitably seemed to give him a pass. No matter, really. The master was obviously pleased by his meal, and it filled Leaf with a fuzzy joy of being valued and accepted by his new proprietor. He couldn't help himself, and shamelessly fished for a compliment.

-- Is everything to your taste?

Gath waved his claws, swallowing a mouthful.

-- It's delicious, and you know it. I never imagined vegetables could taste good.

-- I sautéed them with some of the blood mixed with the fat, and I added those Tsam spices I asked you to buy. I figured it would please you.

-- It does. You're proving to be an excellent purchase, everyday.

Leaf reveled in the praise.

"But you'll stop picking fights with Lyal."

The reveling ceased brutally.

-- What? But, master, it's not my-

-- I don't care, slave. I'm warning you.

Leaf was flabbergasted. He was getting a warning from his master because of that... that useless dog? How unfair!

Gath pushed his chair back, and soon left after Lyal. The deer watched it happen, helpless and dismayed. He ended up eating that marvelous meal -- that he'd proudly worked very hard all morning to create -- alone.

Gath grumbled as he crossed the atrium. This should've been another ideal day, and yet there he was. He found that he had little patience left for Lyal and Leaf's absurd jealous antics. They would make up, he decided, and they would make up right then and there. Perhaps what they really needed was a moment, by themselves, to get to know each other, like that first day. Everything had gone right, then.

The reptile entered the bedroom. Lyal had swiped one of his master's pillows, and had curled around it on his rug. Gath made a concerted effort not to be softened by that sight.

"Put my pillow back."

Lyal jerked at the stern command as if he'd been thrown a lightning bolt. He put the pillow in its place, and then turned to his master, on all fours. He seemed miserable.

"You'll head to the kitchen, and you'll help Leaf clean it up. I'm heading out to buy a jar for the flour, like you mentioned. You'll work together, and when I come back, the kitchen will be clean, understood?"

Lyal understood. Now, he had to clean up after Leaf. Soon, he'd be _his_servant, begging at his hooves to be allowed to stay one more day. He couldn't compete. He'd been careless, so his master had shopped for a replacement. He knew where this journey ended: to the market. He couldn't believe Gath was doing this to him. Then again, it was true that he was inferior. His master was right to get rid of him. He didn't know how he could improve. How could he put more effort than he already was? He just wasn't good enough. Lyal hated Leaf. Lyal hated everything. Most of all, Lyal hated Lyal.

The Southerner dragged himself to the kitchen like a prisoner to his execution. He reached it, and Leaf glowered at him in guarded puzzlement.

-- I must help you clean, Lyal mumbled blankly.

The slaves heard the door close. The master had gone.

The dog appeared distressed, but Leaf had just been through the painful humiliation of throwing most of his dinner to the trash. He was hardly in a forgiving mood.

-- Just stay out of my way, that's how you'll help most.

For some reason, Lyal collapsed, apparently recognizing his worthlessness. He sat right there on the floor, and looked while the stag ordered up the kitchen. It lasted for a quite few minutes, but at some point it drove the Tsam crazy.

"Are you seriously going to just sit there without helping? How pathetic can you get?"

Humiliated, Lyal couldn't hold back his tears.

-- That's what you wanted! You win! You get to do everything from now on. Congratulations.

Lyal sniffed. Confused by the aggressive tone, Leaf missed the point.

-- Yeah, and then you'll be sold off because you'll be useless!

Just as Leaf realized that that was exactly what the canine had meant, and was terrified of, Lyal gasped in awe at the buck's callousness. His self-loathing turned to rage in a flash of violent intent. He fell into that boiling anger whole, and pushed himself from the floor. He didn't care about anything other than hurting Leaf, who was willingly stealing his life.

-- No, he won't! I've been with him for years! I've been nice so far, but that's over! I'll talk to him about you. I can get him to sell you, and cheap! You've been here less than a week, you think my master cares about you because you can cook and you like cock up your ass? We can get twenty slaves like that! You'll end up stuffed in a dirty brothel so hard, even you won't enjoy it! Just another asshole in a line!

It wasn't true. Lyal was absolutely certain that Gath would never put up Leaf for sale because Lyal pressured him about it. In fact, Gath would react very badly to that sort of behavior, but truth wasn't the point. Hurting Leaf was, and Lyal's burning rage was utterly stimulated when he saw that he had, indeed, shaken Leaf's confidence.

The stag's eyes went down in worry for a moment. He'd witnessed the special connection between Gath and Lyal firsthand. He was suddenly filled with dread at the appalling notion that Lyal might be right. He was a new slave, and maybe he wasn't all that exceptional in his master's eyes. He remembered what his master had made him repeat... If Lyal truly did this, he might very realistically destroy Leaf. A tsunami of helpless dread carried him far, away from his training, even away from sanity. The Tsam blackened.

The slaves stared each other down. As if of common accord, the final threads of civility ruptured between them. They plunged.

Leaf was taller and heavier, but Lyal had teeth and claws. For some reason, however, he couldn't bring himself to use them as he scuffled with that jerk cervine. He tried to strike at the stomach, but Leaf pulled his lower body away, gripping the lighter canine's shoulders to keep his balance, and immobilize him. Lyal struck at his arms, and grappled right back. Locked together, they began to fling themselves around, trying to make the other lose balance. They hit the counter. They hit the walls. Hadn't they been oblivious to the sounds of broken potteries and crashing kitchenware, they might have stopped, but all they saw was their adversary. All they heard were their own grunts.

Leaf was strong, but Lyal had no intention of letting that despicable Tsam win over him once more. He refused to. Since he couldn't shove the stag around, he went lighter on his paws, jumping with Leaf's abrupt movements, impossible to push down. Infuriated, the buck threw him over the counter. Lyal fell to the other side along with most of the cauldrons and plates that Leaf had been washing. The stag vaulted over the obstacle, but Lyal rolled to his side and was up in a blink with a pan in hand. Leaf suddenly backed off, as the heavy pan could be an actually, very seriously dangerous bludgeon. Lyal laughed cruelly at the reversal of situation, and swung skillfully for Leaf's hip. The surprised Tsam leaped aside, and hollered in pain as the blow landed on his thigh. He retreated toward the atrium, fearful.

Lyal grinned, but nevertheless witnessed himself letting go of his improvised weapon. His hunger for this fight wasn't quenched, but again, deep instincts let him know that beating Leaf with a pan was crossing a line that he had no desire to cross.

Leaf's attention instantly focused on the dropped pan. This act informed both of the slaves of how far Lyal was prepared to take this, and Leaf discovered his hostility drained. Lyal didn't truly want to hurt him; he was angry, afraid and threatened. He acted in panic. They both had. Leaf began to raise his palms, but Lyal was already diving. He protected himself against the repeated hits to his chest and face, at first, but eventually he struck back half-blindly, and connected with Lyal's muzzle. The dog squealed, spat some blood, and threw a renewed fiery look. With his entire weight, the charcoal-furred avenger bashed into Leaf, sending him tumbling into a waist-high marble stand that broke into dusty pieces on the brick floor, just like the precious decorative urn that had been resting on top.

An urn that Gath liked quite a lot. It was possibly the sole part of the house that he liked.

Lyal contemplated Leaf's exquisite body, scrambling away among the broken bits of what couldn't be undone. The canine turned around, and examined the obliterated kitchen from afar. It was most certainly not what his master would consider "clean". The floor was even covered in a rich red liquid, as they'd broken the pot of spicy wine.

"Oh, no."

That was all he could manage. He slowly descended to his knees, and buried his snout into his hands. He sobbed right there, in the middle of the atrium.

Leaf stood up, and evaluated the damage in turn. He didn't feel all that good about himself either. There was nothing to do, but to wait for Master Gath's judgment, and accept whatever consequences would come. They'd messed up. It was time to own it. He silently went down next to Lyal. They made for a convincingly repentant pair, in the midst of their warzone.

They would repent more.

The evening had arrived, and carried out its task of lulling the sun to sleep, dying the sky in orange and purple, blanketing the atrium in cool shade.

Leaf trembled in his heavy wooden yoke, but Lyal didn't assume it was because of the cold. The stag shrieked loudly in pain, next to him. The sound of the horsewhip whacking profoundly onto the exposed buttocks sickened Lyal with apprehension. Also immobilized to the floor by a similar contraption around his neck and wrists, bent over a second punishment block that locked his legs securely, Lyal couldn't do anything other than watch the buck's face while he waited his turn. It contorted in hideously undignified suffering, his fingers twisting chaotically, and heavy tears running plentifully from his panic-widened eyes.

It was clear that Leaf had initially planned to accept the correction with quiet resignation, to show their master that he knew he was at fault, and to keep face in front of Lyal, but the sheer impact of the first lash, when it reached Lyal's fearful ears, conveyed the fact that Gath had no intention to allow that. The master was mad, and swung with full fury. Lyal hadn't seen him like this for years. It was more than the urn, the wine, and the general damage to his property: the river reptile was furious because they'd undermined his trust in them. He couldn't leave them alone anymore. He'd have to watch them, and manage them, and keep them separate, and this all must've seemed exhaustingly, insanely frustrating in his eyes. By the fourth stroke of the crop, nothing was left of Leaf's courageous demeanor. He cried with the shrill, ugly voice of despair, and his body shoved senselessly into the rigid binds, as he couldn't help but obey a deep impulse to look for a nonexistent way to escape the blinding pain.

Lyal continued to witness the buck's helpless anguish while the powerful digging strikes continued to land, lengthily spaced out, under his tail, over his stretched cheeks, and onto his upper thighs, at the height of his balls. After the eleventh lash, forsaking any dignity, he supplicated Gath to end the punishment, convulsively announcing that he simply couldn't endure any more. He could barely speak. His eyes were reddened, and his nose leaked. His entire face was wet.

Gath moved over him, crouched, and placed a stern hand over his back.

-- You deserve more, he said coldly.

-- No! implored Leaf with alarmed sobs. I can't! Please! Please, master!

The scaly hand rubbed him until he calmed down. It patted the side of his neck, and the back of his head.

-- Alright. You're done.

Leaf collapsed limply into even more tears then. He wouldn't have been more relieved if it was decreed that his life was spared. Lyal, however, became tense. He truly loathed being restrained like this, being vulnerable like this. He genuinely hoped that Leaf simply had a low pain threshold, and that the inflicted punishment wouldn't be as atrocious as it appeared. He truly didn't want to end up as grotesquely shamed as the deer. He heard Gath position himself behind him.

"Lyal," his master simply called.

It was his turn. He couldn't see, couldn't know when the first blow would land on his ass. He squirmed, already barely able to endure the terror alone. Leaf looked at him pitifully, precisely aware of what the Southerner was about to go through.

The shock of the first stroke resounded into Lyal's whole body, the emotional impact of the hurt almost totally overtaken by the surprise of how much worse this felt than anything he'd imagined. He felt his face shape up in the exact same mask of stupid gaping that he'd observed in Leaf. Almost immediately after, lacerating pain exploded along the diagonal path the crop had taken across his buttocks. It was sharp, resounding, and enduring. The canine hollered at once. Gath had chosen the horsewhip for a reason, Lyal realized. It was so that he could use maximum force. This panicked Lyal, as he knew his master occasionally seemed to not quite grasp his own physical strength.

What was it exactly that Leaf had just been through? What did his punished rear look like after that beating? Lyal was having trouble imagining that his own flesh hadn't shattered after that initial lash. Surely, he was bleeding. He stared back at Leaf in the silent horror of understanding both what Leaf had endured, and what he was about to.

When the second blow drew a scorching, peeling mark on the right side of his butt, Lyal lost all countenance. It seemed impossible that Leaf had endured eleven of these before he broke down. It was too much for him already. He too, just like Leaf before him, shoved aside all notions about saving face, and laboriously begged Gath to be spared the rest of the punishment. After the third strike set the crack of his ass aflame, the brutal increase in pain made him squeal violently. He slobbered and wheezed with abundant tears. Repeating his request for leniency, he tried using the exact same words Leaf had used to end his punishment, in the hysterical hope that it would make a difference.

It didn't.

The punishment was imposed to Lyal's rump, hit after hit, until the unbearable pain silenced him. Lyal lost count, stuck in an eternal moment of agony. Just like Leaf, he thrashed ineffectually into his binds to attempt an impossible escape, screamed, cried, and begged for the torment to end early, he was pretty sure that he even turned to the stag at some point, and asked for help. His impression of this moment was hazy, and difficult to remember.

"That's eleven."

Lyal thought it was over, at last, but his peace was annihilated with flawless cruelty when Gath angrily added:

"This one's because you were in charge."

The twelfth ruthless lash ran horizontally on his thighs. Lyal howled in renewed, incalculable fear that his punishment might not be over, his spirit shattered, his ability to cope exhausted, but no more hits came. It took a while for him to sense Gath crouched over him, patting his back and shoulders the same way he'd done for Leaf. He neck was touched, as well as the back of his head.

"You're done."

Gath threw the horsewhip down, breathing heavily himself, and left without another word. The ashes of his rage continued to burn, deeply engraved into the slaves' aligned bums, covered with severe red-and-purple bruises, as a throbbing reminder of their disobedience that would last for weeks, and certainly prevent them from sitting or even lying on their backs. They felt humiliated in this uniquely potent way that only slaves that failed even at being slaves can feel.

Leaf was trying hard to get his sobs under-control, without too much success. In a strange manner, hearing Lyal's also fruitless attempts to cease sobbing comforted him. He wasn't any more sad and pathetic than the canine was. In fact, noticing that he witnessed Lyal's pain without the slightest trace of contempt helped him accept that the reverse was probably true.

About an hour after they'd been disciplined, when Lyal finally succeeded in regaining composure -- well, as much composure as their immobilized, exhibited stances allowed -- so did Leaf. He focused on the sounds of Lyal's existence. He heard him swallow, and listened for the soft occasional wheeze made by his nose as he sighed increasingly calmly. He heard his tail brush around, every once in a while, and it made him weirdly comfortable. Leaf studied his neighbor in binds. The black snout sagged from the yoke. His chestnut eyes were fixed on the floor.

-- We're idiots.

Lyal didn't budge, but after ten seconds, he answered quietly.

-- No, you're an idiot. I'm beyond that. I'm worthless.

Tears welled in his eyes again. He shut them, and the drops disappeared in his already humid fur. They were mute for a spell.

"I lied," resumed Lyal. "Gath would never sell you, no matter how much of a tantrum I threw. You're so..."

The words got stuck, and Lyal shook his head.

"I can't compete."

Leaf took a moment, meditating his response.

-- Do we have to?

Leaf waited for the reply, content that Lyal was sincerely thinking about it too.

-- I don't think we can avoid it, he stated.

-- Must we care, then?

-- I don't know.

Leaf wriggled in an attempt to stretch some of his muscles that met no success.

-- I'm sorry I said you were useless. I didn't mean it. That first day, I thought we would be friends. I thought you were smart, and considerate, even if you didn't like me.

Lyal's face twisted in pain.

-- Don't lie! I was mean, because I was jealous, because I could see how great you were, how attractive...

Lyal sobbed again. The poor thing was a mess, and Leaf didn't know what to say.

-- You weren't that mean, and I'm sure I wasn't so great, started Leaf.

That was not the right thing to say.

-- Don't patronize me! Lyal whimpered angrily.

-- Oh, fine! conceded the Tsam. You were a giant pain in my tail! You were a jerk, jerk, jerk! I performed at my best, sparing no effort for those three first days, I made my new master as happy as I could possibly make him, and yet I got warned that I shouldn't provoke you. Me! Am I angry about it? No! Because you had a right to be a jerk. I did try to one-up you at every turn! I was showy because I sensed that you had something with Master Gath that I couldn't touch. I didn't want to feel like the new slave because I'm vain and annoying, alright?

Leaf held his breath. Instead of crumbling again, Lyal appeared quite interested in that outburst of honesty.

-- Is this really how you felt?

-- Yeah.

-- You were still right, though. You pleased our master at the best of your capacities. It's not your fault if I'm not good enough.

-- What does that mean? What aren't you good enough at? Cooking, and the like?

Lyal seemed to shrink into his binds, his voice a whisper.

-- Sure, that. And, well, you know... Other things too.

-- Sex?

The absence of a response made Lyal's sentiment all the more obvious.

"It's just a question of training. I could show you a thing or two about cooking."

Now, that suggestion cheered Lyal right up.

-- Really? You'd help me get better? What about... What about sex?

Leaf smiled.

-- That's both easier and more complicated. Haven't you received formal training for this?

-- Gath trained me.

-- Then, have you considered that maybe you're already the way he wants you?

Lyal moodily dropped his muzzle again.

-- But he spends every night with you.

-- Yes, but I'm his shiny new toy. He'll calm down, and I won't have an unfair advantage anymore. He keeps you pretty darn close for a slave he's bored of, don't you think? Me, when he's done with me, I get chained to a wall.

Lyal gasped. He hadn't considered Leaf's outlook at all. It seemed terrible that he was chained in the cold while Lyal slept in Gath's warm bed. Leaf continued:

"He gets up in the morning with you, he has breakfast with you, and he... and he's very affectionate with you. I just get spanked and fucked."

Leaf suddenly minded himself, and looked around as if he'd committed some sort of treason.

"Not that I'm complaining! The master should make use of me however he wishes. It's just that, sometimes, I'd like what you have. I know it might come, but I'm not very patient. My trainer always said I had to practice that... I used to kneel in my cage all day long, doing nothing. I figured that if I became more patient, it'd make it less difficult..."

-- Make what less difficult?

Leaf gulped unhappily at the memory.

-- To wait for a home.

Leaf sighed. Lyal couldn't believe he'd ever been angry at that poor, gentle buck.

-- Help me be pleasing in bed, and I'll help you settle in.

-- Deal!

Lyal felt a massive veil of illness lifted from his soul. He smiled at Leaf.

-- You can start by not making up lengthy appellations for our master.

-- I'm just teasing. Masters like teasing.

Lyal shook his head knowingly.

-- Not this one. Not on the subject of respect. If he feels you're being ironic about respecting him, you're bargaining for trouble.

-- You're sure?

Lyal nodded emphatically. Leaf remembered the less than soft slapping he incurred when Gath warned him for the second time.

"Okay, I'll cut it out."

There was an awkward silence.

-- I don't think I can be how you are in bed, uttered Lyal bashfully.

-- Good. You shouldn't.

The canine raised his brows quizzically.

"I can't tell you how you should be to satisfy Master Gath. He'll want what you can provide best, and I can't know for sure what that is. That's the complicated part."

-- What's the easy part?

-- You offer something, and if he likes it, he'll take it, and then he'll want more. That's how we figure out what we want. There are no designs to respect, no formula to follow. Start with what you enjoy. Odds are he enjoys it too. Trust yourself. Try things you'd like to try.

Lyal reflected on this.

-- Hmm. Alright. I'll think about it. Thank you, Leaf.

They'd run out of things to say. Leaf added nothing, and neither did Lyal. They tried to sleep, but the yokes and the blocks were designed to be uncomfortable. It was tremendously difficult to rest in them. In the middle of the night, Leaf heard Lyal, short of breath, fighting his fetters with quick yelps in a sort of panic. It took him twenty minutes to return to normal. He noticed Leaf's glances.

"I can't bear being restrained," he explained.

-- I guess master wanted us to bond.

It was so unfunny, Lyal laughed.

In the morning, Gath returned to his tamed males. He circled them slowly, and stood in front of them. They both looked up to him with shame and remorse. Even from the front, he could see the marks on their beaten bottoms.

-- How does it feel to be a bad slave? Hmm?

Gath pierced each with his intense, disappointed scowl, until they broke down and lowered their heads.

"I have half a mind to give you both a second helping right now, just to make sure."

Their tightly secured yokes and shackles didn't allow them much movement upon their punishment blocks, and yet the reptile saw them contract low in fear, and shiver at the prospect.

"Keep that in your thoughts, won't you?"

On this, Gath bowed, and freed Lyal's neck and wrists. Nevertheless, he stayed exactly in place, while his master stretched over him, and undid his leg shackles as well. He got to his paws very warily, but at the same time, he appreciated the delicious freedom to move as he wished. Despite his fatigue, he stood straight to attention while Leaf was also released. The buck joined him in his compliant, impeccable stance. Gath detailed them both, seeking the slightest problem, the faintest hiccup in their behavior. He finished circling around them, returning to their backs. Their raw cheeks would serve as a convenient and implacable reminder of his will, and of their places. For the moment, they were whipped into shape to Gath's satisfaction.

"Fix your mess."

He gave no additional information as to how they should proceed. He wanted them to split the tasks and work without getting in each other's way, while he merely supervised. To his absolute astonishment, they didn't separate, with one cleaning the atrium while the other began picking up the mess in the kitchen. Instead, his buck began making small heaps of the larger broken pieces of the urn and the marble stand. As soon as Lyal identified what he was doing, he fetched a large soft-leather bag to pick up the stacks and dump them outside. With the sharp, dangerous pieces out of the way, they both lifted what was left of the stand together, and brought it outside as well. Only then did they separate, as it was more efficient to only have one sweeping the atrium with a broom. Leaf did it, while Lyal started sponging the wine with what rags he could find. In a flash, the atrium was safe and clean, so that Gath could sit down in his usual place, and rest without being actively frustrated by the disarray, though there was a nagging emptiness where his urn used to be. Gath was a creature of habits and order, but he found himself more forgiving on account of the good show Lyal and Leaf had made out of working together. He tempered his optimism. He'd see how long it would last.

It lasted.

Most impressive, over the next few days, was how the slaves made an effort to spend time together beyond what was necessary for their household chores. At least, Gath imagined that it might be a concerted effort for his sake. If it really was -- which he doubted -- and they were pretending, then they were pretending with smashing realism. They were still a bit shy and intimidated in his presence, as a natural consequence of their meticulous spanking, and it amused Gath greatly that they actually downplayed their increasing familiarity when he walked in on them. Chastised slaves invariably did that for a while; they assumed that they were forbidden from being cheerful, that they had to reel. Gath viewed it as a passive, follow-up punishment. He'd soon make sure to catch them having fun, or laughing, and would clearly demonstrate that it was sanctioned by playing along, or something. It would be sweet to watch them relax again. It would be the finishing touch to restoring the atmosphere back to what Gath desired. That and getting a new goddamned urn.

The master of the villa gazed at his new urn in delight. It never failed to cheer him up because he couldn't help but remember the way he'd gotten it, whenever it entered his sight. That urn seemed to encapsulate the recent events perfectly. Leaf had secretly made it, apparently unbothered by the fact that he'd never had any experience with the art of pottery. It wasn't as well-made as the valuable ancient artifact that they'd destroyed, but... it was beyond impressive. Lyal had conspired with him -- necessarily -- since, aside from Gath, he was the only one allowed to leave the house to purchase things. The gator knew that he'd not purchased any clay. Yet, despite his own contribution to the project, Lyal had failed not to be annoyed by Leaf's apparent ability to do everything.

Whenever he looked at that urn, Gath saw Leaf presenting it proudly, with Lyal rolling his eyes with contained exasperation in the background. He grinned. It was the best urn in the world.

The light padding of Lyal's paws interrupted the stream of Gath's memories. He gestured for him to approach. The gator was surprised because Lyal'd been sitting around and talking with Leaf in Gath's room. They did that often during late afternoons, and he wondered why they'd cut it short. His Southerner was embarrassed, holding his hands nervously, close to his chastity cage, betraying the nature of his urgency. Gath instantly guessed what this was about. Lyal knew the old rule. He had to ask permission. Gath loved making him ask. Lyal could never get used to it.

-- Yes?

He squirmed.

-- May I use my sex for a few minutes, master?

Gath put an arm around him, and dragged him closer to tease him.

-- Solo pleasure, Lyal?

The shameful absence of an answer was unusual. Gath was shocked when he understood, even if it was rather simple. No, Lyal wasn't cutting short his time with Leaf. Far from it.

"I see. I'm not sure how I feel about this."

Gath considered this new development. He was aware that his slaves had been growing much closer, exceptionally fast. He saw Lyal gently grooming Leaf while the latter cooked and explained what he was doing in detail. He noted how Leaf missed no opportunity to compliment Lyal, ask for his advice, and generally reinforce his status as the slave in charge. He observed Lyal resting his muzzle on Leaf's chest when they snuggled, if Gath was too busy to pay attention to them -- which was rare -- or when he returned from reporting to Merron to see if there'd been any order for them to mobilize -- which was frequent.

The reptile had caught all of it, but this still came as a smidge of a surprise. He studied Lyal as the slave coyly waited for his master's decision. They were bold to ask for this, but Gath decided that he saw no harm in it.

He produced the small key that he kept on a light chain around his neck, to Lyal's exquisite gratitude. The canine moved his hands out of the way, and spread his legs somewhat, offering his trapped privates for his master to unlock. The device loosened and came apart in two pieces. Gath took the cage away, and then his claws dug carefully around the base of Lyal's male bits to pass them through the ring. Gath handled them for a few more seconds, squeezing the entire package lightly to remind Lyal of whom it truly belonged to. The slave nodded in understanding.

Gath patted his round rear delicately, even though the bruises were healing and fading.

"Have fun. Your rug is okay. My bed isn't."

Lyal sprung happily as Gath made plans to "randomly" walk in on them at a calculated time. It was his room, after all. He wondered if one of them would be on top, and if so, which one? Leaf was bigger and stronger, and size occasionally did matter in these things. He was also wild and headstrong, but Lyal had a mean streak under his apparent softness, and Gath recognized as a singular fact that he could display an indomitable will at times... He shook his head. No. He couldn't lie to himself, and pretend that he didn't know. He knew. Lyal would top that buck and mount him hard, probably holding him by the antlers as leverage.

When the time came, Gath jumped to his feet, and discreetly crept among the evening shadows toward the bedroom. He opened the door, and burst with uncommon laughter.

The slaves turned to him, gawking destabilized at the sudden and eerie sight of their guffawing master. Leaf was on his knees and elbows on the rug, widely open, with Lyal deeply embedded in him, thumping up his serviceable anus. Lyal, curved over his conquest, was stroking the stag's milky inner thigh, obviously progressing toward his raging erection. His other hand held the left antler for leverage.

Gath continued to laugh as he ambled away.

Later that same night, things were calmer, and more usual. Leaf was locked in his place in front of the bed, and the alligator, completely naked on his covers, held Lyal's head, making him lick and suck hard reptile meat with his trained muzzle. He coiled his hot tongue around the glans, and then withdrew, as if shy, to give only tiny little strokes with its tip upward the shaft. His knees clenched tightly against Gath's legs, and his padded hands massaged the scaly hips with supple movements. The strong arm pushed him lower, and Lyal opened wide, angling himself upward to take the heavy balls in his mouth. His master approved with calm humming of his slave's gargling on his sack. Gath kept Lyal there for a while. Regularly, the gator reclined to elevate his crotch. During those short breaks, Lyal swallowed his accumulating spittle, lapped the taste of his master around his muzzle, and gaped wide awaiting his return. The large reptilian testicles dropped again, and Lyal received them with full service. One of his soft padded hands descended along his master's hip, and caressed the side of Gath's left buttock. The reptile twitched, instantly bringing Lyal's muzzle up. The canine froze in place.

"The hell are you doing?"

For river people, the buttocks were a low, honorless area. Getting touched in such places was slave pleasure; or for submissive males and females. Lyal was perfectly aware of this. Technically, his hand was still at the periphery of the shameful zone, but it was dangerously close.

-- I'm very sorry! Would you prefer me to stop, master?

Gath pondered. There was something different about Lyal, lately. He was increasingly assertive in his gentle, cuddly behavior. He used his entire body in new ways to touch and warm the reptile. Even at rest, his presence was more noticeable, as he'd climb a little, and extend an arm or leg over Gath. The master's eyes darted to Leaf, who was looking remarkably away. He seemed just about to add some nonchalant whistling. Gath was sure the Tsam had something to do with this...

Gath slid his claw into the crack of Lyal's bum possessively. It was _his_prerogative. He studied the dog carefully. He wasn't defiant in the least, with his ears comfortably folded, a raised tail, and a reserved smile. The hand wasn't moving from the side of Gath's bottom. Now that he was demonstrating his dominance by fiddling with Lyal's tailhole, he felt less attacked. It was silly, in a sense, to feel threatened by his decidedly loyal property. Besides, no one would know. Gath discovered himself willing to experiment.

-- Alright, but careful.

Lyal was plunged under his master's balls much more dominantly than before, so he suckled, kissed, and mouthed at them with servile fervor. He traced his fingers cautiously along the side of Gath's muscular butt, descending very progressively until he couldn't, because the rump met the bed. Lyal's palm therefore slid under the thigh with pleasing, massaging strokes.

The short-furred, silky black body covered Gath's lower half quite efficiently. The addition of the touches around Gath's ass was... interesting. He brought Lyal's face up from his balls.

"I don't hate it, but make sure to remember your place."

Gath presented his stiff cock under Lyal's slobbery nose -- as it'd been digging in the gator's wet balls. The Southerner took it in his maw, but then Gath unexpectedly pulled him in, and deep. Lyal gurgled meekly, choking and gagging until his eyes watered along the sides of his snout, utterly face-fucked. It was warm and snug for Gath's dick in the laboring throat. Too soon, in his opinion, he released Lyal, who withdrew with adorably muted coughing, trying to disturb his master's pleasure as little as he could. Gath wiped the stretchy mucous strands on his erection into Lyal's face, over his muzzle and his brows, held the docile snout firmly with both hands, and with a thin opening in his wide jaws, dropped a single toothy kiss on his nose, and patted his head.

"You're doing excellent."

Lyal's eyes were already watery, but had they not been, they would've been at the praise. He crawled boldly up on his master for a loving puppy hug, and Gath let him, tilting his head for Lyal to wedge his chin tight between his master's neck and shoulder. The soft, black sides were caressed by attentive claws.

"Sweet thing. Leaf says you don't feel so good these days. He imperiously demanded that I care for you better."

Lyal backed out of his nest on Gath's shoulder with a horrified air, and darted a glare to Leaf. Leaf stared back to Gath, just as horrified. The reptile stroked Lyal's nape reassuringly.

"See this, Leaf? Maybe I do have a sense of humor after all."

Gath chuckled.

"No, he didn't," he corrected. "He suggested very politely that it might be good if I talked to you. You do seem sullen, of late. What's wrong?"

-- It's nothing at all-

-- Talk, ordered Gath without patience.

Lyal squirmed, remorseful that he wasn't completely happy for his master.

-- I want to know if you're going to sell me, now that you have Leaf.

Gath was unimpressed. He raised a brow in disbelief.

-- No, I'm not, and you know that. That's not bothering you. You will be honest to your master!

Straight away, Lyal knew his master was right. The potent shame of being found out and dragged to the light caused him to double down.

-- I am! You will sell me, and that's why you didn't warn me that you were planning to buy a new slave!

Gath pointed a finger to the furry snout.

-- Are you calling your master a liar? Are you seriously going to insult me when we both know I'm right? Normally, you'd get slapped for this, and the only reason I'm sparing you this once is because you've been such a good boy. Do you want to ruin this?

Lyal broke down, and shook his head in silence.

"Talk. The truth."

-- I don't want to share you.

It'd been a whisper, but like a dam giving way to the powerful flow of nature, the first crack immediately preceded the collapse.

"I don't want to share you!" Lyal repeated, crestfallen. "I'm sorry, Leaf."

He paused, and yelled.

"I don't want to be second! Leaf is so amazing, and kind! I don't want to be less in your eyes! I don't want things to change."

Gath cuddled his slave, and let him settle down.

-- You can't share me, Lyal. I'm not yours. Things will change. You're not my only slave anymore, but you don't have to be first or second. This isn't a loss. You will be my wonderful property, serving your master at your best just like before, and so will Leaf. I won't value, or love you any less.

Lyal listened attentively, yet his gloom lingered. He knew that Leaf would be a great source of joy for his master, and this was good, but it was grueling to accept that he wouldn't be the only one, now. That maybe -- probably even -- in some secret unspoken way, he might become the second slave, for Gath, in time. His master was right, though. Even if he did eventually love Leaf more, it didn't have to mean that he'd love Lyal less. Lyal felt selfish. If he'd been a better slave, like Leaf, he'd be rejoicing that his master found new pleasure.

In an extraordinary treat, Gath fondled his slave's penis, pressing its head firmly but pleasingly between his fingers and thumb until it slid out of its skin wrapping. Lyal speedily grew aroused, despite the fact that he'd already found much satisfaction with Leaf, earlier. Having his master grant _him_pleasure was enthralling!

"You don't have to view this change in such negative light. Think of what you will gain," continued Gath.

Him?

"You have someone to help with the chores, now. Isn't that more fun?"

Lyal supposed it was okay, since his master was encouraging it, to think of himself a little. It wasn't selfish if it pleased his master as well, and it was definitely true that he had much more free time since Leaf's arrival. Free time itself was also considerably improved with someone to share it. Lyal blushed under his fur as he thought of Leaf's body, and of how playful and safe he felt in the buck's presence.

"And don't tell me you'll miss being alone for months on end when I leave on campaign."

Lyal shook to his core. How could he have failed to consider that? No more campaign loneliness! He would have Leaf! Leaf would be there, with him, by his side, the entire time! Not only did it not sound as bad, but it sounded positively marvelous! No more campaign loneliness, ever!

"As for the reason why I provided no warning in advance, before buying Leaf, it's because I didn't know. Merron pretty much forced my hand. It was a political issue concerning the manner in which my military service was to be rewarded. I didn't hide anything."

Gath looked at Leaf, shackled to the wall. The bitterness with which he'd said that last part affected his poor stag, so he added:

"I'm rather glad he did, though."

Many emotions swirled in Lyal. To calm down, he set himself to lapping at his master's upright dick, tasting it, pushing against it with his tongue, but it seemed that something was missing. He couldn't stop thinking about Leaf, condemned to watch them from his cold steel, and about how his arrival would change things, and how this change didn't have to be bad. It seemed important to prove it to himself. He didn't want to fear that change anymore. He wanted to challenge it, to play with it. He suddenly had an idea. A bold idea. An idea worthy of Leaf himself!

With a luscious lick, Lyal abruptly interrupted his oral service, and met his master's eyes with mock apology.

-- I'm not sure I'm doing this right.

He glanced at Leaf.

"Maybe I need some help."

Gath was confused.

-- What?

-- Please, master, allow me to please you better by... consulting with my colleague about some technical points.

Gath being Gath, he wasn't sure he liked where this was going.

-- What are you pulling, Lyal?

-- I'd like you to relax here, master, while I fetch Leaf, with your permission.

Despite his words, Lyal didn't wait for permission, and moved as if it'd been implicit in Gath's silence. He fetched the key on the night table, and unlocked Leaf, who appeared quite puzzled as well, but followed obediently when Lyal tugged his collar. He climbed on the bed with Leaf in tow. With open hands, he designated the gator's mighty erection.

"How would you attend to this, Leaf?"

Leaf caught on, and grinned impishly. He prostrated himself on his knees, over Gath's left leg, his face aligned low with the reptile cock. He responded with an absurd, scholarly tone.

-- Well, I would proceed like so, my dear.

Leaf's thick, strong pink tongue came out of his muzzle. Placing his hand behind Gath's rock-like sex to keep it in place, he gave the left side of the wide cock a forceful lap from base to tip. A burning shiver ran from Gath's inflated bulb to his head at this wild, wet friction.

-- Ah! he gasped, grabbing the back of the buck's skull.

Lyal adopted the exact same position, bending over the reptile's right leg.

-- Will that really suffice, though? How about this?

The canine's thin, agile red tongue tickled a larger surface on the right side of the dick, with a much slower motion. The cock twitched, enfolded into the humid flesh. Saliva ran down the member.

-- Damn, breathed Gath, also gripping Lyal's nape.

-- You doubt me Lyal?

The buck enveloped the end of Gath's manhood with his mouth, and slurped at it upward, adding even more spittle. Lyal didn't bother to wait, and assaulted what he could reach, mouthing at the base, taking in their mixed dribbles, and creating new ones along Gath's balls. Then, coordinated, they each took their side, and squeezed the shaft between them with licks and nudges of their noses.

At this point, Gath was sure he liked where this was going. His ecstasy was escalating fast. He knew he wouldn't be able to contain it for long, so he assumed control of his submissive little studs, guiding them toward his orgasm. Leaf was made to taste his sack, and engaged in shallow nibbles onto his scrotum. Lyal swallowed his cock again, until he was so deep that his wet snout met with Leaf's, and a tiny saliva strand formed. After a few seconds, he exchanged their places; Lyal received testicle heating duty while Leaf was forced to gulp his length.

All of that was too much for Gath. He pulled them both up, and pressed their muzzles together to his bulging tip, utterly beyond the edge. He could barely speak, much less think, as his searing climax began.

-- Swallow, he commanded to no one in particular.

They fought for it. It did also make a kind of mess, but they were never punished.