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What the hell was I doing here?

That was all I could think as the gray-stone mansion revealed itself in a clearing in the woods below the Lift-Copter. It looked like an old movie set, at least that's what everyone who grew up before the occupation said about it, but growing up under the Duke's yoke, you saw it as a symbol of Alien rule over the continent.

And I was heading there.

It's a good chance to get new business, I reassured myself as my finger scratched at the 'mole' on my cheek, Hundreds of rich aliens. No doubt a few of them have IT work for me. Gotta make money off this trend while it's big.

To my right, I heard a heavy yawn and peering towards it I saw a row of sharp teeth with long fangs at the end of them. With one big exhale, the jaws slammed shut and I saw the familiar, black-muzzled face of my benefactor. He shifted his brown eyes towards me, “Nervous, Nate?"

“I'm fine," I said, looking out the window towards the approaching mansion.

“You don't look it," I felt something wet brush my ear and heard two heavy sniffs, “Or smell it."

I froze. This was part of what I was dreading. Argus seemed to have some sort of an interest in me and I wanted nothing of it. At the same time, he was a powerful Sirian. Between meeting him and going to the party, I looked him up and found that not only did he own a sizable amount of Earth real-estate and rentals, he was good friends with the Duke and had long been trying to tie his family to his.

Suffice to say, if he wanted me he could have me, whether I wanted it or not.

So I just froze.

“You seem..." he sniffed again, nuzzling his nose against my neck, “Uncomfortable. This is not normal for humans, isn't it?"

“No," I muttered, scooting to the left away from him, “We don't do that, it's...inappropriate."

“Yes, I know."

“So, then why did you…?"

“This is an Imperial party and I'm afraid you're going to have to get used to some of our customs. Whether Regulian, Lupiad, Sirian, Vulpeculan, or...well, almost any species except for Human; we greet each other this way," he said, grabbed me by the shoulder and pushing my face to his with a clawed finger, “Let me show you how. We put our hands on our shoulders..."

Before I could, he grabbed my hands and placed them on the shoulder of his black, formal robes. He then returned his hands to mine.

“Then we lean forward to the right..." he leaned forward, rubbing his muzzle against my cheek. I swallowed as I realized he touching the bug that the rebels planted on me, “And now we smell each other. Quickly."

I felt him sniff quickly against my neck. I did nothing.

Chuckling, he whispered into my ear, “I'm not letting you go until you show me you can do it. And if you don't...then I can teach you what prolonging this greeting means in Imperial culture."

I took a quick breath, inhaling the light musky scent of his thick, tanned coat.

“Hm. Now we pull away," he said, slightly disappointed but pulling back, “And now we let go."

I brought my hands back and turned back to the window. We had shot past the mansion and the Lift-Copter began to adjust its impulse jets to a hover. Below us, a circle of twinkling red and white lights revealed a landing pad.

The pilot, a Sirian like Argus, but looking more like a Doberman than a German Shepherd, flicked on his communications and said something in Sirian, likely a landing request. It must have been approved because the Lift-Copter began descending.

“Prolonging the formal greeting is an invitation to intimacy in case I was not obvious enough," Argus muttered, “I would not recommend lingering during it unless you want to attract a companion for the night. In a less...decadent setting, they would likely understand you do not know the custom but during an event such as this...well, there are more than a few nobles who would be...fascinated, by an exotic species, so to speak."

It was a bit ironic, hearing that coming from the Sirian who was nearly slobbering over my neck mere seconds ago.

“If you get uncomfortable, just head to your room. It's in your name. Just ask one of the servants and they'll direct you."

The landing was surprisingly smooth. I had ridden in a pre-occupation helicopter before, but the Lift-Copter did not so much as quiver before it landed on the pad. Argus swung the door open and I followed him out.

Already the rumors about the Duke's parties revealed themselves to have a grain of truth to them. Greeting us on the pad were a male and female Sirian; both having long-furred black coats with white bellies and muzzles. Both were completely naked, save for a long, silk loincloth for modesty and plain iron collars around their necks. They bowed and stepped towards us, the male across from me and the female partnering with Argus.

“On behalf of His Grace, Duke Horith, we welcome you," they greeted us in Regulian, which I could understand to an extent; it was their written language that was the challenge.

Swallowing, I put my hands on the male's heavily furred shoulders, stood on my toes and leaned to the right against his muzzle, taking a quick gasp of his scent, perfumed with a floral scent of some kind, and retracted.

The Sirian slave was staring agape back at me with his pale blue eyes. I looked to the right and the female had an equally shocked look on her face while Argus was merely slightly uncomfortable.

“He does not understand appropriate greetings. Humans do things differently."

The surprise quickly drained from their face and once again they showed their commitment to their duty. With their paws, they motioned us towards the mansion.

“This way, Lords."

They slowly walked towards the mansion, white-tipped tails peeking out from behind their loin-cloths, swishing from side to side. Argus put a paw on my chest, stopping me from following them.

“You don't greet the help that way," he whispered, “If they have a collar, don't do it."

“Why not?"

“Because they're slaves. It's demeaning and as a Human, you need to save face here as much as you can," he paused, clearing his throat, “It also sends a message to them that you want them to privately service you."

“I was under the impression that at the Duke's parties..."

“Not all of them. There's a system, usually it's the color of their collar, not all of them are for your pleasure, some of them have work to do. Just wait until the Duke introduces the party before you decide to experiment with handsome, younger Sirians."

He finished the sentence with a slight tinge of bitterness and released his grip. We followed the slaves.

“They're from your planet; they're also Sirian, right?"

“Yes."

“Don't you feel a little strange? Talking down to them as if they weren't your kind?"

“They're from a very different part of my planet and they're slaves. Sirians vary greatly, in case you have not noticed," Argus shrugged, “It doesn't matter how powerful your race is in the Empire, there will always be those that are fit to be property and nothing more. There's even Regulian slaves owned by Sirians and Lupiads; the Imperial family doesn't play favorites."

Grunting, I adjusted my tie.

“You don't seem to agree."

“Not exactly a fan of this system."

“It's a fact of life and the system has been wildly successful on countless planets," he said, “And I would keep your objections to yourself while here. For your own good."

I certainly didn't like slavery and lots of other things the Empire brought with it, but at the same time I was intent on making the best of this party and rocking the boat would certainly not help me or anyone else.

Especially when there was money to be made. Besides, if I got arrested for sedition they'd probably take a closer look at the mole on my cheek and that would probably extend my sentence slightly.

Inside, we found ourselves in a grand party hall with ornate, gilded decorations on the walls. Tables were set up all over, each one piled high with delicacies both Terran or otherwise. Nobles from across the galaxy, dressed in brightly colored formal robes, mingled while nearly nude slaves rushed around with drinks and other orders. There wasn't a single public orgy or display of unusual fetishes, aside from slaves engaging in exhibitionism, but they didn't really have a choice in that matter. In some ways it was disappointing. The rumors certainly had to be exaggerated.

Argus waved at a Regulian sitting by himself at a table. The Lion-like man stood, his golden, ceremonial armor shining as he did, and took Argus by the shoulder, sniffed, and greeted each other.

“Prince Litho, allow me to introduce Nate."

A bit taken aback by this revelation, I still managed to find my courage and step towards the Prince. Despite him being significantly taller and more massive than me, I managed to give him the traditional greeting. I could have sworn, while his head (which was big enough to bite my own off) was against mine, I heard the slightest hint of a purr.

“Your Grace, it is a pleasure to meet you," I bowed politely.

“Likewise," the Regulian prince said with a heavy growl to his accent, “How, may I ask, did you two become acquainted?"

“Nate is a computer technician. He repaired a spectacular antique Human computer that I came into possession of."

“Fascinating!" he exclaimed. We took our seats at the table and almost instantly, a Vulpeculan servant filled our glasses with a wine of some kind. Likely Regulian, “Was there anything of note on the device?"

“Quite," Argus said, taking a sip of his drink, “A collection of poems written by the original owner."

“A real treasure, to be sure," Litho nodded, running a massive paw through his heavy mane. He turned to me, locking his golden eyes with mine, “Perhaps I might have work for you while I'm here."

“I've always got time for more work, your Grace."

“Litho. Call me Litho, please."

“Very well, Litho," I said, swallowing.

Something caught Argus's eye and he stood abruptly, “Pardon me, but I must make a few introductions. I will return shortly."

With that, the Sirian left, leaving me sitting across from the Prince. If I remembered correctly, he was fifth in line for the inheritance and an experienced commander. Indeed, he took part in the battle for Earth, before our unconditional surrender. A man like that was very powerful and it didn't help that he would not stop staring at me with his intense yellow eyes. Regardless, he seemed pleasant enough; I had to remind myself that this was the same person who did all those horrible things to the Captain.

“You and him, Argus that is," he said, not breaking his gaze, “Are you his?"

“His?"

“Damn. My English is good but..."

“I can speak some Regulian. If you prefer we can..."

“No, I insist. I can speak it fine, butsometimes there are words that give me problems," he cleared his throat, “Are you his fuck-boy?"

I nearly choked on the wine when I heard that. Weak though the wine was, it still burned my lungs a little bit. In response, between chokes, I shook my head.

“Ah, but you have his scent?"

“He, uh, showed me how to do the formal greeting."

“Really now? His scent says otherwise."

“I don't know what you're talking about."

“Really?"

“I don't swing that way."

“Swing?" he frowned in confusion, “What...does that mean?"

A klaxon of horns rang out, preventing me from making any sort of a reply. I scanned the room, locking onto what everyone else was focusing on, a lone Vulpeculan in an immaculate burgundy dress shirt with matching pants atop a stage with a curtain backing, muzzle hovering over a microphone. His red fur was neatly brushed and shimmered under the bright lights of the ballroom. It was clear that he was no ordinary Vulpeculan slave, as most of them on Earth were, but was in fact Yir, the Duke's Prime Minister. The austere authoritarian that complimented the Duke's hedonistic libertine lifestyle.

“Greetings, nobles and esteemed guests. I hope your trip into the mountains of Columbia was enjoyable," he paused, frowning as he scanned the crowd, almost seeming to scowl as his yellow eyes passed over me, “It would seem you are all eager to meet the master of the house. Very well, I shall not bore you with the formalities. Duke Horith of North America!"

Heavy footsteps thudded behind me and a tall Lupiad with pure, flowing white fur passed my table and headed towards the stage. He wore a golden breastplate atop blue, silk robes through which his tail escaped.

Hopping on the stage, he casually snatched the microphone from the Prime Minister, flashing him a smile before turning to the audience. He brought his hand to his broad muzzle and coughed.

“I hope everyone is enjoying themselves."

Laughter and claps followed.

“Hm, we've got food, drink, and great people in this wonderful manor. But I think we're missing something..."

Once again, the crowd went wild. Someone shouted, “Bring it out!"

“Bring what out?"

Hot breath caressed my ear and Litho whispered, “He does this every time."

The Duke grinned, flashing his pearly white fangs, “Well, then, I guess I should stop playing coy. Bring them out!"

With that, the curtain peeled revealing, and even then, preferring humans, a selection of the most incredible-looking women (And men) from distant worlds. Slender Vulpeculans, tall Lupiads, proud Regulians, and graceful Sirians, among countless others I could not name. All of them were naked, save for a silk loincloth and a golden collar.

“For those of you who do not know the rules," he paused, flashing his golden eyes in my direction. I guess I stood out, “If they have a collar of gold, they cannot say no. If they have a collar of steel, they may not be touched."

The audience murmured and growled with pent-up lust. I even saw a few reaching under their robes or in their pants, stroking themselves in preparation. It looks like I was about to find out just how hedonistic these parties got.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Get on with it!" the Duke shouted, grabbing an orange Vulpeculan, twirling her around and rubbing his nose against hers. Reaching under her collar with his claws, he gently pulled her off the stage and into the crowd. Raising his muzzle, he made one last announcement, “Oh, and remember! You may enjoy yourself with as many of them as you like, but take them to your room! No sex in the halls!"

Chairs squeaked as the party-goers stood up, almost at the same time. The slaves scattered into the crowd, almost instantly pairing up with nobles without so much a word.

“Madness, isn't it?" Litho whispered.

“A little."

“Are you...not going to get one?"

There was a temptation. They were...incredible, each one of them. But they surely weren't here because they wanted to be and that felt a little depressing.

“I don't know."

“Hm, a wager then, Nate?" he asked with a slight growl.

This did not sound good.

Hesitating, I replied, “What kind of wager?"

“If you can find a partner for the evening and take them to your room, I will give my friends and family a recommendation for your business."

“Is that it?" I asked, slightly confused, “They're not really in a position to say no."

“It might be difficult for a human," he muttered, motioning to the crowd, “And they're all pairing up very fast."

“And if I can't find one?"

He withdrew his hand, twirling a golden collar on his claw.

My face went white.

“You've gone pale. What does that mean for Humans?" he shook his head, a smile forming on his heavy face, “The ones I had during the war did the same. It is...cute."

“I won't..."

“I am not giving you a choice. I am giving you a chance," he pushed the rim of the collar up against my neck, “Unless you give up? We can have more time together then."

“You could take...how do I know you'll..."

“Hold my end of the bargain? Because that's what I do. I wouldn't play this game with you if I weren't willing to lose."

“I'll..."

“Tell someone? Who? The Duke? Argus?" he grinned, leaning in uncomfortably close to me with his face. It as a little concerning as his jaws looked big enough to fit my head, “I outrank both of them, though they could hide you away but I honestly doubt the Duke would care and Argus...well, he'd probably make his own deal with you and you'd end up with a collar one way or another."

“You can't..."

“If I were you, I'd get mingling," he caressed my cheek with his leathery palm. His nose brushed against mine, sending chills down my spine, “Or else I'll claim my prize early."

I pulled back, nearly shoving my chair to the ground while stumbling to my feet.

“And don't try to hide," he tapped his large nose with a claw, “I'll track you down."

I left the table. Chest heaving in a panic as I brushed shoulders with the elite.

What do I do? What do I do? They're pairing off so fast. Maybe, maybe I should find Argus, he'll help me out and he'd be...maybe he'd be...no," I gagged, “No, I can't do that. But I can't let that lion have his way, he probably won't let go once he has me either and then...oh god…

Swallowing, I tried to center myself. I had to do this. Now.

A Sirian slave, looking much like the black and white ones on the roof, looked at me. I looked at her collar. Gold.

I approached her...