No one would have recognized the man reclining on the low settee. not because his looks were that different, although his blond hair was a bit longer and lighter than it had been six months ago. However, the blue eyes were the same as was the lower lip that had engendered so much teasing. What would make him unrecognizable to former friends and colleagues was the WAY he reclined. His pose was nothing short of suggestive, in an unconscious manner. He exuded sexuality. The effect was enhanced by the form-fitting tunic, opened at the chest in a soft golden sheer fabric. It ended in a kilted skirt that just barely gave a hint of modesty. The tunic clung and molded to the muscled shoulders and showed his chest and abs to their best. Long legs were bare, as were his feet, the toenails gilded in platinum. He was still, the only movement his breathing. Almost like an artist’s model, he waited. The sunlight caught in his hair, its dying rays gilding the fair strands to molten gold. It also shone with blinding white brilliance on the half-inch platinum collar around his throat. The collar was matched by twin bracelets and anklets. Their look deceptive for this was no ordinary metal but shaitar, the living metal and as such programmed so that only one man could release it. The jewelry marked his status, as his very sultriness could not. He was a slave and not just any slave but arkesh. The very word, if one could translate it, meant whore. That was what he was, a well trained whore. There was a dual purpose to the collar ensemble; one that only the wearer and the owner would know. They were capable of being used as restraints in any manner of combination, guaranteed to enhance either pleasure or pain dependent upon the master’s desire. Arkesh, for that was the only name he now knew, lived for only one purpose to please his master. It mattered not to him how his master wished his pleasure, be it in gentleness or in domination. There was no act, no outlet for the passions that he wouldn't undertake. His conditioning was too deeply engrained on his psyche. Pleasure or pain, all that mattered was his master's wish. He knew only one master and that was the Keltasch Tolkar Kiere. He lived only for Kiere's pleasure. Indeed, had any of his former friends met him now, they would be hard pressed to find any of the quiet, somewhat shy Dr. Jackson they had known and worked with. Six months of intensive conditioning, along with the ample use of the yaeta flower had buried his former persona so far in his psyche, that he could not recall being anything other than what he was. As he waited now for his master's return, he could not help a tremor of desire. His master had been summoned by the Owner, to greet visiting keltasch prior to the Arena games. This was something that had happened many times in the past and would happen many more times in the future. It would that was until his beloved Kiere was defeated in the games, and then Arkesh would pass to another until his usefulness was no more. It was always thus for the arkesi, to be passed from master to master until they were replaced by younger men. Arkesh shuddered at the thought of having someone other than Kiere touch him. It filled him with fear and loathing. This day before Kiere had left their apartments in the Garrison, he had told Arkesh to prepare himself. He had also tossed a bottle of yaeta oil at him, meaning for Arkesh to use it. He had trembled as he placed the volatile oil in the syringe kept for that purpose alone. Yaeta, while in spice form or in its natural flower was relatively harmless, a mild aphrodisiac. However, in the oil, it was a dangerous substance. To be used only with caution. Swallowed it gave a painful, protracted death. Used as he used it now, in a syringe as an enema, it had the defining property of tightening his tissues to the point of being painful, nothing but violence would broach those tissues now. It also, being caustic, brought the blood to the surface, guaranteeing that he would bleed. The caustic properties also sensitized the tissues, making them more delicate so that even the barest touch would cause excruciating pain. Kiere wished him to scream, and he wished him to feel him throughout the competitions during the upcoming festivals. The use of yaeta oil would guarantee that Arkesh would be unable to do anything but. He bit back a moan at the thought. He had become aroused when he caught the vial, and the thought of what Kiere intended only intensified his arousal. The burn of the oil was still sharp in his gut, he had made certain it went deep; a modification of the syringe guaranteed it. He had placed a thong around the hilt and inserted it as far as his finger could reach, once there, he used a slender wand, pushing it to the point of pain then sat hard to depress the plunger. The result was the oil coating him deeper than Kiere had gone before. To ensure the maximum effect, Arkesh had taken another precaution to ensure the oil remained until absorbed by his body. Before he had learned total control, Kiere had used a shaitar chain wrapped around his cock and balls to prevent him from coming. Now Arkesh used it for another purpose. He had slipped the loop around the base of his cock, gently wound a length of the chain around his balls, pulling them against each other, then dividing the heavy sacks with it, he then laid on the settee and pulled the chain snug. The shaitar reacted tightening almost painfully against his genitals; it adjusted to the feel of flesh and tingled warmly in pleasure. The tightness increased to the point just before pain, causing his now erect cock to stand straight with his balls held firmly in place. This done, Arkesh pulled on the thong holding the syringe in place, hissing as the oil followed course burning it’s way through his body. Quickly before it reached the opening, he balled the remainder of the chain in his hand, the shaitar responded to his desire and changed from chain to a heavy weight. He groaned and pushed the ball into himself, relaxing to allow to it penetrate easily. The burn yaeta reached the now blocked entrance to his body, and the shaitar responded to the presence of the oil. Arkesh groaned as the now hot metal filled him, the shaitar’s response to warm to the caustic oil. He tensed his muscles around it, luxuriating in the sensation. The shaitar would remain where it had been placed until Kiere commanded its next action. Arkesh may be able to use it as he had, but he could do no more with it. He shivered as he felt his body reacting to the oil. He stretched slightly, increasing the internal stimulation. His cock throbbed with the pounding of his blood and his balls ached with the restraint. Lying there, he frowned slightly, and then he tugged on the chain prompting it to contract painfully. It still wasn’t quite right, thinking hard for a moment, he remembered the look in Kiere’s eyes as he had tossed the bottle of oil to him. He knew what the mood would be once this banquet was over, and biting his lower lip, he wondered if he dared. Nodding to himself, he stroked the edge of the chain with a fingernail, the response was immediate. The edge bit deeply into his flesh becoming sharp instead of dull and he groaned softly, pulling it tighter still. As any other time before a bout of Arena Games, Kiere would be wishing to slake the bloodlust before going into the arena. The only way he could do that would be with Arkesh and Arkesh knew that for his master to see him uncomfortable would intensify his arousal. Something that Arkesh wanted desperately. He ran his finger over the chain, feeling a slight wetness where its edge bit into his arousal. He lifted his finger to see the slight smear of blood on the tip. Yes, this would please Kiere. He stood and walked over to the viewing glass on the wall to see if he had missed anything. The sunlight, though rapidly fading, shed just enough light that he could see clearly without the need of lamps. He fussed for a second over the lay of the tunic against his chest, making it smoother than it had been. The skirt fell just below his balls, not truly a covering for modesty but more an effort to tease. His arousal made the skirt a bit tighter than usual, and left a definite bulge, but that wouldn’t be amiss. Indeed had there not been one, Kiere would have been displeased. He lifted the skirt to view his genitals. The chain sank into the flesh in a most satisfactory manner, causing both areas to darken into a deep red. He turned to the side for a moment to see how the drape would look as he let the skirt fall back. Yes, he was pleased. "You have been summoned." a house slave spoke from the doorway. Arkesh turned languidly, not allowing the lower caste slave to see his relief and excitement. He strolled to the door, his walk defiantly provocative. It never hurt to flaunt what he had, he thought, when it came to establishing his place in the hierarchy of slavery. Kiere was bored. The keltasch all were bragging incessantly about past Games and their many victories. All, of course, were victorious; otherwise, they wouldn't be sitting here. He, himself had fought too long to be impressed by such braggadocio, only time would give truth or falsehood to their bragging. He listened with half an ear and made the appropriate responses in the right places, biding his time until his game could begin. His companions were all accompanied by their arkesi, and he had amused himself briefly by viewing them and their attributes. He was singularly unimpressed by anything on display. And on display, it was indeed. Many were dressed in only a bare minimum of cloth, while others were blatantly naked. None appealed to his taste; being spoiled as he was by the beauty he had available to him. Some of the warriors sought to impress their rivals by displays of their arkesi's prowess in various areas. Such displays only bored him even more. None of the flesh attending could come close to the talent his Arkesh held in his lissome form. He made a mental promise that should he win any of the attending, he would see them all sent off to the slave market. Idly, his gaze wandered to the area reserved for the Owners. Carefully he observed them, noting that he recognized a few from previous Games. He took pains that no one would notice his observation for it was highly discouraged. While a keltasch fought and died for his Owner, he had not the right to evince any curiosity in said Owner. A subtle shift in the conversation around him caught at his attention. Silence slowly fell as all eyes turned to a point just beyond his shoulder. It was a mark of his confidence that he had placed his back to the only door; not false confidence, he knew the slaves at the door, knew that they were in fear of retaliation should anything happen to him. The heavy aroma of arousal smote his nose. Ahhh, he thought. Arkesh. Arkesh dropped gracefully to his knees and touched his forehead to the floor beside Kiere. Kiere didn't acknowledge his slave's presence other than to lay a possessive hand on the bent back. He was pleased to note that the guests were craning their heads to get a glimpse of the beauty kneeling at his side. Gently he drummed his nails on the back, the Shaitar claws barely pricking the gilt cloth of the tunic. He leaned forward to pluck a piece of fruit from the tray in front of him. His action bringing him slightly over Arkesh and allowing him to catch the faint scent of yaeta. His passion flared for the moment at the thought of the pain that the slave must have felt on the long walk from the garrison. He was pleased, very pleased. To show his appreciation he flexed his forefinger, causing the imbedded shaitar to expand into a razor sharp tip. With this, he scraped gently down the exposed nape and then flicked the nail behind Arkesh’s ear. A subtle shiver ran through the supine form and he forced back a lazy smile. His Arkesh was indeed a magnificent creature. The words, his Arkesh, filled him with warmth and pride. He knew that Arkesh was indeed his, and would only serve him. Contempt for the lusting fools around the table filled his soul. They could lust and dream all they wished, but none would ever claim this jewel at his side. Even should he fall in the Arena, their prize would be denied. He thought of the vial of yaeta oil that Arkesh had begged from him. The vial that was now hidden in their apartments. He knew what use that vial would be put to should he fall. He tapped the nape bent before him, signaling his permission to rise. Arkesh did so gracefully, he noted pleased, that the slave kept his face turned to the floor. He plucked another piece of fruit from the tray in front of him, taking care to select one that he knew Arkesh liked. He offered the piece in his claw tips by placing it against the full lower lip. Arkesh ran his tongue gently over the piece and by extension the dangerous tips holding it. Kiere stifled a grin at the reactions around the table. Conversation had restarted but now it faltered at the display Arkesh was putting on. The slave was licking the juice from the fruit in gentle hesitant laps of his pink tongue. He took great care in cleaning it from the shaitar claws as well. Finally, he wrapped his lips around it and sucked it into his mouth. The warm heat traveled into Kiere’s consciousness as the shaitar responded to the stimulation. His hand tingled and he felt the answering tingle in his groin. Arkesh nipped just as gently on the claw tips as he pulled his fingers out of that heat. He ran a tip over the full lower lip scratching it lightly as he did so. Not enough to bring blood but enough to leave a light pink mark. He could hear the soft groans of the watching warriors around the table. His attention was split between the sensuous figure at his side and the reactions of those at the table. “So, this is the fabled Arkesh.” The voice was low but the lust unmistakable. Nonchalant, he turned his attention to the speaker. Ryouk was leaning forward to get a better look at Arkesh. There was lust in the warrior’s face and as his eyes traveled over the supple figure, Kiere had to stifle a growl of anger. “He is as beautiful as rumor said. A prize worthy of a true warrior.” The challenge was there as was the sneer. “He will serve me well after the games. I can hardly wait to hear him scream as I take him.” Arkesh stiffened at the words, the slight flinch evident only to Kiere. He responded by placing his finger under the slave’s chin and turning his face up to his. The blue eyes were wide and he could read the fear in them. He ran a claw over the full lower lip again, this time drawing a small line of blood with the tip. He bent his head and lapped the precious fluid from golden skin. He could feel Arkesh respond, the tense frame relaxing at the unspoken promise. He sucked on the lip, bringing more blood to the surface and could feel Arkesh responding, the increase in his heartbeat and the heat rising from his restrained erection feeding Kiere’s passion. With a growl, he latched his teeth into the lip and bit hard. A spurt of blood was his reward as he mauled the flesh in his teeth. A moan of pleasure from Arkesh coupled with the sharp scent of arousal from the watching audience, pulled him back from taking his slave right then. He leaned back allowing Arkesh to resume his previous position. The slave sat perfectly still, ignoring the trickle of ruby blood from his lip. “I cannot wait to taste him, Kiere. Take care not to use him to harshly this last time. I would be most upset if I had to wait.” Ryouk chuckled at his own wit. “I do not think that is something you will have to be concerned about Ryouk.” Kiere speared a piece of meat from the tray and wiped it gently across the abused lip. “This is as close to him as you will ever come.” He tossed the piece of meat down the table where it landed in front of Ryouk. Before the stunned challenger could react, Kiere stood. “It is late, and the Games begin early. Sleep well and wake.” He turned on his heel and strode to the door. Arkesh followed gracefully, head bent. Kiere didn’t speak as they left the banquet hall, but that was not unusual. Arkesh could see that something had upset his master, and he was afraid that it had been his reaction to the warrior Ryouk. He knew that his reaction had been out of line, a good slave would not have reacted. He had shamed his master in front of his peers. His eyes threatened tears and his shoulders slumped. Kiere was upset and it was his doing. He was not worthy of his master. Kiere was still upset when they reached the apartments that were his refuge. He crossed the spacious living area to stand in front of the night dark windows. He heard Arkesh speak softly to the waiting house slave, requesting a cool beverage for his master and also that a warm bath be drawn to help relieve his master’s tension. He could hear the tremor in the soft voice and he closed his eyes against the answering pain in his heart. He knew that Arkesh blamed himself for Kiere’s sudden foul temper. “Arkesh.” He spoke. Immediately, Arkesh was at his side, kneeling, forehead on the floor. He could see the minute shivers in the slender muscled body as Arkesh waited his displeasure. He bent on one knee beside his slave and tapped him on the nape. Arkesh rose, his eyes still trained on the floor. “You have done nothing wrong Arkesh.” “I have displeased you, Tolkar.” The soft voice whispered in despair. “I have brought dishonor on you in front of your enemy.” “Arkesh, how could you dishonor me, hm?” he raised the chin gently. His eyes were warm on the face he could now see. He was genuinely puzzled. “I showed fear, Master.” The words were even softer if that were possible. There was distress in those blue eyes. “What gave you that fear?” he asked. “Was it the fear of being claimed by another?” “NO!” Arkesh protested. He immediately tempered his voice. “I do not presume to fear for myself. My fear was for you.” “For me, Arkesh? Ryouk is no challenge to be feared. Why would you fear for me?” He ran the back of his knuckle over the still bleeding lip, soothing the flesh with his touch. Arkesh leaned into the caress slightly. He could not help himself, he craved any touch from Kiere. “I fear losing you…” Arkesh whispered. He dropped his eyes having spoken aloud his darkest fear. Kiere groaned and closed his eyes, the words wrenching his heart. He took gentle possession of Arkesh’s hand and raised it to his own chest. He entwined their fingers carefully and pressed them into his flesh. “Until my last breath, my Arkesh.” He said the forbidden words that bound him to the slave with every ounce of feeling he had. “And with the last beat of my heart.”