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“Ctirad.  Come on, kitten, come back to me.”  The voice was gentle.  Ctirad blinked.  He had – he had dozed a bit, hadn’t he?  He’d floated on the praise.  He cleared his throat and miawed carefully, a question, an indication that he was aware, what does my master want of me?

“That’s a good kitten.  Are you ready to be a boy, a person for me again?”

Was he ready?  No.  He started to shake his head and then looked up at his master’s face.  Was there a right answer?

“Answer honestly, Ctirad.”

He shook his head no, swallowing a little lump of worry.  He’d almost done the wrong thing.  He’d almost been bad.  He made a small noise he couldn’t quite control, deep in the back of his throat.

“It’s all right, kitten.  You’re being a very good boy, and I’m happy with you.  Come over to my couch, and you can be a good boy while I watch the news and handle some paperwork, all right?”

That was good.  He nodded a little bit, just enough to indicate his understanding, and slunk over to the couch as Timaios led him, tugged along by the leash.  If he could have purred, he would have.  His master was pleased with him, and his master liked him being a cat.  

He curled up on the couch where Timaios indicated, his head on his master’s lap, and settled in comfortably.  Timaios pulled over a lap desk and worked with his right hand on a laptop while the news played in the background.   His left hand trailed over Ctirad’s back and hair, his neck, back down his spine, and up again.

“Will you show me what you look like without your Mask?” he asked lazily after a while.

Ctirad looked up at him.  Was this a test?  No.  No, his expression was curious and that was it. Was it an order?  No.  It was – he was just checking?  Ctirad shook his head, barely moving it.

“Ah, not yet then?  That’s all right.  You’re a good kitty anyway.”  

Ctirad set his head back down and snuggled in.  It was all right. He didn’t know why it was all right, or how, but it was all right.  He’d be okay.

He floated in and out of a content drowse, basking in sensations that he hadn’t yet gotten used to: the way his Owner’s hands felt touching him, when he had pleased his Owner and would not be punished.  The way praise felt when it didn’t come with insults or blows or little knives and orders hidden in the praise.  The way if felt to relax in the presence of another person.

“…demolition paused today at the McCurdy building downtown when a group of protesters chained themselves to the historical monument.”

Ctirad leaned up and blinked at the news.  “Mirrrrp?” The McCurdy Building?

“What is it, kitten?”

Ctirad made a soft noise and ducked his head. Shit.  He was being a kitten now.  He wasn’t supposed to be paying attention to the news.  He was a good kitten, and good kittens didn’t speak.  He licked his lips and purred quietly, a rumble in the back of his throat. I’m a good kitten.  You like your kitten still, right?

“You’re not in trouble.  You’re a good boy, Ctirad.”  Timaios’ hand settled gently at the back of Ctirad’s neck.  “I need my good kitten to tell me what got his attention all of a sudden, all right?”

Ctirad nodded slowly, barely moving, wanting to press back into the hand for reassurance.

The fingers closed around the sides of his neck.  “Good boy.  Speak.”

Ctirad licked his lips.  “The McCurdy Building.  Ermenrich, he talked about that building a lot.  There’s supposed to be something – something inside it, I think, or under it.  We went in there once and he paced around a lot, but then he ordered me to forget most of it.”

“…That’s pretty shitty, but that’s good.  Tell me, Ctirad, how would you feel about having someone find those memories you were ordered to forget?”

“Um. From the feel of things, sir, they’d be there for a long time.”

“But would you mind?”

“I’d like my mind back.  Sir.  I mean.”  He ducked his head and looked at the couch, frozen.  Shit. He’d let himself get far too comfortable here, and there he was, saying things no good Kept ought to say.

Timaios’ hand was in his hair.  He didn’t move, didn’t lean towards the touch, couldn’t speak. Couldn’t apologize.

“I think you should have your mind back, Ctirad.  I think it never should have been taken from you.  You may speak at will now.”

Ctirad didn’t move.  “Sir?  My mind belongs to you.”

“That, well, that is a matter of some argument.  Yes, it does, we’ll go with that for the moment. But it pleases me to give it to you, because I have found that it does not work well to alter someone’s mind.  At best, you can rarely do what you were intending.  And at worst, you can seriously damage your target.  So: It is perfectly fine to want your mind back.  This is a good want, and one that I endorse.”

“Not gonna get used to that,” Ctirad muttered.  

“Get used to what?  To being encouraged to have wants?  It can take some time, I imagine.”

“But that and still not being bad, not being spoiled.  Gonna be tricky.”  He could have moved enough to look up.  He decided it was best not to.  “Sir.”

“Mmm.  Maybe I want you spoiled, hrrm, did you think of that?”

He was pretty sure Timaios was teasing.  He wasn’t, however, certain.  “Sir?”  This time he peeked up.

His owner was smiling at him.  “I want you to want things, and I want you to express those wants to me.  If you would like your mind back, that is a good thing. And I will have it done.”

Have it done. It finally sank in that Timaios wasn’t talking about doing it himself.  “Sir?”

“Timaios,” he corrected gently.

“Timaios?  Who?”

“Oh, yes.  That is important, isn’t it, when they’re going to be in your mind.  Sal?  My driver?  Nobody I employ has only one skill, you see.”

“Sal.”  He tasted the idea and nodded slowly.  “I would not mind Sal finding my memories.  I feel like a lot of them are gone.”  He shifted position, suddenly uncomfortable. “I shouldn’t – I shouldn’t have let him do that.  I shouldn’t have-”

“Easy, easy.  You couldn’t have stopped him.  And as for the rest, you were tricked fully and thoroughly, set up for it far too well.  It would almost impress me, that Ermenrich had planned that much, if he hadn’t done something so reprehensible with it.”

“Ermenrich is good at planning.  The problem is only that his plans are sometimes too much.  And he’s not always good at working around surprise elements.”  Ctirad ducked his head.  Something still felt wrong about criticizing his former owner, and something felt strange about praising him.

“That’s a good assessment.  Thank you.  So – do you think you’re up to having Sal look at you tonight, or would you rather wait?”

“It’s going to take a while to get used to that.”  He was hedging.  He knew it; he was fairly sure Timaios would know it, but he couldn’t bring himself to come up with an answer.

“I know.  But I’m going to keep doing it.  Shall I give you a little more time to come back from the kitten, first?”

“Please?  Maybe if I-”  Damnit.  He ducked his head and waited.

“Sit up, that’s a good idea.  Yes, come on.  It might be good to give yourself a little physical space, but you don’t have to.”

Ctirad sat up, moving a half a hand-width from Timaios, and pulled his legs up into a tailor’s seat, one knee barely bumping against his owner.  He closed his eyes for a moment and found some peace inside of him.

Quietness.  He had forgotten how much he missed quietness.  The TV was going, yes, but there was nothing he had to do and no feelings of disappointment pressing on him. “I think-” he offered after a moment, “I think I can handle Sal now, if it would please you, sir.”

“Some day, you are going to manage to say my name casually.  All right, I’ll call for Sal.”  There was the sound of a phone being picked up.  “Danny, send Sal up, if you would, and some finger foods.  We may be burning calories tonight.”

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He was startled and then terrified to find Timaios’ hand at the back of his neck.  He was going to be hauled off to a cage.  He was going to be locked away like the miserable bad thing that he was.  He was –

“Ctirad.  Look at me.”

He didn’t try to the fight the order.  He looked up, unable to control his expression and barely even thinking of trying. “Sir?”  A surge of misery struck him.  That was wrong, that wasn’t what he was supposed to call his master.  “Timaios?”

The hand was still on the back of his neck.  Timaios was crouched next to him, looking down at him.  “Ctirad.  My kitten.  Were you telling me you wanted to submit to me?  To kneel at my feet for dinner?”

“Yes?”  He fought against the misery and, once again, lost.  He lowered his head, only to find Timaios’ other hand on his chin, keeping him in position.  

“Ctirad.  Why?” Continue reading →

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By the time Shel deposited Ctirad back at the house with a pile of clothing, Ctirad wasn’t particularly sure if he felt more or less like himself than he had in ages.

He felt different, that much was for sure.  His head was swimming.  Shel had gotten him joking, laughing, and relaxed in a way he couldn’t remember ever being.

And now he was back in Timaios’ master suite, waiting for his master to arrive home.

It was like getting off the roller-coaster.  He felt like his legs were swaying under him.  

He knelt down on the floor and tried to find his calm place.  The pants moved strangely with him, and he thought about taking them off. Continue reading →

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This chapter features a lot of description that wanders around the edges of sex without describing penetration or intercourse..

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“Mm, Come on, lovely, you did wonderfully.” Their guests had been seen to the door, and now Timaios’ arm was around Ctirad’s shoulders. “You were a very good kitten for me. Thank you.”

Ctirad’s head was swimming. He normally had a head for alcohol, but there had been several bottles of wine, he hadn’t had anything of the sort in years, and now he was getting praised. “Thank you, sir. Thank you. I tried..”

“You did beautifully. Can you handle the stairs?”

“Of course. Could handle stairs dead-drunk and carrying three people.”

Oh, he probably shouldn’t have said that. He ducked his head and looked at his feet.

Timaios was laughing. Of course he was. This man laughed at everything.

“Good. Good boy. Come on, up with you. I’m going to pour you into bed and then we can think about more interesting things in the morning.”

Ctirad stumbled as a surge of guilt hit him. “m’ still awake, sir, can be interesting if you want to.” First he’d been too hungry and then he’d been too full and now he was too sleepy. He was seriously lousy at this.

“No, my kitten. I got you drunk, and I got you overfull, and I am not going to take advantage of you in this state.”

He must be drunker than he thought he was. “Sir? Timaios? You own me.”

“I do. And I am not going to have my first time with you be when you are too drunk to properly appreciate it.” Timaios patted Ctirad’s ass gently. “Here, up, there we go. Clothes off and into bed – that bed, there, the big one. I hope you don’t snore.”

“Nobody’s ever complained of that, sir.” He stripped off his pants, folded them and put them on a nearby bench before sliding into bed.

Much to his surprise, Timaios – similarly clad in nothing – slipped into bed next to him. “Good night, kitten.”

“Good night, sir.” If this place got any stranger, Ctirad was going to have to relearn everything he knew.

~

His bladder woke him, and the strange warm feeling of being pressed against his Owner, and the safe feeling of his Owner’s arm over him.

He could go a long time without moving to use the bathroom. But on the other hand, Timaios seemed to like a small amount of the pretense of making his own decisions.

On the other, other hand, Timaios had said if I haven’t told you to stay somewhere, and he had told Ctirad to go to bed.

In the end, the growing pressure of his bladder without the firmness of a solid stay there order to lean back against made Ctirad slip carefully out from under Timaios’ arm and very, very carefully make his way to the bathroom.

When he returned, his breath caught as he noticed Timaios was awake.

“Why don’t you turn back around-” his master began, and Ctirad tensed, even as he obeyed – “and wash yourself off all nice and good for me.” There was nothing but pleased warmth in his voice, but Ctirad had already turned around and couldn’t watch Timaios’ face. “I think you’re sober now, no?”

“Yes, sir.” He walked into the bathroom – didn’t close the door this time; he wanted Timaios to see he was doing exactly what he’d been told. “And I’m not too hungry or too full, either,” he offered, a little uncertainly.

Timaios chuckled. “Good. Good, and I am also neither too full nor too hungry nor drunk. Mmmmm,” he added, a deep rumble of appreciation, as Ctirad bent over, ass towards the bed, to let his master view him cleaning himself very thoroughly. “Mmm.. yes. That’s good. I don’t want you to chafe yourself raw, my dear kitten. That’s my job. Now come here.”

Ctirad dropped to all fours, feeling at the moment very feline – and very pet-like – and slunk across the floor as if he had his tail in the air. He felt very exposed, and very raw indeed, and his heart was pounding in his chest the way it never did when he was in a fight.

“Good. Gods, you’re gorgeous. Up here on the bed, that’s a good kitten, let me look you over.”

Timaios’ hands ran all over Ctirad, stroking, pinching, squeezing, commenting. “You’ve got some scars. And I still haven’t dealt with this awful collar.” He put his hand in the back of the collar and gave it a little tug.

Ctirad closed his eyes and let the collar press against his throat. “Hawthorn and rowan. Most were from fights.”

“Mm. Now isn’t the time to ask about the others. Let’s see.” He began murmuring, Old Tongue and Greek. It took Ctirad a moment to realize he was reshaping the collar, reforming it. “I could,” he said, as he tested the way the lighter, thinner-feeling collar pressed against Ctirad’s throat, “make you a new one. But we’re reshaping your Keeping. We’ll reshape your collar to match. Now.” He released the collar. “Onto your back, my pretty kitten, hands behind your head, and close your eyes. Knees up and spread, good boy. Tell me if I do anything you find unpleasant. Tell me if I do anything you don’t like.”

Ctirad rolled and positioned himself, closed his eyes and put his hands behind his head – and whined. “I – sir?”

“Anything you don’t like, Ctirad.”

“I don’t like having my eyes closed sir.” He spat it out as fast as he could. He couldn’t kneel or bow his head or really anything, so he held very still.

Timaios considered. “Can you leave them closed for a little while for me? Does it make you feel bad?”

“Just – just helpless, sir.”

That was the problem. Helpless wasn’t always bad.

Helpless might even be okay, with the right handler. Owner.

“All right. Keep your eyes shut for now. If it moves to actually bad, tell me. Immediately. All right?”

“Yes – yes sir.” He put his head back against the pillow and wiggled till he felt like he was in position. He was completely exposed, his spread legs showing everything off.

Hopefully Timaios liked what he’d bought.

“Hold as still as you can for me. Good kitten. Good.” Timaios’s hand settled on Ctirad’s ankle and slowly moved upwards. Ctirad could feel the bed shift as Timaios moved, coming up closer to Ctirad’s hip, as his hand brushed over Ctirad’s knee and down the slope Ctirad’s raised legs made, towards his hip. He could feel Timaios’ breath on his knee. He could feel his fingers just under his hip bone. “You’ve got a lovely body. Will you show me it as it really is?”

“…Drop my Mask, sir?” No, please no.

“Just as you did last night. I wish to know what I’m really touching.”

“In bed, sir? I mean… yes, sir.” He shifted his Mask to show his body as it truly was. “As you wish, sir.”

“Timaios,” he corrected gently. “Please.”

“…Yes, Timaios.”

“Thank you.” His hand slid back up Citrad’s leg while his other hand started downward from Ctirad’s collarbone, tracing a line down the center of Ctirad’s body to his navel. Up and down, back and forth, his hands brushing all over Ctirad’s body, but avoiding his nipples, his balls, his penis, his throat. “You’re delicious. I could eat you up.”

Ctirad swallowed and dared to speak. “I could – I could enjoy that, sir, Timaios, from you.”

There was a silence that went on long enough that he wanted to open his eyes, even though Timaios’ hands kept moving up and down, round and round. And then a soft chuckle. “That was brave of you, wasn’t it?”

“…” He didn’t want to say anything at all. But the hands had stilled now, and he wanted them to touch him more. “Yes?” he tried. “It was, uh. It was nerve-wracking?”

“And you did it anyway.” The hands started moving again. “I’m pleased. Is this too hard for you? I want you to be able to enjoy yourself.”
Ctirad swallowed a keening noise so that it almost didn’t make it out of his mouth. That wasn’t an order, that wasn’t an order, there were enough buffer words in there that – the hands had stopped. “Don’t stop, please? Please, I like it. I just…”

“Okay.” The hands began moving again. “You just…?”

“It’s hard to know what’s okay, when I can’t watch your face.”

“Then we’ll assume everything’s okay, how’s that?”

“No? No, I mean,” he swallowed down on panic. “What if I say something wrong?”

A hand pinched very lightly at the tender part of his inner thigh. “While we’re in bed, here, today, there is no ‘wrong,’ all right? I will not take offense and I will neither punish you for nor hold against you anything you say here in bed today. All right?”

“…Why?”

“Because I want you to be able to relax and just react. I want to see what you look like when you’re doing that.”

Ctirad considered that, turned it over, and then nods. “Yes, sir. I… I can do that.”

Timaios chuckled a little. “Good. Now…” He wasn’t talking anymore, but his mouth remained busy, exploring all the places that his hands hands.

React. Relax.. Ctirad convinced his mind they were orders, forced his body to relax, and let go, enjoying what Timaios was doing, feeling it, writhing under him. He lifted his hips up as high as they would go and whined when Timaios pulled away, bit his lip and, eventually, begged for more. His voice cracked and squeaked and he swore in pleasure.

When Timaios rolled him onto his stomach, the cool pillow was a relief against his face. He was relaxed, he was reacting, and he had so much room to move like this. He teased Timaios in turn, shifting and wriggling and changing the pace of his hip-rolls, until Timaios grabbed his hips with a pleased-sounding growl and put a stop to that.

When they were done, Timaios rolled Ctirad back onto his back. “You can move your hands now, kitten. And you can open your eyes. You were lovely, you know. Absolutely lovely. Did you enjoy it? Honestly?”

Honestly. Ctirad opened his eyes and looked at his Owner. Yeah, that expression looked sincere. “I did,” he answered. “I really did.”

“Good. Good kitten. I’m quite glad.” Timaios stroked Ctirad’s stomach and chest. “You’re a lot of fun, you know. And you’re beautiful, writhing beneath me. Sadly…” he sighed. “I have to do something to earn my name and my money. Let’s shower and have breakfast, and then I’ll hand you over to my staff while I handle all the boring meetings.”

“Yes, sir.” The praise was making him dizzy. Ctirad thought, as much as he didn’t want Timaios to go away, maybe a little time apart might be a good thing. He was falling fast and hard, and he didn’t really want to know what happened when he hit the bottom.

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