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Ctiard struggled to finish eating. Finally he had to admit, “I’m full. I’m sorry.”

Timaios frowned, and Ctirad’s stomach dropped. “Fuck. I hope you didn’t stuff yourself too much?”

“What?” Ctirad stared at him in confusion. “No, sir, you said ‘finish eating’ and…” He was panicking. This was mortifying. He swallowed and tried to get control of himself.

“Come here, please.” His voice wasn’t angry anymore. Ctirad dropped to his fours and slunk across the floor to Timaios, trying not to whimper and trying not to hate himself for the urge to whimper.

When had he started feeling shame again? Shame wasn’t something he had the time for or luxury of.

The table was too short. He was at Timaios’ feet far too quickly. He sat down on his heels and looked at his owner’s toes.

“Ctirad, I apologize. I keep underestimating how badly you’ve been brutalized, and I’m not sure how to reinforce actual free will without just giving you more orders. Do you have any ideas?”

“Sir?” Ctirad remained looking at Timaios’ toes. “I don’t have free will. I’m Owned. I belong to you.”

“Yes. But you are allowed to make independent decisions. That’s not outside the realm of being Kept. Are you with me so far?”

Ctirad nodded. “Yes, sir. Some Kept are allowed to make independent decisions.”

“All right. I’ll make you an actual physical list. But once I do that, it’s up to you to remember that that li- no, I’ll make it an order. You can ask if you want clarification, and otherwise you’ll know that those things you can decide on your own. All right?”

Being ordered into free will seemed just about on par with most of Ctirad’s experiences being Owned. “Yes, sir.”

“All right, if you’ve over eaten, we’re going to have to rest for a while before we can do anything entertaining. You comfortable in the public parts of the house like that?”

“Like- oh, without a shirt? Yes, sir.” He had pants. “How public is public?”

“This time of day, it should just be other staff, but sometimes we end up with someone coming by. If we do – are you comfortable playing sated boyfriend?”

“If you tell me the role, sir.” It sounded a lot like obedient boytoy from that title, but he was learning not to assume anything with Timaios.

“Lounge quietly against me as if you’re too sleepy and content to do anything else, speak when spoken to but as if you’re half-asleep or fucked senseless.”

Ctirad couldn’t help but smile. “Housecat, but human. I can do that, sir.”

“Good. All right, downstairs with us… stand up for that, Ctirad. I have faith in your ability to crawl down stairs, but you neither need to nor have to.”

Ctirad, who had not quite so much faith in his abilities when he was overfed and a little fuzzy about everything, was more than happy to stand and be led down another hall, down another set of stairs, and into a wide-open living room space. Timaios sat down in a large overstuffed chair – more of a small loveseat than an armchair – and considered Ctirad.

“Tell me the truth: would you be more comfortable sitting next to me or at my feet?”

“I-” Ctirad tried to come up with an answer and couldn’t. He swallowed a whine. “I don’t know, sir.”

“That’s a truthful answer, Ctirad, you’re fine. That’s good, my boy.”

Ctirad ducked his head and let the praise wash over him. “Sir?”

“It’s okay to not know. Preferences are not easy, I understand that, especially when you think there might be a right answer, especially when you have been trained to not express preferences, as I’m beginning to guess you must have been. So sit here at my feet, and I’ll turn the tv on and brush your hair. All right?”

“Yes – Timaios.” The name sounded strange still, like it ought to be forbidden.

“In public spaces, ‘Tim’ is fine. After all, that’s who I am.” Timaios’ smile seemed a little self-deprecating. It almost distracted Ctirad from the twist of guilt in his stomach.

“Sorry, sir… Tim.”

“No need to be sorry. You didn’t know.” Timaios sat down in the center of the big chair, and Ctirad sat immediately down, a few inches from his Owner’s feet. It was a pet’s position, a submissive position. If he could only lean back, it would be safe and comfortable, the way he hadn’t felt in quite some time. But he knew better than to try.

“Here, scoot back.” Timaios spread his legs. “Lean against the back of the chair so you can get some contact. I want to get you acclimated to my touch early, so you don’t get too mazed by it when we’re in public. You’re going to be getting touched a lot – I hope you don’t mind the contact.”

He did as he was told, feeling the knees on other side of him, the hand on his hair. Touched a lot. “I don’t mind at all. I… I think I might like it?”

“We’ll find out, won’t we?” Timaios’ hand was in his hair, tugging it lightly. Ctirad let his head loll back into the touch. It was like fire, like sunlight, like being wrapped up in a blanket fresh out of the dryer. “So. Can you tell me something about yourself?”

Ctirad’s eyes had fallen closed; it took him a moment to pull himself back to the world around him enough to think of an answer. “I – um. There’s not all that much to know, not really. There’s… “ He blinked a few times. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “So much of it is gone.”

So much of the rest, he’d held in a quiet part inside of himself, where it couldn’t be tainted or taken from him.

Timaios’ hand was gentle in his hair. “All right. Do you know anything you like to do for fun?”

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It took effort to pick up the fork and eat without specific permission, but Ctirad wasn’t going to risk pissing his owner off again in such a short time.

After the first bite, it took effort to not gorge. To remind himself to be a good dinner companion, he attempted questions. “So, what are your plans for tomorrow?”

He thought Timaios looked amused, but was fine with that, as long as he didn’t look offended.

“Well, I’ve got a short boring meeting and a long one that might actually be interesting. Then I have a couple unofficial things to do that might cause some interesting ripples. I think I’ll send you shopping with one of the others here in the morning, save you the boring meeting, and then you can be properly dressed for the afternoon meeting and the unofficial gatherings.”

“I feel like Pretty Woman,” Ctirad mumbles, “Except I know how to not get turned away from a store.”

Timaios laughed. “You can probably skip the wide derby hat, too. I was serious about what I said earlier; I’m going to present you as an enigma, because Tim Kaprinsky is rich enough to get away with just expecting his handsome plus-one to be allowed in anywhere. I might get lightly affectionate with you in public, if you can stand that. I might spend an hour ignoring you entirely, or ask you to weigh in on matters. If I do that, just be honest, unless there’s something I’ve specifically told you not to say. I’m either actually asking your opinion or trying to shake them-”

“-by getting the trained monkey to talk. I’ve done that dance before.”

Shit, had he said that out loud? Ctirad colored and looked at his plate.

But Timaios was laughing again.

“Very good, very good. Yes. Is all that fine with you?”

“So. I stand there and look pretty, speak when asked a question, and get cuddled when it proves a point?”

“That is, ah.” Timaios coughed. “Yes. More or less, yes.”

“Sir, as long as ‘get cuddled’ isn’t ‘get fucked’ in the middle of a restaurant and you’re not gonna start humiliating me for my opinions, that sounds great.” It sounded, he had to admit, more like his old life than his new life.

“No. I am not the sort of man who will humiliate his employees — or his possessions. I might use your answers to humiliate someone else, but the worst I might say is ‘if he gets it, Bob, why don’t you.’ Is that acceptable?”

Ctirad smiled. He actually felt at home with that idea. “I’m not big, but I look like muscle. I’m used to people — employers — using the fact that people think I’m dumb. Sir.”

That got a real smile back from Timaios. “I may have to start punishing you for calling me sir,” he said, but he seemed to have no heat at all behind it.

Ctirad found he was feeling daring. “Be careful… sir. I might enjoy that.”

“Mmm. Well then. How’s dinner?”

“Delicious.” He looked down at his plate and found it almost empty. “Really good,” he admitted ruefully. His stomach felt stretched, it was so full. “Best I’ve had in a really long time.”

“Good. Danny is well worth the money I pay her. Maybe we can put a little meat back on those bones.”

“Do you…” Damnit.

“No, please, continue.”

Double damnit. That was an order. “Do you have a gym, sir? Because if I am going to be eating-” enough. “-more, I’m going to need to work out to keep my tone up. If that’s what you want me to look like, sir. If it pleases you.” Fuck.

“I have a gym, yes. You are welcome to use it at any point where I am not requiring your services and have not given you other tasks – I’m going to note that sleeping is a required task, Ctirad. And as for your body.” He stood up and walked around the table. Ctirad struggled with the urge to drop to his knees and settled for looking down at the table.

Timaios took his chin and forced his gaze up to his eyes. “It’s a lovely body, and it does belong to me. Why don’t we say this: no tattoos, no piercings, no fake tanning, nothing humans would think of as body modification. But you’re allowed to shape and work your body in a gym as much as you want. Understood?”

No.

“So you don’t mind if I work out?”

“Not at all. You may do as you like in the gym. But for now -” Timaios released Ctirad’s chin. “Perhaps you should finish eating.”

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The food smelled so good he was struggling not to drool. He waited patiently. He still wasn’t sure when the trap would spring closed.

He wasn’t sure if it ever would spring closed – except that the moment he relaxed, his nerves told him he would be snapped into a cycle of punishment.

Timaios sat down and studied Ctirad. After a moment, he nodded. “All right, we’re going to do this one this way. In public, you not only have my permission to eat as you see fit, I expect you to eat naturally, all right?”

They were not in public now. “Yes, sir.”

“In private, there are going to be times when I want you to be submissive, or when you want to be submissive – completely submissive – to me. At those times I will tell you to kneel, not to sit, understood?”

He was Kept. He was inherently submissive. “No, sir.”

He did not wince when Timaios sighed, but only because he was not so far gone as to not still have iron control.

“Let’s try again. Right now, it would please me for you to sit with me at the table and enjoy a meal with me as a person, as two people enjoying dinner. I won’t give you any orders during dinner, and nothing I say that sounds like it is an order in disguise will be. I’d like a companion for mealtime, not a pet. Is that better?”

“I understood that, sir,” Ctirad answered, just as carefully as Timaios had explained. He didn’t understand why Timaios wanted him as a companion, but he knew how to do that, more or less. “Um. That is.” He tried to remember the gears in his head that did informal. “Got it.”

Timaios smiled. “Good. That being said, let’s eat.”

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Ctirad cleared his throat. “Sir.” he dropped to his knees on the soft, plush carpet.

“Ctirad.” There was the gentlest of chiding tones in Timaios’ voice. Ctirad fought the urge to duck his head and apologize. “When we are alone in my bedroom, at the very least, I expect you to call me by my name.”

“S- Timaios?”

It sounded strange in his voice. He could not remember the last time he’d been allowed that privilege. He didn’t know what to think about it. He looked up at Timaios and found his master wearing a crooked and strange smile.

“I do believe I like that far too much. Would you indulge me in repeating it?”

Ctirad cleared his throat. “Timaios?”

“Lovely. Now. I am torn between any number of options, very few of which will lead to that dinner I told you that you were getting. Ah, well, we can’t always get what we want.” He took a step backwards. “Will you drop your Mask willingly?”

“No, sir, no, Timaios.” He braced himself for the anger, for the order.

“Tch. Ah, well. Another time, perhaps. How about your shirt? Will you take that off willingly?”

“Yes, sir.” He pulled his shirt off and rolled his shoulders, fighting the urge to pose.

“We’ll have to do something about that collar. It’s awful, but I’m beginning to realize I can’t expect anything different from Ermenrich. Does it hurt you?”

Ctirad’s hand went half to his collar, fell. “Not anymore.” It was heavy, but it had stopped being unbearable a long time ago.

“Then I can wait until tomorrow and decide what I want to put on you properly. Will you take your pants off willingly?”

“Yes, sir.” He hesitated. “May I stand?”

“Yes.” Timaios paused, and then added in a gentle voice, “unless I order you to your knees, which will not be often, you may stand when you need or want to. Unless I have ordered you to stay in one place, you may leave the room for such things as bodily functions or just to get a breath of air – although if we’re in the middle of something, I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me where you’re going first.”

Ctirad processed this slowly. He could remember, vaguely and as if from a very long distance, when those things would have seemed more like duh and less like huge allowances. “Thank you.” He cut off the sir before it got out of his mouth, but could not quite bring himself to say Timaios. He hesitated, feeling like that was too informal. “I appreciate it.”

“I’m glad,” Timaios answered softly. He sounded for the first time like a dangerous man. Ctirad hesitated again before standing and looked up at his master’s face.

The expression was – was almost not, as if he had learned how to Mask what he was feeling. Ctirad decided to settle on doing what he had been told – no, asked – and stood, peeling off his jeans. Belatedly, he remembered that he had to take off his boots, and left those carefully by the side of the wall.

He waited, hands behind his back, feet a shoulder-width apart, his eyes on the wall behind his master’s back. This was tricky, as his new owner was considerably taller than he was.

“So,” Timaios murmured, in the same soft, dangerous voice, “how do you look, really?”

Ctirad considered that. ”I…” He focused for a moment and then managed to shift his Mask. He had learned over the years to Mask not just his Change but to put forth an appearance of health and hale-ness. He let that drop now, keeping his Change hidden.

Timaios hissed. His hand ran over Ctirad’s chest gently, and then over his arms. “It must have been hard, keeping muscle tone when he was clearly not giving you enough food,” he murmured. “And it must be painful, these bruises.”

“I heal pretty quickly.” Ctirad answered, or, rather, didn’t answer. “Can I Mask again, sir?”

“You don’t like being seen like this?”

He considered his answer for a minute, then decided that Timaios had earned a bit of honesty. “I don’t like people knowing someone could do this to me.”

He raised his eyebrows in reply. “Considering…?”

“Even considering, yes.” He Masked again, because he hadn’t been told not to, and he was starting to wonder if there was a limit to Timaios’ generosity.

He hadn’t found it yet, at least. “Let me get you some pajama pants. We’ll worry about clothing later. Except – do you have a preference for that?”

“Things I can move in, sir. Things that don’t chafe too much.”

“You’re rather easy to please, aren’t you?”

“I-I don’t know if I’m easy to please, but I’m easy to make comfortable. I-” There was a knock on the bedroom door, and he fell silent.

“Will you be comfortable having Danny bring the food in while you’re nude?” There was a gentle teasing to Timaios’ voice. Ctirad found he liked it.

“I won’t, ah, won’t be uncomfortable, sir.”

“Very good. Come in, Danny.”

As the door opened, Ctirad realized he’d forgotten all about the food.

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Timaios’ house was everything Ctirad might have expected from someone as rich as Tim Kaprinsky, and yet nothing at all he expected. It was a big house on a big lot in the middle of the city, an easy four acres of property with such good landscaping that you hardly noticed you could almost never see more than three feet in any direction, and the house itself was almost completely obscured from the road and all three of its neighbors.

The inside, though – or, at least, from the garage to the stairs upward – looked comfortable. It was more spartan than opulent, as long as you didn’t think too much about what some of the materials cost, and the sitting room he got a glimpse of was done in overstuffed upholstery that actually looked designed to sit in.

“Sal,” Timaios asked of his driver, “can you tell Danny to send up food for two? A real meal, but keep it relatively bland. I’m not sure how much good food our Ctirad here has had in the recent past.”

None was a safe bet, but he hadn’t been asked, so he didn’t answer. Timaios’ hand was on the small of his back, steering him as effectively as if he’d had him on a leash.

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, Sal. This way, Ctirad.” The back stairs – they had to be back stairs, any place this big had to have a grand staircase somewhere – were carpeted in something soft under Ctirad’s boots, and he stumbled for a minute, thinking he ought to have taken his shoes off.

“Easy,” Timaios murmured. On the stairway, he was practically pressed against Ctirad’s side. It was a warm feeling, pleasant, and yet distracting as well. “You’re fine. Just up these stairs and, here, to the left.”

To the left took Ctirad to a smallish door, just barely big enough to allow for the horns he couldn’t currently see on Timaios. He made a questioning noise in his throat, not quite trusting him with words.

“There, yes. It’s okay.”

He hadn’t been this skittish in a long time. Then again, it had been a long time since he’d had a new Owner. He opened the door.

The room inside was – well, it looked lived-in. Someone had tidied, he thought, and made the bed, but there was a stack of books on one nightstand, a tablet and a laptop on the other, and three pairs of shoes under the bed.

Timaios’ bedroom had no mirrors, and the wide wall of windows was covered with blinds and curtains. The decor was expensive understated wood and neutrals in light colors, except something in purple silk thrown across the desk chair.

“Steady, steady. All right, my lovely man, I’ve got you in my bedroom.”

All thoughts of dinner fled at the rumble in Timaios’ voice.

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