Title:	The Hart and the Lion (Chapters 1 - 19)
Author:	Cita Powers (© 2000-2002)
Author's Website:	none
Fandom:	Sports Night AU
Pairing:	Daniel el-Rydal / Casey Mackall
Rating:	NC-17 (m/m sex, violence)
Author's Disclaimer:	None. I'm like that.
Author's Notes:	This began as a little morsel to cheer up Em when she wasn't feeling well. I had no idea that it would take on a life if its own and actually develop a plot. <gasp> Thanks to Em and n for beta-reading, and pushing for more. Any errors and inconsistencies are, however, no reflection on them; I take full responsibility. Comments and criticisms are always welcome.

Daniel el-Rydal walked down the dusty street, ignoring the shouts of the merchants whose shops lined the narrow thoroughfare. He had finished almost all of his shopping earlier that afternoon. All his purchases were back at the inn with his horse, packed neatly into two saddlebags, the weight carefully and evenly distributed between the two leather pouches. Daniel loved his horse, Zeina, and he was not the kind of man who was careless with a prized possession.

He had one last purchase to make, and then he could leave this cramped, smelly, filthy town, where one could not turn around without the hem of one's robe brushing against an infidel or merchant. Two days in this hell-hole was more than enough for any sane man, and Daniel el-Rydal was eminently sane.

His footsteps faltered for a moment. Was it sane to be doing this? It was true that he needed a slave to tend to his needs. It was true that the child who was his wife would not be beddable for another several years, at least. It was also true that a single purchase was more economical and sensible than two. A woman would not be able to perform some of the tasks necessary, therefore he would purchase a man. And he would bed a man.

Daniel el-Rydal's knees turned to water at the thought.

"Control!" he chided himself. Straightening his shoulders, he turned down the narrow side-street to the slave market.

The crush of people was worse there. That, and the stench. Heavily perfumed merchants filled the air with cloying scents, underscored by the stink of the unwashed bodies of slaves, their filth and fear mixing in a stomach-churning odor. Daniel moved from stall to stall, passing over the ranks of females, concentrating on the men lined up for inspection.

By the second hour, Daniel was beginning to despair. The men displayed were either skinny boys, who looked too malnourished to work, or old men, wrinkled and toothless. He turned away from a boy who looked no older than eight, his attention drawn by a commotion at one end of the market. Wandering over, he saw a group of men -- real men -- being herded into a corral.

Daniel scanned the men, noticing their bearing, their muscular thighs and arms, their broad chests, the wild look in their eyes. Soldiers. Warriors. From the look of their features and hair, they were from the north. He sighed. It was a shame. The first real men he had seen, but they would be terrible slaves until they had been broken, and Daniel didn't have the time or inclination to break in a new slave.

Turning, he noticed a tall, slender man standing at the back of the corral. His hair was greasy and long, dirt caked his body, like it did with the others, but he did not look like a warrior. Curious, Daniel walked closer, his eyes fixed on the man. Something strange was happening to his insides -- they felt warm and strangely attenuated, as if they were being plucked from within him. His cock stirred.

He grabbed the sleeve of the slave-seller standing proprietarily outside the corral. "That man," he said, pointing, "where is he from?"

"Him?" The seller grinned at Daniel. "You have a good eye, sir. He came with the northern soldiers, but he isn't one. He's educated and," his voice dropped, "he can read and write."

"I'd like to see him."

The seller led Daniel to a small shop at the side of the corral. He summoned a houseslave and ordered him to bring the young man to them, then motioned Daniel to a low divan and poured him a drink.

There was a hubbub and shouting outside the tent, and the slave suddenly appeared at end of the shop. His arms were tied tightly behind him, his feet were hobbled, and he was half-choked on a loop of rope around his neck, which was tied to a chain dangling from the ceiling. He glared at Daniel and muttered under his breath. Daniel thought he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Rising, Daniel circled the slave, checking him for skin lesions and other diseases beneath the encrusted dirt. He bent and lifted the slave's slack penis and scrotum. The slave yelled something before he was choked by the rope, but Daniel ignored him and continued around his body, spreading his asscheeks and checking his hole. It looked tight and healthy. His cock filled, pushing against the soft cotton of his trousers.

"He's a virgin," said the seller proudly.

"How much?" Daniel stared at the slave, but he could see a complacent look cross the seller's face.

"Fifteen hundred."

Daniel snorted. "One thousand." It was more than he wanted to spend, but well within his budget.

"Fourteen."

"One thousand fifty."

"Oh, please, sir." The seller rolled his eyes and shrugged. "Thirteen."

"Eleven."

"Twelve."

"Done."

"Congratulations, sir! I'm sure you will be very happy with him. How would you like to take him?"

Daniel glanced at the slave, who suddenly looked bewildered and a little frightened. "Here, but I want him cleaned up first. Washed inside and out." He took out his purse as the slave was led out and counted out the money.

He heard the spluttering, indignant yells from outside and his cock hardened further. He took a shaky breath as the seller led him into a small room at the back, the only furniture a low wooden bench and a pile of worn cushions. The seller placed a small bowl of oil beside the bench, along with a well-washed towel, and then disappeared out the back.

Daniel el-Rydal thoughtfully stroked his hard cock. He had never taken a man before, much less a virgin...

He sat back on the cushions and waited.

In a few minutes the slave -- his slave -- was dragged into the room, still dripping. He shook the wet hair out of his face and blinked at the relative dimness of the room, compared with the bright sunlight outside.

"Dry him off," said Daniel, rising. Two of the house slaves disappeared for a moment, returning with towels, while the heavily-muscled one held fast to the rope around his slave's neck. They dried him off roughly, his slave barely tolerating their touches. "Comb his hair and tie it back," Daniel added, his eyes casting over the brown arms and legs, the creamy, pale torso and ass that the water had revealed. His insides quivered with anticipation, and he reached out, trailing his fingers down the patch of hair gracing his slave's chest, so different from his own hairless one.

His slave started and pulled back, yelling something in his uncouth northern tongue, but was immediately jerked back by the rope. He snarled at Daniel, but remained still as his hair was sketchily combed out and tied back with a thong. Daniel could see his face clearly now. Brown eyes, narrowed suspiciously, a noble brow, high cheekbones, lips that Daniel would swear were as soft as a woman's, and a stubborn chin. He would not submit easily, Daniel knew, but once he did... Daniel's cock throbbed at the thought, and he recalled himself. He was leaving within the hour, and he still had to take his slave, then return to the inn and be well outside the city's rural perimeter by nightfall.

"Tie him down," he ordered, his eyes lingering on those lips. There was no time to try kissing now, but soon, he'd nibble and suck them to his heart's content.

As soon as his slave realized that he was being led toward the bench, he began to fight in earnest. Two more house slaves were called in -- huge, burly men with arms like tree-trunks -- and it wasn't long before he was face-down on the bench, his arms tied to the front legs, his knees tied to the back, his ass raised. Daniel waved away the gag that one slave offered. He wanted to hear his slave's voice as he was taken for the first time.

Dismissing the house slaves, he ran his hand down the long, tense back and cupped the soft ass. His slave was still yelling, his voice growing hoarse, and he clenched his ass cheeks together as Daniel ran a finger down his cleft. When Daniel rubbed over his hole he screamed in anger, his face red and congested, and struggled against his bonds. But they had been well-secured, and Daniel had no fear that he would go free.

Mindful of the passing time, Daniel dipped his finger in the oil and plunged it deep inside his slave's body. An ear-splitting scream greeted that action, and Daniel was tempted to ask for the gag. However, his father had taught him that expectations should be immediately established with horses and slaves, and that patience is necessary in these cases, so he kept one finger inside the wiggling ass and brought his other hand down on one cheek, smacking hard.

There was a screech of surprise and then the yelling continued. He thrust his finger in and out once, then smacked the other cheek. A moment of stunned silence was immediately rewarded with a kiss to one reddened cheek and a twist of the finger within. His slave trembled and let out a whimper. When he started yelling again, Daniel dealt another savage blow to that enticing ass.

Silence.

Bestowing a kiss on the other cheek, Daniel quickly withdrew his finger, dipped two in the oil, and pressed them inside. His slave panted heavily, a brief moan escaping when Daniel twisted his fingers and dragged them along the inside of his slave's gut. Goosebumps marched along his ass and thighs and he shivered. Daniel nodded to himself. Good.

He pulled out his fingers and carefully opened his robes and trousers. His cock was rock hard and weeping. It took only a moment to oil it and place it against his slave's hole. His slave bucked forward, not moving much because of the bench, but struggling hard against his bonds. Keeping the head of his cock in place, Daniel paused and ran his hands soothingly over the quivering back and flanks.

"Hush, hush," he said quietly. "If you relax it will be good, I will make it good for you, and every time I take you I will make it good..." His hands stroked and caressed, and the tense body beneath him began to relax. "Yes, yes, don't try to keep me out, let me in, always let me in, you are mine..."

He pushed forward, the muscle beneath him clenching, but he continued to press, and suddenly the oil-slick hole opened enough for him to breach. His slave bit back a scream and choked out some words, his voice filled with pain. Daniel paused for a moment and then shoved the rest of the way in. He moaned luxuriously -- his slave's ass was as hot and tight as he had hoped.

"Control!" he ground out, his teeth clenched as he tried not to explode on the spot. "How would it look if I spent my seed on the first thrust like a young boy?" he chided, holding himself still with effort. His hands gripped the narrow hips like iron, and he loosened his grip slightly. His slave's shallow gasps evened out and he relaxed a little. Only then did Daniel begin to move.

He kept his strokes long and deep, smoothly pumping in and out of that tight, reddening hole. His slave grew quiet, only an occasional moan breaking the silence. Daniel increased the pace of his strokes, slamming into the creamy ass so hard that his balls smacked against his slave's shrunken scrotum. A shudder passed through the body beneath him and he heard a strangled wail and then sobbing.

The sounds triggered his orgasm, and he filled his slave's hole with his come, thrusting deeply in an effort to ensure that all of it stayed inside. As soon as he carefully pulled out, a house slave, who had obviously been listening, stepped in and offered Daniel a heavy, but narrow, weighted plug. Daniel oiled it thoroughly and placed it at the red, twitching hole, then shoved it inside. His slave shouted once, the sound thick and wet. Daniel wiped himself off with the towel and fastened his clothing, walking around to look at his slave's tear-stained face. His eyes were squeezed shut, and acting on some unfathomable impulse, Daniel leaned down and kissed his cheek.

Eyes flew open and Daniel met his accusing stare unflinchingly. "We will go now," he said calmly, although he knew his slave could not understand him. These northerners never bothered to learn other tongues. He scanned his memory for a word or two he had once heard in their barbaric language, although he had no idea why he should bother.

"Home," he said finally, hoping he remembered the word correctly. The brown eyes looked surprised, then closed and the head turned away.

Daniel sighed and motioned to the house slaves. "Prepare him for the journey." The slave-seller appeared at the doorway and offered him a farewell drink -- luck for his journey. Daniel ignored the growing commotion behind him and accepted the offer gratefully.

He suspected he was going to need his strength over the next few days.

In a surprisingly short period of time his slave appeared at the door, ready for their journey. He wore a short tunic and sandals, and the rope bindings were replaced with heavy leather cuffs around his throat, wrists and ankles. His wrists were bound tightly together in front, his ankles attached to a hobble, which was suspended by a short chain dangling from his wrists, so that he wouldn't stumble or trip over it as they walked.

His slave swallowed convulsively as Daniel raised his winecup to his lips, his eyes fixed on the cup.

"Give him something to drink," Daniel ordered, and turned to the seller. "When was the last time he was given food?"

The seller thought for a moment. "Yesterday they were fed, I believe." He shrugged. "Or perhaps the day before."

Daniel watched as his slave drank the proffered water eagerly, not caring if it spilt over his chin and down his tunic. When the cup was empty and the house slave turned to leave, he made a small noise deep in his throat and looked at Daniel beseechingly.

"Give him another." Daniel spoke curtly, well aware of the passage of time. Still, it would be negligent not to see to his slave's immediate needs. After all, he would do as much for his beloved horse, and there was no use in purchasing a slave who could not work due to hunger or thirst. Daniel had been taught contempt for those owners who treated their slaves worse than their animals. It made no economic sense. Daniel busied himself checking over his purchase papers and the small bag that the seller had provided as the water was poured and the cup held to his slave's lips.

When his slave had finished the second cup, he nodded to the burly house slave who held the chain attached to his slave's collar and walked out the door. They were a few steps down the street when his slave began to yell again, his shouts garnering responses from the northern warriors still in the corral. Daniel tolerated it for a minute -- he would want to bid his companions goodbye -- but when it continued, he stopped and strode back to where his slave was standing, pulling on the chain held by the house slave and shouting. Daniel walked up to him -- his slave's mouth snapped shut and he flinched, his eyes showing their whites.

"Patience," Daniel reminded himself and he took a calming breath.

He placed a finger on his slave's lips. "You will be quiet," he said softly. "You will not embarrass me in public, or you will be punished." The brown eyes blinked, hints of panic in their depths, and then his slave jerked away and let loose with a long string of uncouth shouts.

Daniel watched him for a second and then gestured to the house slave, who grabbed his slave's collar at the front and pulled until he was bent over, his pale ass shining below the short-cut back of his tunic, the end of the plug showing between those soft cheeks. The shouting stopped as his slave choked, half-strangled by the house slave's thick fingers.

Daniel stepped up to his slave and held him firmly by the waist, then let loose with a rain of blows on his up-turned ass. The pale flesh turned pink, then rose, and finally crimson as his hand dealt blow after blow. Muffled cries and screeches issued from his slave, but he was implacable. He would not be embarrassed by a possession, and the sooner his slave learned this, the better. Daniel ignored the comments and stares of a few of the curious. This was between him and his slave.

He finally stopped when he heard sobs, his hand stinging and red itself. He released his slave's waist, and his slave would have fallen over if the house slave had not caught him and levered him upright. Daniel gazed impassively at the fresh tear-tracks on his slave's miserable face, and quickly stifled an unaccountable urge to cup his cheek and kiss them away.

"Quickly," he said to the house slave, and watched as he led his slave down the street, chains rattling. His slave's scarlet ass shone like a beacon under the shortened back of his tunic, his mincing walk due to the spanking and plug, as much as to the hobble. Daniel caught the glances of a few passers-by, a few gazing longingly at his slave's exotic looks, lustful eyes moving to his ass and the public mark of possession there.

Daniel hurried to catch up with them, and led them to the inn.

He purchased bread and fruit on their way, acutely conscious of the way his slave sniffed hungrily and eyed the bag. Once they were beyond the city walls, Daniel would allow him to eat. He had purchased a second horse yesterday, one who was sturdy and tough, good as a pack animal and yet with enough spirit to make riding enjoyable. Daniel decided to call her Salimeh, and his slave would ride her. The stable boy placed the double pack of Daniel's purchases on Salimeh's back and lashed it to the saddle. Then the house slave, at Daniel's direction, hoisted his slave up and chained him to the saddle, leaving enough slack so that he could bring his hands up to his mouth. Daniel insisted that a thick piece of toweling be placed between his slave's bare ass and the saddle -- he would be sore enough by nightfall from the plug alone -- causing additional damage to his property through negligence would be idiotic.

Then Salimeh was securely tethered to Zeina's saddle, Daniel tipped the house slave and ordered him back to the seller. He cast a critical eye over his slave's seat on Salimeh and hoped that his awkwardness was due to the chains and discomfort, and not to an inability to ride. That could make their journey into a nightmare.

Still, it was too late to worry about that now. They had a long way to go, and first, they'd have to pass through the city gates. Daniel glanced at his slave, shifting gingerly on the saddle. He hoped the guards wouldn't hold them up for long, and swiftly calculated how much baksheesh he could afford. He also uttered a brief prayer that his slave would not embarrass him again, although knowing the guards' habits, he didn't really believe that that particular prayer would be answered.

Daniel urged Zeina through the bustling streets, Salimeh obediently following on her tether. So far his slave had merely sat quietly, but Daniel wondered if the sight of the city gates would stir him.

They moved as quickly as possible down a broad thoroughfare, Zeina breasting the thick clots of people steadily. She was not easily spooked, and Daniel trusted her implicitly. Once or twice Salimeh snorted and tugged on the tether, but she did not appear to be doing more than reacting to the dust and incessant noise.

Rounding a corner, the city walls stood before them, the broad gates flung open to permit passage. Daniel urged Zeina toward the guard-house. The fact that he had bought a new slave had to be noted in their books, and his papers of purchase would be examined. As would his slave.

Daniel stole a glance at his newest possession and breathed a sigh of relief. He was balancing better on Salimeh and looking around curiously at the bustle of humanity. A guard hailed him as they approached, his face splitting into a wide grin as he caught sight of his slave's chains.

"Ah, I see you've made a purchase, sir," he said, catching hold of Zeina's bridle. "May I see your papers?"

Daniel had them ready, along with a small amount of baksheesh. He knew he would have to pay more, but it was always useful to start the palm-greasing process early. His father had taught him that. After tying Zeina to a post beside the guard-house door, the guard examined the papers, pretending that he could read, and pocketed the money.

"Please come with me, sir," he said to Daniel, indicating the guard-house, where his superior sat, waiting to examine the papers again, and for his cut. Daniel stood silently before the old man as the papers were read and the money disappeared into small pockets secreted about his uniform. With a nod he rose and gestured for Daniel to follow him back outside.

His slave waited patiently on Salimeh. "Of course, he doesn't have much of a choice, does he," thought Daniel. "He's chained to the saddle."

The Captain of the Guard walked up to his slave, eyes traveling up and down his body hungrily as he circled the horse. Daniel swallowed, and stepped close to Salimeh's neck, a hair's-breadth from his slave's tense leg and fisted hands.

"Bend forward!" the Captain barked.

His slave looked at Daniel in confusion.

"Captain, he is a barbarian and does not speak our tongue." Daniel spoke quickly, forestalling a repetition of the order.

The Captain snorted. "Very well, then. Have him bend over. I'll check his mark myself."

Daniel smiled a little, in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, but his slave didn't seem to be reassured. He reached up and grasped his bony shoulder, pulling him down to lean over Salimeh's neck.

"Don't worry," he murmured as his slave followed his direction. The brown eyes never left his face, as if searching for something, and Daniel could hear his slave's nervous breaths speed up.

Keeping his hand on his slave's shoulder, Daniel moved so that he could see what the Captain was doing. He would not allow this to go beyond the prescribed routine, even if it cost him dearly. Daniel did not take the time to examine this intention -- he merely knew that it was so.

The Captain must have seen something of his thoughts in Daniel's face, because he smoothed the leer from his lips and sought to don a professional air. He reached up and grasped the end of the plug protruding from his slave's ass and pulled it out quickly. Daniel's fingers tightened on his slave's shoulder as he heard a gasp, swiftly bitten off. That evidence of self-control earned a caress and another murmur of approbation.

Raising two fingers toward his slave's ass, the Captain caught Daniel's hard look, and folded one in with the others. He slid the finger inside and pulled it out, evidence of Daniel's recent possession slick on his skin. His slave shuddered and hissed, but was otherwise still and silent. Daniel's caress traveled down his arm and leg and back up again. He was pleased that his slave had learned so quickly. He had certainly made a good choice.

Wiping his finger on his uniform, the Captain placed the tip of the plug against the twitching asshole and shoved it in, hard. His slave yelped and spoke an unintelligible phrase in a tone that implied a curse. Daniel's fingers tightened once, and then released.

"That's all right, then, sir." The Captain handed him the papers and nodded, his eyes lingering on Daniel's slave for a moment longer than absolutely correct, but Daniel was not going to make a fuss. He just wanted to get out of the city, back to the open spaces where a man could travel for a day without seeing another human and spot his enemies from afar. He folded the papers and slid them into his pocket, then turned to his slave.

He was still leaning over Salimeh's neck, his scarlet face buried in her mane, his red ass raised off the saddle.

Daniel touched the side of his face gently, speaking to him as if to a frightened child.

"There, there, it's all over now," he murmured. "We're all finished here, and we can leave."

Brown eyes peered at him, blinking wetly, and before he realized what he was doing, Daniel leaned forward and brushed a kiss against his hot, damp cheek. His slave pulled back quickly, barking out an exclamation as his ass hit the saddle. Daniel spent a moment arranging the towel beneath him just so. After all, it would be foolish to hurry now, and then have to stop early because his slave could travel no farther. He ignored the twitch in his cock as his fingers brushed against the warm flesh, as he positioned the towel around the end of the plug. When he was finished, he looked up at his slave's furiously blushing face and schooled the smile from his lips.

It was time to be gone.

The road out of town was crowded for the first mile or two, then the traffic thinned as they left the cultivated lands and headed into the scrub.

Once they were relatively alone on the road, Daniel drew Salimeh alongside him and handed his slave a chunk of the bread he had purchased earlier. His slave bit off a large piece and chewed, his eyes half-closed in enjoyment.

"Bread," Daniel said, speaking slowly and clearly, holding his own piece up.

"Bread," his slave repeated dutifully, his mouth full.

When they finished the bread, Daniel peeled an orange and handed him the segments. "Orange," he said, and his slave nodded and repeated the name. His slave tasted the first segment tentatively, looking up at him with startled eyes. Daniel smiled and began to eat the segments of his own orange, the sweetly tart juice counteracting the dryness of the bread. It did not take long before both oranges were gone, and Daniel permitted himself the childish pleasure of licking the sticky juice off his fingers. After glancing at him, his slave followed suit.

The sight of that pink tongue sliding along those long fingers, the fingers disappearing inside that warm mouth was almost too much for Daniel. He tore his eyes away and unhooked his watersack from the saddle, dribbling water over his fingers to clean them before squirting a mouthful between his lips. He handed the sack to his slave, who also cleaned his fingers, then tried to imitate Daniel by aiming the opening toward his mouth and squeezing the skin.

Daniel laughed as his slave spluttered and wiped his face, glaring. It was not as easy as it looked, and he had practiced for several days when he was a boy to achieve just the right air of casual elegance. He showed his slave how to hold the sack up and pour the water into his mouth -- just as effective, but not nearly as showy. When he was finished, his slave handed the watersack back to him, bowing his head slightly and saying something softly. It had the air of a 'thank you.'

Deciding that they might as well continue the language lesson, Daniel placed his hand on his chest.

"Daniel el-Rydal," he said. "But you will call me 'Master.'" He repeated "Master" twice, then his slave said it. His accent was appalling, but it was understandable, and that was all that Daniel cared about.

"What shall I call you?" he asked, eyeing his slave thoughtfully. "Shal'oub? Fayd? Omar? Habib?" None of the names seemed to fit the man before him.

His slave frowned a little, then raised his bound hands to his chest and said "Casey Makall."

"Casey Makall?" Daniel chuckled at the absurd-sounding name. It would never do. He shook his head. "No, that is not a name for a slave... Kaseem, perhaps?"

His slave barked out a word and shook his head. "Casey," he said flatly.

"Kaseem." Daniel's eyes narrowed.

"Casey."

Without warning, Daniel reached out and smacked his slave's ass. The hurt and shock on his face almost made Daniel regret his action. Muttering something that Daniel could not hear, his slave twisted on the saddle, pulling on his bonds and rattling his chains, as if reminding himself of his situation.

Daniel decided to drop the matter for the moment. He needed to relieve himself and stretch, and if he didn't want his slave to be unable to move tomorrow, he should get him off Salimeh and have him walk around for a while.

Directing Zeina toward a small box canyon nearby, they left the road. He ignored his slave's quiet words -- they sounded like a question. If he thought he was going to be punished further for his stubbornness, so much the better. There were certain things that a slave-owner could not tolerate--

"Master?" The voice was so soft, so frightened, that he turned and bestowed a reassuring smile on his slave before he even realized what he was doing. Apprehensive brown eyes flickered over his face, and his slave said a few more words, his voice quavering once.

Daniel gestured toward his groin. "I must urinate," he said, but his slave's face suddenly drained of all color and he bit his lip, shaking his head rapidly.

A string of harsh, whispered syllables poured from the bloodless lips, the voice breaking with suppressed sobs as he pleaded unintelligibly. Daniel stared at him, taken aback by his response, until it suddenly dawned on Daniel what his gesture could have meant.

"No, no!" he said, "you misunderstand me." He thought for a moment, trying to decide how to explain such a personal process, but another look at his slave's frightened and miserable face made him opt for the direct approach. He grabbed the watersack, held it beside his hip and squirted out a short stream onto the ground. He pointed to himself again, and to the ground, nodding. "I'm not going to take you again," he said. "At least, not yet," he amended, and added "I simply have to pee."

His slave's cocked his head to one side and his face cleared a little. "Pee?" he said, hopefully. Daniel realized he must have heard that word when he was captured or being transported to the market.

He nodded again. "Yes, pee."

Relief flooded his slave's face and he pointed to himself. "Pee."

"Yes, of course." Daniel didn't think he would have to do much, because surely he had drunk precious little water over the past several days, but his slave would be permitted to pee if he needed to.

Zeina and Salimeh picked their way over the rough ground, finally reaching a small spring near the end of the canyon. The tough, scrub grass was a little greener beside the small trickle that appeared, miraculously, amongst the stones. Daniel dismounted and lay Zeina's reins over a rock. She would not move until he returned. Then he dipped two fingers in the pool, shaking them onto the grass, murmuring a prayer. He would do his business first, then unchain his slave. One could never be too careful with a new purchase, his father had taught him.

He moved away from the spring, unfastened his trousers and pulled out his cock. It was half-hard from the sight of his slave's tight ass, and the thought of what he would do tomorrow, when they reached home. It took him a few moments of concentration before he could relax enough to release his urine in a strong stream. He shook off his cock in a business-like manner and tucked it back in his trousers, refastening them. Rinsing his hands in the warm water of the spring, he then walked over to unchain his slave.

It would be an awkward business to get him off Salimeh with his hands still bound, but Daniel was a cautious man. He unchained his feet from the stirrups, and then unhooked his collar chain from the saddle, allowing it to dangle for the moment. When his slave held up his bound hands, Daniel shook his head.

His slave was weaker and stiffer than he had expected. The hardest part was having him swing his far leg over the saddle; if he leaned forward, he mashed his soft cock painfully into the hard leather, and if he leaned back, the plug was shoved deep inside. His bottom lip was swollen and bleeding from being bitten by the time Daniel managed to half-drag, half-lift him off the saddle, and when his feet hit the ground, he whimpered and his knees buckled. Daniel's strong grasp saved him from sprawling on the rocks, his bound hands clutched at Daniel's robes for support. They teetered together for a moment, until his slave managed to lock his knees and stand, swaying.

"Pee," he said, his voice growing desperate. Daniel pointed toward the place he had used, and his slave took a wobbly step, stumbling over a rock as his sandal caught. With an impatient sigh, Daniel took his arm and helped him over to the spot. His slave glanced up at him, his eyes pleading, but Daniel ignored the hint. He held onto his slave's arm and said, "pee," the order plain.

Scarlet suffused the pale face and he frowned, but he did not argue as he pushed aside the longer front of his tunic and awkwardly clasped his cock with his bound hands. It was more than a trickle, but the color was dark, the odor strong, and Daniel made a mental note to have him drink considerably more water over the next several days to stave off bladder infections.

He led his slave over to the spring, where his slave knelt and plunged both hands into the water, cupping them as much as his bonds would permit and raising them above his head. He spoke quickly, in a sing-song voice, and Daniel suspected it was a prayer. Then his slave allowed most of the water to trickle back into the spring and dashed the rest onto the dry earth. He rose with a grimace.

"We will walk for a bit," said Daniel, taking his arm again. He could have led him about on the end of the chain attached to his collar, but it would be silly to chance his slave falling on the stones, as weak as he was.

They paced slowly up and down the center of the canyon, where there was a relatively flat area. Twice his slave bent over suddenly, clutching his stomach and crying out briefly. Then he would straighten slowly, his face sweaty. It worried Daniel enough that the third time it happened, he insisted on returning to the spring. He helped his slave down onto one hip, propped on an elbow, and then gently palpated his stomach. A gasp and a sudden stream of urgent words were coupled with a frantic scrabbling as his slave pulled his knees under him and then moved into a squat.

Hands pulled at his robe as the urgent pleas grew, his slave's face turning red as he grunted, trying to expel the plug. It was against the rules, but Daniel didn't care. He grasped the plug and tugged it out quickly. Grunts turned into thin wails as he shivered. Daniel's mark of possession trickled out, pooling on the grass. Air passed, then a short gush of watery mucous, stained with blood. Daniel held on as his slave moaned and cried, the cramps making him sweat. Three more gushes of fluid poured from him, and then he calmed, his cries of pain trailing off into weak moans. Daniel dragged him over to a clean place on the grass and lay him on his side. It had been more than two days since he had last eaten, Daniel could tell. His slave drowsed, shivering occasionally, as Daniel decided what to do, and how much he was willing to risk for this new possession.

Tearing off a piece of the cloth beneath Salimeh's saddle-bags, he wet it in the spring and wiped the sweat from his slave's face and arms. He found the small bag the slave-seller had given him and searched through it, pleased when he found a jar of ointment. He used the cloth to wipe up the mess on his slave's ass, holding his hip when he tried to turn over and ignoring his startled shout.

"Hold still," he said irritably as his slave continued to wiggle. "You can't stay like this!" He continued to move as Daniel cleaned him, jerking his hips and crying out when the cloth passed over his hole. "Hold still!" Daniel yelled, frustrated at his slave's continued struggles. For pity's sake, he was just trying to help! Without warning, he pushed his slave's hip down until he was flat on his stomach, screeching and trying to scoot away. So Daniel sat heavily on his thighs and smacked his ass hard twice.

All movement and sound ceased, save rapid, panicky breaths. A tiny, muffled voice said "Master?" and Daniel lowered his hand and inhaled deeply, willing himself calm. "Remember," he told himself, "this is an untrained slave, who is not used to our customs and cannot speak our tongue. Patience will be rewarded."

"Master?" The voice sounded, if anything, even more frightened.

"Do not fear," he said, his voice gentle. "You are torn, and I must put some ointment in you. But I will not mark you again today." He saw a brown eye peering over a hunched shoulder, blinking rapidly. He sighed. Language lessons were going to commence as soon as possible. He picked up the jar and uncapped it, showing the contents to his slave. There was a muffled sob and the eye filled with water.

"No, no," he said. Then Daniel pointed to his groin and shook his head. "No." He raised his finger and pretended to scoop some of the ointment from the jar. "Yes." He nodded, and his slave buried his face in the grass and spoke, pleading.

"I must," he continued, absurdly desperate to make him understand. "You are injured, and this medicine will help--"

"Medicine?"

"Yes, medicine." He did not care to think about why his slave would know that word, and not 'bread' or 'water.'

His slave sighed. "Medicine," he said firmly, in a tone that granted permission.

His entire body tensed, however, when Daniel placed a hand on his ass, pulling one cheek to the side. It didn't surprise Daniel, considering how he had been taken earlier, but it disturbed him. He didn't wish his slave to be frightened, and that thought surprised him. Still, they had wasted enough time here, and must be on their way. Surely there was another way for him to--

He moved off his slave's legs and urged him onto his back. His face was still red and apprehensive, but he returned Daniel's smile tentatively, and that pleased Daniel. He leaned forward and unfastened the cuffs from each other, freeing his slave's hands. Then he urged his legs up and apart, showing him how to clasp them behind his knees and pull them higher. His slave blushed; after all, he was horribly exposed in this position, but at least he could see Daniel's face and would know what was going to happen. Daniel's father was a great believer in the advantages of knowing the worst, and Daniel agreed whole-heartedly with that philosophy.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said. "I want you to see what I'm doing."

The tunic front was pushed up past his waist, and Daniel could see his soft cock and balls, vulnerable and enticing. Picking up the jar, Daniel scooped a good amount of ointment on his forefinger, showing it to his slave, then gently circled his slave's red and swollen hole.

"Relax for me, relax your body."

A moan. He worked slowly, circling patiently until, with a shudder, his slave's body opened to him. He slid his finger inside, gently massaging the muscle, his mouth suddenly dry, his chest heaving painfully. Another moan, and he watched, mesmerized, as his slave's cock twitched and began to fill.

He continued his slow thrusting, crooking and twisting his finger to spread the ointment evenly. His slave shuddered and groaned, his growing cock dragging across his heaving belly, leaving a moist trail on the pale skin. Intrigued, Daniel repeated the crook and twist and suddenly his slave arched his back and cried out, his cock bobbing heavily.

"Master!"

The word sent a bolt straight to Daniel's cock and he rubbed it hard through his trousers, hissing with pleasure. Leaning forward, he ran another finger slowly down his slave's hard shaft, cupping and then gently pulling on his balls. He glanced up to his slave's face and inhaled sharply. His brown eyes were heavy-lidded, his mouth open, lips red and wet, and as Daniel watched, he threw back his head and wriggled his hips, his chest heaving.

Daniel grasped the hard cock before him and pumped it slowly, licking his own lips as his slave moaned and pulled his legs farther apart. His finger was squeezed tightly and he began to move it in small circles, loosening the muscle. A frantic groan, a whimper, and he sped up his hand, pumping strongly.

"Master..." An agonized whisper, a plea.

"Come for me," Daniel said roughly, his hand tightening, his finger plunging deeper. "Come for me now, Casey!"

With a shout that echoed in the narrow canyon, Casey orgasmed, his come fountaining over his stomach and chest, dripping over Daniel's hand. Daniel slowed his pumping, regretfully releasing Casey's softening cock. He lifted his sticky hand to his mouth, hesitated, then swiftly wiped it on the grass. He slid his finger out of Casey's still-spasming ass and turned away to wash his hands in the spring. When he turned back, he swallowed hard at the sight -- his slave... no, Casey, sprawled bonelessly on the grass, his legs spread wide, cock limp, his chest and belly heaving and splattered with come, his hole open and glistening.

"Master?" The thick satisfaction in that voice heated his groin. Daniel looked at his face and was rewarded with a shy smile. A short phrase, softly spoken, sounded familiar. Daniel suspected he was saying thank you.

He nodded brusquely and stooped to pick up the jar and stow it in the bag. He retrieved the plug and washed it off as Casey scrambled to his feet, his face wary, his hands behind him, covering his ass.

"Master?" He sounded nervous.

Daniel did not answer. He dried off the plug and stared at it for a minute, watching Casey's jerky movements out of the corner of his eye. He already knew what he was going to do. He had to regain the control that was so rapidly slipping from his fingers.

Daniel held up the plug in one hand and pointed to the ground in front of him with the other.

"Come here." The order was plain.

Casey flinched, his eyes roaming the canyon, but Daniel knew there was no way for him to escape. Even if he ran, he would be caught in a few steps. Daniel had chosen the spot carefully.

Taking a shaky breath, he raised his chin and moved to the spot indicated, his eyes never leaving Daniel's face.

"Plug," said Daniel, repeating the word. He looked at Casey expectantly.

Swallowing hard, Casey whispered "plug."

"Good." Daniel nodded, and stowed the plug in the small bag. The look of relief that crossed Casey's face was almost comic, but Daniel didn't feel like laughing. "You must learn a few more words before we leave here."

"Kneel." He placed both hands on Casey's shoulders and pressed down. Stumbling a little, Casey knelt before him. "Kneel."

Casey's eyes were wide as he looked up. "Kneel," he repeated.

"Yes. Now, stand." Daniel gestured, and Casey stood, nodding.

"Stand." There was a spark of excitement in his eyes that Daniel had not seen before. He gestured toward Zeina and Salimeh and raised his eyebrows.

"Horses," Daniel said. "Zeina," he pointed, "and Salimeh." Casey repeated his words, a small smile spreading over his face. Within a few minutes, he had learned the words for saddle, bridle, bit, reins, ears, eyes, mouth, neck, legs, tail, ground, rock, spring, grass, sky, and sun.

He turned solemn as he lifted the chain hanging from his collar and looked at Daniel inquiringly.

"Chain."

He nodded, softly repeating it. Then he pointed to the leather that encircled his neck, wrists, and ankles.

"Bindings."

Another nod, and he mouthed the word, but did not speak it aloud. He paused, his eyes lowered thoughtfully, one hand creeping around to cover one asscheek. Daniel looked at him closely, and he suspected where the questions would lead next. It was not a topic he wished to explore at the moment, so he clapped his hands sharply once. Casey jumped, startled, and looked ready to flee.

"Come," said Daniel, moving to stand beside Salimeh. "It is time for us to leave." Casey reluctantly walked over to him, and mounted Salimeh stiffly. Now that he didn't have the plug inside him, Daniel could see that his seat was quite good -- he had been trained well. Casey winced as he settled on his ass, so Daniel grabbed the towel and had him stand in the stirrups as he spread it over the saddle, then arranged it beneath him as he sat. A murmur greeted his action, and Daniel was rewarded with a smile and gracious nod. He wondered, not for the first time, who Casey had been before he was captured, but quickly shook off the thought. Casey was his slave now, and that was an end to any speculation.

Setting his jaw, Daniel grabbed the chain still attached to the stirrup and fastened it to his slave's ankle. He circled Salimeh and did the same for the other binding, resolutely ignoring the soft questions. He did not look up when he grabbed the clenched fists and bound them together, or when he attached the collar chain to the saddle. He simply fastened them in place and turned quickly, mounting Zeina in one smooth movement and then urging her back down the canyon toward the road, Salimeh following.

They rode in silence along the deserted road until the sun settled low in the west, their attenuated shadows crawling across the dusty ground beside them. Daniel was pleased that they did not meet any guards or soldiers along the way. Although he could legally argue that his slave's injury and need for medication excused the lack of the mark, it was not unheard of for an unmarked slave and his master to be harassed and even imprisoned for a few days. Daniel preferred to avoid any such difficulties.

Dusk was deepening as Daniel spotted the small inn where they would spend the night. It was a simple place, offering only a warm meal and a clean pallet on which to sleep, but the couple who ran the inn were honest and quietly friendly.

Riding into the courtyard, Daniel glanced back. Casey sat slumped on the saddle, his shoulders bowed, his eyes dull and half-closed. A stableboy ran out to greet them, only sparing Casey a glance before catching Zeina's bridle and welcoming Daniel. Sliding off Zeina, Daniel quickly unfastened Casey's chains and helped him to the ground. He could feel the shivers wracking Casey's lean body, and he half-dragged, half-carried him into the inn.

Mustafa met them at the door, his normally placid face creased in surprise as they stumbled in.

"I need help, Mustafa." Daniel tried to keep the panic from his voice. "He is ill..."

"Roya!" Mustafa called, and in a moment his wife bustled in, her smile disappearing as she rushed forward.

"Ah, the poor thing!" she said, pulling off her shawl and wrapping it around Casey's shoulders. "Husband, help them! This way, sir," and she led them through the warm and cheerful main room, flinging open the door to a small room at the back of the inn. Mustafa and Daniel practically carried Casey inside and lowered him gently onto a thick straw pallet covered with clean blankets.

Roya appeared with a lamp, which she set on a shelf and then knelt beside Casey. She lay her hand on his face, tsking softly, and pulled a blanket over his shivering body.

"He has a fever," she said, rising slowly. "It's not bad," she added as Daniel turned to her, fear gripping his gut, "but he must rest." She looked Casey over, frowning. "And eat."

"He had a little bread earlier, but it passed right through him." Daniel felt like he was apologizing for something that was not his fault.

"And before that?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "I just purchased him today."

Roya gazed at him steadily for a moment, then nodded once. "Well, he'll need broth tonight, and may be able to eat some bread tomorrow. I will see to it." With that, she was gone.

Daniel looked blankly at Mustafa.

"Did the stableboy meet you?" Mustafa asked. Daniel nodded, feeling stupid. "If you like, I will have him bring your belongings here, so that you may stay with your slave."

Daniel nodded again, and squatted on the floor beside the pallet. Casey's eyes were closed and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. He looked impossibly young and vulnerable. Daniel watched his hand raise and then stroke Casey's warm forehead.

Brown eyes fluttered open.

"Master?"

"Hush," he whispered, his hand still stroking. "You are ill. You need rest."

A tiny smile touched the corners of Casey's mouth and he turned a little, pressing warmly into his hand. Daniel blinked hard and stared at the lamp. If his eyes were going to water, he would give them a reason.

There was a knock on the door.

"Enter," Daniel called, and the stableboy brought in the saddlebags.

"I have unsaddled the horses and given them water and feed, sir," he murmured, his eyes fixed on the ground. "Would you like me to do anything else?"

"No." Daniel glanced at Casey, still and pale on the pallet, and shook his head. "I will check on the horses later." He dismissed the boy with a nod.

Daniel looked blankly at the saddlebags propped on the floor beside the other pallet and remained where he was, his hand still stroking Casey's warm forehead.

Another knock, and Roya bustled in, leading Mustafa who was carrying a laden tray. Roya's bright eyes flickered from Daniel to Casey, and lingered for a moment on Daniel's hand.

"I've brought your dinner, sir, as well as some broth for your slave. Mustafa!" He placed the tray on a low table below the small window and she picked up the broth and moved over to Casey. "I will feed him, sir, while you eat."

"No." The word was out of his mouth before he realized what he was going to say.

"Pardon, sir?"

Daniel opened his mouth again, then hesitated. "Yes," he finally said, giving Casey's forehead a final stroke and rising. "I am famished."

Roya sat in his place and began to slowly feed Casey the broth. Daniel watched him take three spoonfuls before turning away.

He pulled up the stool and dug into the fragrant bowl of stew. It was very good. Mustafa poured him a cup of thin, slightly sour wine, and he ate and drank quickly, his eyes constantly straying to the pallet across the room. When he was finished, he rose and stood behind Roya. The bowl was almost empty, and Daniel nodded approvingly as Casey opened his mouth and accepted another spoonful.

"Sir," Roya's voice was cautious.

"Yes?"

"There is blood seeping from beneath his bindings..." She pointed to a smear of red on Casey's wrist.

Daniel muttered a curse as he knelt beside her and snatched up Casey's arm, peering at it closely. There was blood, and it was fresh. Casey blinked at him, silent and watchful. With another curse, Daniel unfastened the bindings, pulling them off carefully as Casey winced. The skin beneath was raw and puffy, blood oozing from a deep rope burn.

"They must be treated," he said harshly, angry at the slave-seller and just as angry with himself. He gently unfastened the collar, biting back yet another curse at the sight of the purple marks encircling Casey's neck. His ankles were in worse shape, scabs and skin pulling away with the bindings.

"I have some very good salve," said Roya, closely examining the worst ankle. "Very soothing and efficacious. I will find some clean cloth to use as bandages, and he will heal quickly." She disappeared briefly, returning with a small pot and a bundle of rags.

Casey looked at Daniel as Roya opened the pot. "Medicine?"

Daniel nodded. "Medicine." He put his hand on Casey's shoulder, massaging it gently as Roya spread the salve over Casey's ankles and muttered prayers for healing before binding them with the rags. His wrists were next, then the deep marks around his neck. When Roya was finished, Casey softly touched her hand with his fingertips and murmured a few words. She looked at him, startled.

"I must check the horses," Daniel said quietly, catching Casey's eye.

"Zeina? Salimeh?" Casey struggled a little with the unfamiliar names.

"Yes. I will return soon."

"I'll stay with him until you return, sir." Roya took Casey's hand in both of hers and turned it palm up. "I will pray for his speedy recovery."

"Thank you." It was obvious that Roya followed the old religion, and even though he did not believe in her Goddess, prayers would always be welcome. Daniel could feel Casey's eyes on him as he left.

It did not take long to see that the horses had been treated properly and were dozing quietly in their stalls. Daniel stroked Zeina absently and noticed three other horses stabled there. They were obviously not the only visitors tonight. But as long as they were not disturbed, he didn't care if there was an army of guests staying.

He returned to their room through the back, avoiding the main room where he could hear the murmur of voices and an occasional laugh. Mustafa and the tray were gone, and Roya still knelt beside Casey's pallet, the soothing murmur of her prayers a comfort.

"The broth should sit quietly in him, sir," she said, frowning slightly as Casey shifted and murmured, already fast asleep, "but I will be near if you need me. I'll have Sharif sleep outside your door tonight, and if you call out, he will find me."

"Thank you, Roya. Your kindness will bring you great blessings."

"It is as the Goddess wills, sir. We can but do our best." She curtseyed and left.

Despite the relatively early hour, Daniel was exhausted and certainly not in the mood to leave Casey and pass the hours with strangers' small talk in the main room. He squatted down and watched Casey for a few minutes. The hand Roya had been holding lay on top of the blanket, curled slightly, relaxed in sleep. Daniel picked it up and stroked the soft palm. It was a strong hand, but there were no hard calluses, save one on the side of his middle finger. Not the hand of a soldier or laborer.

Daniel stifled a jaw-cracking yawn. He had to get some rest, so he laid Casey's hand back on the pallet and pulled the blanket over it, giving it a little pat. Then he stumbled over to his own pallet and stretched out, fully-clothed, and was asleep as his head hit the mattress.

He dreamed that storms were buffeting the inn, the winds howling and wailing through the windows and doorways. He turned and stirred, and realized that the wailing was coming from across the room. Feeling dopey and half-drugged, Daniel rolled from his bed and stumbled to Casey's pallet, belatedly realizing that he had not doused the lamp and grateful for its light.

Casey was panting and whimpering, his voice rising into a thin wail as he tossed on the bed, clutching his stomach. Daniel stared at him stupidly for a moment, then snapped awake as he realized what was happening. He ran to the corner and grabbed the chamber pot - he did not think there was time to get Casey outside to the privy.

Kneeling, he pulled Casey into his arms and helped him squat over the pot. He murmured soothingly as Casey shivered and moaned, tightening his grip as spasms and cramps led to the release of air and then liquid.

When Casey sighed in relief Daniel helped him back on the pallet, then poked his head out into the corridor to call Sharif. Roya was standing there, already dressed and waiting, carrying several articles. Daniel did not ask her how she knew she was needed, he simply opened the door and ushered her inside.

"What should I do?"

She set down the things she had brought, glanced at the contents of the pot, then had Sharif take it away to empty and clean it.

"He must be cleaned, first." She wet a cloth and knelt beside Casey, touching his shoulder. He looked at her, face slack with exhaustion, and she showed him the cloth. He nodded and blushed, rolling onto his stomach.

Roya wiped his ass, clucking softly as she examined his red and swollen hole. Casey hissed as she touched it gently, but remained still.

"His gut is irritated from lack of food," she said, turning to Daniel. "I suspected as much, and have prepared a soothing herbal wash for it, and have a better ointment than the one the slave-seller gave you." She indicated a filled watersack. "Place the cleansing nozzle on the end and have him take it all and hold it for a count of five hundred. When he has emptied himself, use this ointment inside and out, and spread it up as far as you can reach. Do you understand?"

Daniel blinked and nodded.

"Good," she said, and opened the door, collecting the chamber pot and a bucket that were standing there. "Have him use the bucket. The privies are too far, and the pot is not large enough. Here are some cloths for you to use, as well." She paused, shooting him a hard look. "Can you do that?"

"Yes, of course." Daniel went to retrieve the bag from the slave-seller. "Thank you."

"Do what I tell you and he will be much better tomorrow. Good night."

"Good night," Daniel said to the closed door. In the bag he found a long cleansing nozzle, normally reserved for preparing a slave for the binding ritual. He picked up the watersack. It felt warm to his touch. He attached the nozzle to the opening and knelt beside the bed.

"Casey?"

A red face turned from the pallet and looked at him miserably. Daniel took a deep breath. This was not going to be easy.

"Casey, you need medicine inside." Daniel pointed to Casey's belly. "I need to get the medicine there." Casey looked at the nozzle and watersack and shook his head.

"Yes, you must." Daniel pointed to the watersack. "Medicine. To help you."

Frowning, Casey stared at him for a minute, then buried his face in the mattress and nodded.

"Good." Daniel moved down his body, when Casey suddenly shifted and sat up, wincing as his ass hit the pallet. He held out his hands for the watersack and opened his mouth with an air of resignation.

Daniel stared at him. "No."

"No?" Casey looked at him, confused. "Medicine?"

"Casey," Daniel said, suddenly deeply embarrassed. Perhaps if he called Roya, she could-

No. Casey was his responsibility.

Daniel pointed to the nozzle. "This," he said slowly, "must go into you there," and he pointed to Casey's ass.

Casey looked shocked.

"No." He shook his head emphatically.

"Yes. Medicine."

"No." Casey bit his lip. The plea in his voice was apparent.

"Yes," Daniel said firmly. "Medicine. You want to be able to eat, don't you?"

"No, Master..." Casey closed his eyes.

"Casey," Daniel cupped his chin and his brown eyes flew open. "Medicine," he said, nodding. "Now please, turn over and let's get this over with."

Lips compressed tightly, Casey slowly lowered himself back onto his elbows, then lay back and pulled up his knees, catching them with his hands and opening them wide.

Daniel shook his head. "I'm sorry, but you have to be on your belly." He made a circular motion with his finger. Casey's face crumpled.

"No," he whispered.

"Yes, you must." Daniel watched, hating himself and what he had to do, as Casey lowered his legs and rolled over, spreading his legs and burying his head in his arms. He clasped Casey's hip and urged it up until Casey was on his knees, ass in the air. His shoulders shook as Daniel scooped a little salve on his finger and pushed it into Casey's hole.

"I'm putting the nozzle in, now," he said, resting one hand on Casey's ass in warning.

Casey gasped and a shudder ran through his body as the nozzle slid inside.

"Here's the medicine." Daniel released the neck of the watersack and Casey cried out as the water and herbs flowed inside him. Gradually his cries quieted and he moaned softly, panting as the sack emptied. Daniel squeezed the sack as it grew limp, causing Casey to shiver as the nozzle shifted. Finally, it was empty.

"Casey, you must hold the medicine inside as I count," he said, pressing a finger on either side of the nozzle and pulling it out slowly. As soon as it was completely out, he dropped the sack and pressed hard against Casey's hole.

"One. Two. Three. Four..." He counted softly, as Casey shifted his hips and called out questioningly.

"Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen." Casey was wiggling his hips now, and Daniel squeezed his cheeks together with his other hand.

By the time he had reached thirty, Casey was up on his hands and knees, arching his back and groaning. Daniel was having a hard time keeping hold of him and his patience was fading.

"Casey! Stop moving!" He tightened his grip, but Casey fought harder. Pressing his fingers more firmly against his ass, Daniel smacked his cheeks hard. Casey immediately stilled, his panting breaths loud in the suddenly quiet room.

"Good..." Daniel took a deep breath and received an inspiration. "Count with me, Casey. One. Two. Three..." It did not take long before Casey caught the pattern and began to mutter the numbers along with Daniel, waiting for him to name the decade, then chiming in with the units. He groaned when they reached one hundred and Daniel continued. His body was covered with a light sheen of sweat when they reached two hundred, and he dropped to his elbows as Daniel said "three hundred."

His ass was quivering and his skin was flushed and sticky when Daniel moved on to four hundred, and he rasped out a question.

"Soon, soon," Daniel said, stroking the damp flesh of his ass and thighs. At four hundred fifty Daniel stopped, reasoning that he had at least reached fifty during the first count. He helped a shivering Casey over to the bucket, and supported him as he let the water pour out.

When Casey was finished, he half-carried him back to the pallet, then took the bucket to the door and directed a groggy Sharif to empty it outside. Daniel dampened a cloth and wiped Casey's face and arms, then tugged off his crumpled tunic and sponged down his chest, back and legs. He resolutely ignored the fact that Casey's cock was furiously red and erect, swaying heavily as he breathed.

Casey lay on his back, half-asleep, and Daniel hated to disturb him, but he had to finish Roya's instructions.

"Casey?" He shook his shoulder gently. "Casey, there's just one more thing..." When Casey opened his eyes and stared blearily at Daniel, he held up the jar of salve. "Medicine."

Casey groaned, but obediently raised his legs and spread them wide, holding them tightly behind his knees as Daniel had shown him.

Daniel's cock throbbed at the sight of Casey's red, twitching hole. He rubbed himself through his trousers surreptitiously, cursing his own exhaustion and Casey's illness. He had to wait until the binding ritual before spilling his seed again, but it was tempting to ignore custom, to break the rules and simply bring himself to climax here.

No.

Scooping up some salve, his finger circled Casey's hole until Casey moaned and relaxed and he could slide right in. Roya had told him to put it in deeply and evenly, so he twisted his finger, spreading it over the fluttering muscles, before withdrawing and scooping up more. This time he pushed his finger in almost to the top knuckle and Casey bit back a yell, his cock jumping. The crown of his cock was red, suffused with blood, and drooling, moisture leaking down the sides.

Succumbing to a sudden impulse, Daniel leaned forward and licked it.

Casey howled and bucked, driving Daniel's finger deeper.

"Quiet!" Daniel spoke sharply. Casey's eyes flew open as Daniel pressed a finger to his lips. "Hush."

Nodding, Casey covered his mouth with his hand. Daniel withdrew his finger and Casey moaned, the sound muffled by his hand. This time Daniel coated two fingers with salve and pushed them inside, twisting and working them deep in Casey's ass. He leaned forward again and slid his lips over the top of Casey's cock, dragging his tongue over the swollen crown. The taste was bitter, slightly salty, strangely compelling. Casey's muffled cries encouraged him to wrap his other hand around the shaft and pump it hard.

His slick fingers plunged into Casey, sliding over the tender skin, making Casey writhe. While his tongue worked busily on the crown, he kept up his merciless pumping of Casey's shaft, glorying in the fact that his hands and mouth had created the bucking, moaning man beneath him. He felt like a god.

After one particularly deep thrust and brutal twist of Daniel's fingers, Casey grunted urgently and tried to push his head away. Daniel did not move, he just held on to Casey's cock more firmly, and waited for the inevitable. It did not take long.

When Casey threw back his head and let out a muffled roar, cock pumping, Daniel felt the hot come fill his mouth. He swallowed a little, allowing the rest to fall back onto Casey's cock and his hand. Then he sat up and pulled his hand from Casey's spasming ass, surveying his handiwork.

If anything, Casey looked even more desirable than the first time. His eyes shone, and the sweetest, most gentle smile touched his lips. The hair on his chest was damp and matted, plastered to his flat, panting belly. His cock lay, half-hard, against one thigh, the balls turning slowly in their sacks. His ass... Daniel had to look away, because Casey's asshole glistened and pulsed, presenting a seductive invitation for Daniel to fill it with his hard cock.

Succumbing to temptation again, Daniel leaned forward and kissed Casey's open mouth, pressing their lips together hard before tearing himself away. Casey looked at him, eyes wide and jaw slack with surprise.

"Master?" He sounded incredulous, and when he touched his fingers to his lips and frowned, Daniel scrambled to his feet, his face hot.

"Well, that should hold you for tonight," he said roughly, and he wet a cloth and cleaned his sticky hand, then rinsed his mouth. Wetting another cloth, he tossed it to Casey, who was staring at him, bewildered. "Clean yourself up."

Then he turned and fell into his bed, facing the wall.

"Master?"

He ignored the inquiry, pretending to be asleep. He did not think that Casey was fooled, but for whatever reason, he did not call Daniel again.

A muffled cry and rustling woke Daniel, and he rolled over stiffly, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"Good morning, sir," Roya greeted him. She was kneeling beside Casey's pallet, re-wrapping one of his wrists.

"Morning," Daniel croaked and groaned as he sat up.

"Pardon my presumption, sir," she continued, "but I wanted to apply more salve and fresh bandages before I began my chores."

Daniel grunted and rose, stumbling across the room to the washbasin. He ducked his face and hands in the cold water and dried them quickly. He glanced over at Roya, still busy with Casey's bandages.

"Can he eat now?"

She looked at him solemnly, her eyes suddenly wary. "No. He should have another treatment and some herbal infusions, and rest for today. Perhaps by this evening he'll be able to take some bread..."

"I wanted to leave this morning, so that we would be home by nightfall."

"Yes, sir." Her mouth tightened and she stared fixedly at Casey's ankle as she applied more salve.

"He could rest after the journey." Daniel frowned at his slave.

"Possibly, sir."

"Possibly? What do you mean by that?"

"He might not survive the journey."

"Why wouldn't he?" Daniel looked at Roya indignantly. "It's only twelve hours or so."

She sat back on her heels and faced Daniel squarely. "He can barely drink, he cannot keep food inside, and he is as weak as a kitten. You can chain him to the horse, but there is no guarantee that he will live to reach your destination."

Daniel stared at her, stunned. His eyes flickered to where Casey lay, unmoving, as Roya got to her feet.

"Shall I tell Sharif to prepare your horses for the journey, sir?"

Closing his mouth with a snap, Daniel shook his head. "No, we will rest here today."

"Very good, sir." Roya gathered up the salve and extra bandages. "I will bring your breakfast and what you will need for the next treatment." She disappeared out the door.

Daniel looked around the suddenly stifling room and strode to the door. He would check on the horses while he waited for breakfast.

He returned when he saw Mustafa cross the courtyard carrying a tray. Roya was standing over Casey, who sat, propped against the wall, cradling a steaming cup in his hands.

Daniel did not say anything as he crossed to the table and sat. The taste of the hot, bitter coffee helped him shake the last of the sleep from his brain, and he dipped a hunk of bread into a mixture of yoghurt and honey and bit off a mouthful.

"Sir?" He looked up. Roya pointed to the corner, where there was a familiar collection of objects. "I have placed everything there. When you are finished, he should sleep again."

Daniel turned back to his coffee and nodded. "Thank you, Roya."

He could see her hesitate out of the corner of his eye, but she turned and left without saying anything further.

He ate slowly, drawing out his breakfast as long as possible. There was no sense in hurrying, since they were stuck there for the day. Thanks to his slave.

Finally he finished and looked across the room. Casey looked exhausted, his face drawn and the thin skin under his eyes was dark. He was still holding the cup, but his head leaned heavily against the wall and his eyes were closed.

For a second, Daniel hated him.

Then he pressed his lips together and rose. "Let's get this over with," he said abruptly.

Casey's eyes flew open and he looked steadily at Daniel. He leaned forward and set the cup on the floor, then slowly pushed the blanket off of his body and kicked it to one side. Daniel swallowed as his groin and thighs were exposed, as the soft cock he had held in his mouth lay flaccid in curly hair. Turning abruptly, he picked up the watersack and nozzle, wondering vaguely why his hands were shaking.

He almost dropped them when he faced the pallet. Casey was on his elbows and knees, ass high, waiting.

Daniel uttered a curse and dropping the watersack and nozzle to the floor. Casey looked up as he grabbed his robe and dashed out the door. He found Roya in the kitchen.

"Give him the treatment," he rasped. "I will pay you extra."

"Sir?" she said as he ducked out through the door.

"I will be back later," he yelled, practically running to the stable. He saddled Zeina himself and mounted, urging her into a gallop.

"God help me," he thought miserably as they flew along the dusty road, his robe billowing behind him. "God must help me, for I cannot help myself..."

Daniel returned when the sun was high. He fed and watered Zeina, despite Sharif's assurances that it was not necessary, then strode over to the open kitchen door. The smell of warm, fresh bread was almost overwhelming, and his forgotten stomach rumbled threateningly.

He stood in the doorway for a few moments before his sun-dazzled eyes adjusted to the relative dimness of the fire-lit room. Low murmurs and a muffled giggle drew his attention to the back.

"Oh, sir!" Roya approached him, wiping her hands on a cloth tied around her waist. "Shall I have one of the girls bring your lunch?"

"Yes, thank you." Daniel glanced down, feeling awkward. "My slave... How is he?"

"Much better," she said, a small smile lifting the corners of her mouth. "He is here."

Daniel stepped inside, his eyes following her gesture toward the bench by the fire.

"Casey?"

He stared. It was Casey, but a Casey he had never seen before: clean and clothed, his hair washed and brushed smooth, gleaming in the firelight. He was shelling peas into a bowl on his lap, two of the girls Zeina employed as kitchen help fluttering around him. He spotted Daniel and his eyes widened. Then he ducked his head and seemed to shrink against the wall.

"I hope you do not mind, sir, but I permitted him to bathe and gave him one of Mustafa's old robes. His tunic was unwearable, and I took the liberty of burning it." Roya spoke softly, but the tone of her voice brooked no discussion.

Daniel tore his eyes from Casey and stared at her, bewildered. "But the soldiers... He has not been bound... What if they ask..."

She made a sound that could have been a snort. "There will be no soldiers on the road, and tomorrow you will travel to your home undisturbed. Nothing will stop you from committing-" She stopped abruptly and turned to one of the girls. "Jaka, take el-Rydal Effendi's lunch through. Sir," she continued to Daniel, "if you will go to the keeping room, Jaka will bring your lunch to you."

Daniel nodded, his eyes straying to where Casey sat, head lowered, his shaking hands fumbling with the pea pods. "He is frightened of me," Daniel thought, and the idea pained him. "Was he able to eat anything, Roya?" he asked abruptly.

"Yes, sir" she said, nodding. "Broth and a nourishing tea, as well as a little custard. He should be able to manage bread and perhaps a little yoghurt by this evening."

"Good."

Daniel turned on his heel and left the kitchen. He sat alone in the keeping room, turning the image of Casey sitting by the fire over and over in his mind until Jaka brought him his lunch.

He ate slowly, hardly tasting the food. When he was finished, he called for hot water and washed the dust and sweat from his body and hair. He tried to stretch out for a nap, but sleep would not come, and after an hour of tossing and turning, he gave up and wandered into the courtyard. Daniel was startled to see two new horses that were stabled next to his, a bay with a blaze nickering in her stall, and a stolid grey. Despite Roya's assurances that no soldiers would be on the road now, he headed for the kitchen. He wished to know who the strangers were before he could relax.

Mustafa was sitting by the window, repairing a broken stool. Daniel leaned against the doorjab, his arms crossed over his chest, ignoring the soft voices from the other end of the room. He kept his eyes fixed on Mustafa's calloused hands.

"Handsome bay in the stable," he said casually.

Mustafa grunted. "Handsome enough, but-" He looked up sharply, as if remembering to whom he was speaking. "A fine animal," he added.

"Who's the owner?" Daniel kept his tone light.

"A merchant who passes this way frequently - Ysak el-Yafe. He is..." Mustafa's eyes flickered over to where, Daniel presumed, Casey still sat. "El-Yafe Effendi is a man who keeps very much to himself, and has no love for... many things," he finished enigmatically.

"What my husband is trying to say," said Roya from across the kitchen, "is that you and your slave have nothing to fear from him. He cares nothing for the King's rules, or the customs of your family. You might enjoy speaking with him, however. He has many interesting things to say."

Daniel chuckled without humor. "Thank you, Mustafa." He bowed toward the back of the room. "And you as well, Roya. I shall do as you suggest."

He found el-Yafe in the keeping room. He was a Nubian, past his middle-years, but still strong and hearty, and he looked at Daniel with undisguised suspicion. The young man who had been sitting beside him paused, half-way to his knees, his dark eyes as wary as the older man's, and then dropped to the floor, his head bowed.

"Good day, sir," el-Yafe said.

"Good day." Daniel's attention turned from the young man to the older one. "I am Daniel el-Rydal, first-born son of Yakob." He bowed. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

El-Yafe narrowed his eyes and then suddenly smiled. "El-Rydal, eh? My name is Ysak el-Yafe. I am also pleased to make your acquaintance, Daniel, son of Yakob. I have heard of your father, of course."

Daniel sat, looking pointedly at the young man kneeling at el-Yafe's feet, well-dressed and well-fed, obviously a slave, but one whose master permitted him to sit beside him when no one else was present. Ysak ignored his obvious interest, and Daniel was even more intrigued.

They spoke of general topics - the state of the roads, the rumors of unrest in the north, the price of a good horse. El-Yafe was well-informed and spoke knowledgeably about politics, as well as the difficulties faced by business owners, and Daniel found the afternoon passed quickly.

They were in the middle of a discussion about the recent news from the north. While he was in the city, Daniel had heard that General Bourgoulla's rout of the northern troops was in response to an attack on one lightly-defended border city. El-Yafe turned to his slave and dropped a hand on his shoulder.

"You were speaking with the... with those of your acquaintance at the Palace, Jarem. What did they have to say?"

The slave frowned a little but spoke up readily. "They confirmed the rumor, sir. It seems that the northern troops were being led by one called the Hammer, who is well-known for being quick-tempered and impulsive. According to... my sources, this Hammer attacked Dar Es Salla during the High Holy days, when the defenses were light, and permitted his troops to ransack the city. General Bourgoulla was sent to find the Hammer and crush him, which he did."

"Thank you, my boy," said El-Yafe, absently patting his shoulder. Jarem smiled up at him and pushed heavy black locks from his eyes, his plain face transformed by the expression.

"Did they capture many prisoners during the battle?" Daniel asked el-Yafe.

"I heard that-" Jarem began, but broke off suddenly as el-Yafe's fingers tightened on his shoulder. His face flushed a painful red.

"Forgive the impertinence of this one," said el-Yafe easily. "He has been much indulged and forgets himself." Jarem ducked his head, and Daniel could only see his scarlet ears. "But truth to tell, el-Rydal Effendi, he is bright and I find him invaluable, so I put up with his familiar ways."

Daniel nodded, suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation. "Yes, I understand the impulse." He stretched out his legs and tried to appear nonchalant. "I just purchased a slave and am bringing him home for binding. But he grew ill and I agreed to postpone the rest of the journey until tomorrow, to give him time to recover. Many would consider that an unnecessary indulgence."

El-Yafe nodded slowly, his black eyes regarding Daniel with an unfathomable expression. "Your kindness will bring you great blessings, El-Rydal Effendi, of that I am sure."

"It is not simply kindness, El-Yafe Effendi, but sound economic sense. You of all people should understand that."

"Yes, of course. But the gods look favorably upon those who treat the helpless and infirm with kindness." He ruffled Jarem's hair fondly. "This one would surely be with the gods if I had not intervened. I found him on the roadside, half-dead with cold and exhaustion, his so-called Master busy flogging his only horse to death for being ill. A little kindness on my part has paid me back a hundred-fold and more."

"I hope for the same from my new slave," said Daniel. "He reportedly can read and write, and once he learns our tongue, I have hopes that he will be able to take certain burdens from my shoulders."

"He is a foreigner?"

Daniel nodded. "He was captured with a group of northern warriors, but is obviously not a warrior himself. He is bright and eager to learn, but communication is... difficult."

El-Yafe looked thoughtful. "I can speak a few words in several of the northern tongues, and Jarem has a smattering. I hope you don't think it presumptuous, but I would be happy to offer our services as a translator, if you wish."

"They speak more than one language?"

Jarem nodded, opened his mouth, and then closed it quickly. El-Yafe chuckled. "He's irrepressible. There are... five? six? different tongues?" He looked at Jarem.

"Seven," he said, "if you count high and low Gaulish, which seem to share a similar structure, but-" He stopped abruptly when el-Yafe nudged him with his knee.

"I had no idea..." Daniel said slowly. "That might explain their difficulty in uniting under a single crown."

"Well, it certainly doesn't make it any easier." El-Yafe paused. "Shall I send Jarem to fetch your slave?"

Daniel hesitated for a moment. El-Yafe seemed anxious to offer his services, even a little over-anxious. But perhaps he was simply being kind. "Yes, thank you. It would be a great help to me. I believe your slave will find him in the kitchen."

El-Yafe's eyes flashed for a second and some indefinable expression crossed his face, and he gave Jarem's shoulder a pat. "Fetch el-Rydal Effendi's slave." Jarem nodded and hurried out the door. El-Yafe turned to Daniel. "Have you given him a name yet?"

Daniel shifted uncomfortably and his face grew warm. "Ah, well, you spoke of indulging your slave, and I must admit that I'm guilty of the same weakness. He wishes to keep his name, and I hadn't the heart to deny him, especially during his illness." He frowned. "Many would chide me for allowing this, but it's such a little thing..."

El-Yafe chuckled. "Loyalty and trust are inspired by little things, Effendi. I would venture to say that you have started out well."

Daniel wasn't certain if he'd agree that he had started out well, but before he could reply, Jarem stood in the doorway, Casey a step behind him.

El-Yafe inhaled sharply. Daniel glanced at him, surprised to see el-Yafe start from his seat, then sit down hard. His mouth was moving, but Daniel could not hear what he was saying.

Daniel turned back to Jarem and Casey, bewildered. What in the name of the five holy shrines was happening?

Daniel glanced at el-Yafe. Now he was sitting casually, looking at the fingernails of his right hand, his black eyes hooded.

"You may sit here, Casey," Daniel said, pointing to a stool beside his feet. Without a word, Casey moved to the stool and sat, his hands folded in his lap and his head bowed. His sun-streaked hair gleamed in the firelight, the flickering light picking out the strong planes of his face.

"Did you speak to him, boy?" Daniel asked Jarem, who shook his head and knelt beside his master.

"What would you like to ask him, el-Rydal Effendi?" El-Yafe's voice was soft, and his hand crept to rest on Jarem's shoulder. Daniel thought he could see it quiver slightly as his dark fingers dug into the folds of Jarem's tunic.

"First, I'd like to make it clear to him that he will be my personal slave. He will have duties in my household, and will be answerable to me alone. He does not need to fear. If he pleases me, he will have an easy, comfortable life."

El-Yafe leaned forward, his eyes intent. "Casey?"

After giving Daniel a sidelong glance, he raised his head and looked steadily at el-Yafe.

El-Yafe spoke a few words and Casey's face lit up. He smiled and responded, his voice low, and Daniel felt a small pang of jealousy that he was not the reason for Casey's joy.

"I asked him which language he speaks," el-Yafe said to Daniel. "Fortunately, he speaks at least four of the northern tongues, so between all three of us, we should have no difficulty."

Daniel nodded, and listened carefully as el-Yafe and Jarem haltingly spoke, occasionally consulting each other. Casey's smile faltered and faded as they conveyed Daniel's message. By the time they had finished, Casey was staring at the floor, his hands clenched in his lap.

"Does he understand?" Daniel asked.

El-Yafe spoke briefly to Casey, who nodded slowly. He chewed on his lip, then raised his head abruptly and barked out a question. El-Yafe looked taken aback and a blush spread over Jarem's face.

"He wants to know how... personal a slave he will be," said el-Yafe primly.

"That depends on how well he pleases me," snapped Daniel, affronted at such a personal question from a slave, of all things. "Although he seemed to enjoy himself yesterday."

El-Yafe cleared his throat, looking distinctly uncomfortable, and stammered out a few sentences. Casey whirled toward Daniel, his eyes blazing, his jaw set. For a moment, Daniel wondered if he was going to spring from his stool and attack. He shifted his hand to his belt where his dagger hung and met Casey's eyes, thrilled by the fire in their depths, by the way they suddenly widened. When Casey's tongue darted out to wet his lips, it took all of Daniel's self-control not to drag him to the floor and take him right there.

Casey's eyes flickered, then fell, and he nodded once. Daniel felt a surge of triumph, but he schooled the smile from his lips and reached out, cupping Casey's chin and lifting his head until Casey reluctantly met his gaze.

"I told you I would make it good for you," Daniel murmured, running his fingers over Casey's silky hair, around the curve of his ear, over his lips. "After the binding, I will always make it good for you..."

He heard Jarem speak strangely muffled words. All Daniel's attention was focused on the man before him, on the warm, trembling flesh beneath his fingers. Casey gasped and squeezed his eyes shut. A single tear glistened at the corner of his eye, then trailed down his pale cheek. Daniel wiped it away with his thumb, then licked the salty drop, not caring that el-Yafe and his slave were witnesses to his weakness.

Casey spoke softly, a question. He opened his eyes and Daniel willingly fell into their depths.

"What is the binding?" asked Jarem. Daniel never took his eyes from Casey as he answered.

"It is where you are presented to my family as my slave, and your mark of possession is made permanent. After that, you will always be mine."

Casey met his gaze and spoke again, but his words were a rapid sing-song that sounded vaguely familiar. When neither el-Yafe or his slave translated, Daniel tore his eyes away.

"What is he saying?" he rasped, his throat suddenly tight.

El-Yafe raised his eyes, and Daniel was startled by their bleak expression. "He prays," said el-Yafe in a whisper.

"For deliverance?"

El-Yafe jerked his head once. "No," he said, and his voice was as bleak as his eyes. "He prays for the strength to endure..."

Daniel was stunned. "Are my touches so repugnant to him?" He whirled to Casey, grabbing his shoulders tightly, feeling the heat of anger blaze through him. Casey stared at him, wide-eyed, his lips still moving. "Do I disgust you? Do I?" he shouted, shaking Casey as el-Yafe translated.

"No!" Casey shouted, his head jerking as Daniel shook him. "No!" A stream of words poured from him, and Daniel released him abruptly and stood.

"What does he say?"

El-Yafe swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on Casey, who sat slumped on the stool, face hidden by the fall of his hair. "He says that you do not disgust him, far from it. He has never..." El-Yafe hesitated, then turned to Jarem and nodded.

Jarem flashed his master a worried glance and continued. "He has never felt such pleasure as that which you have given him with your hands and mouth. He says he is yours to do with as you please."

Daniel took a deep, shaky breath and ran a hand through his hair. His knees felt weak and he sat down heavily. It was hard to breathe, hard to swallow, hard to think of anything other than the man sitting next to him.

"Tell him..." he began, forcing the words out of his tight throat. "Tell him that..." Shaking his head, frustrated, he cupped his fingers under Casey's chin again and raised his head. "I will give you so much... You have no idea..."

Jarem murmured a translation. Casey's eyes fluttered closed and he nodded, panting softly.

"Sir?" Daniel quickly dropped his hand and looked up at Mustafa, standing in the doorway.

"Yes?"

"Would you like your dinner now, sir? Roya has it prepared, if you are ready to eat."

"Yes, I would," replied Daniel, struggling to regain his composure, "and I would be honored if el-Yafe Effendi would share my table."

"It would be my honor," said el-Yafe quickly. "And if I might make a suggestion, el-Rydal Effendi..." He paused, looking at Daniel questioningly.

"Of course."

"Since we are the only guests, would you object to including our... slaves in the invitation? That way we can eat and continue whatever additional translations you might wish."

It was an unusual request, certainly, but Daniel only took a moment before he nodded in agreement. "An excellent idea, Effendi." Strangely, El-Yafe looked relieved.

Mustafa bowed, his face a careful blank, and left. Daniel had no idea how much he had overheard, but he was not worried. Mustafa was not a gossip. In a few moments, Sharif entered and arranged the tables for dining. He looked slightly startled when Daniel beckoned Casey to the seat beside him at the table, but he quickly finished his tasks and disappeared.

Mustafa and Roya entered a moment later, bearing trays. Daniel's mouth watered at the rich fragrance of the thick stew set before him. Warm, fresh bread and wine completed the meal. He looked over at Casey's bowl. The contents looked different. "What have you given him?" he asked Roya.

"Soup, sir, suitable for delicate stomachs. He may also have bread," she added, pointing to the bread and smiling for Casey's benefit. "But I would water his wine, sir."

"Thank you, Roya." Daniel made sure Casey's wine was mixed with water, and handed him a chunk of bread before starting his own meal. They ate in silence for a while - Daniel could not believe how hungry he was - and he kept a watchful eye on how much Casey ate.

"What shall we ask him now, el-Rydal Effendi," said el-Yafe suddenly.

Daniel paused, his spoon half-way to his mouth. "Ask him if he has any questions about his duties."

El-Yafe hesitated, then blurted, "Would you like to know more about how he was captured? Or something about his life before..." His voice trailed off and he quickly took a drink of wine.

Daniel set down his spoon and pushed his bowl to one side. "I do not think," he said quietly, but very, very firmly, "that it does any good for a new-made slave to remember his previous life. He must set it aside, forget who and what he was, merely using his skills for his new master's benefit. To remind him of what was would be unnecessarily cruel, to my mind."

El-Yafe's eyes narrowed and his expression hardened, but he nodded once and stared at his bowl. "Your words are true, Effendi, and I did not mean to give offense. I simply thought that you might be interested in his story."

"I am," Daniel said. "I wish to know everything about him, and one day I will. But not just yet, when the wounds are still fresh and the world he must inhabit is still bewildering." Daniel picked up his spoon with an air of finality.

After an awkward pause, el-Yafe spoke of generalities again, and the remainder of their meal passed quietly. Daniel was pleased when Casey finished his bowl of soup and bread, and filled his cup with water and wine when he drained it. He wondered briefly why it did not bother him to wait upon his slave, but he quickly dismissed the thought.

When Mustafa came to clear away their plates, Daniel stood and beckoned Casey. "It has been a great pleasure to speak with you, el-Yafe Effendi, and I am in your debt for your services as translator. But it is time for us to retire; we must depart early in the morning and we have a long day's journey before us." Daniel bowed his head. "My home is always open to you, Effendi. It would be a pleasure to speak with you again."

El-Yafe acknowledged Daniel's bow with one of his own. "It has been our very great pleasure, el-Rydal Effendi, and I hope one day to take up your kind offer of hospitality. Safe journey tomorrow. May the gods always look upon you favorably, and may you and yours gain their blessings."

Daniel led Casey back to their room, where they spent a productive half-an-hour in a language lesson. Casey learned the names for many household items, such as bed, room, chair, and practiced a few useful phrases, such as "please" and "thank you." Although tacitly ignored, Casey's admission shimmered between them, tentative and fragile. When Daniel suddenly looked up at Casey, he would have sworn he saw it, delicate threads connecting them, already wrapped around their aching bones.

"It's time to sleep," Daniel said abruptly, pointing to Casey's pallet. Eyes lowered, Casey nodded, rising and walking over to the corner. Daniel stripped off his robe and shirt, turning when he heard Casey grunt. Casey was squatting beside his bed, his robe hiked up to his waist, trying to apply Roya's salve to his ass.

"Curse me, I forgot," Daniel muttered, his cock stirring uncomfortably at the sight of those pale cheeks and the finger tentatively moving between them. "Casey," he said, shaking his head when Casey looked up. "I will do that." Daniel held his hand out for the jar of salve, and, with a blush and a bow of his head, Casey gave it to him.

Daniel's hands were gentle as he tugged the robe over Casey's head and urged him back onto the pallet. Face scarlet, Casey lay back and spread his legs, his cock already hard and leaking, his hole tight and glistening. Daniel bit back a moan, his throbbing cock pushing painfully against the soft cotton of his trousers.

Applying salve to his finger, he pushed it slowly into Casey's ass, working it in deeply. Casey panted and groaned, his hips shifting restlessly as Daniel plunged his finger in and pulled it out, twisting it to spread the salve evenly.

"Please," Casey whimpered when Daniel pulled his finger out to scoop up more salve. "Please, Master."

His plea hit Daniel's groin like fire. He leaned forward and wrapped his lips around the head of Casey's cock, pushing two fingers deep into his hole. Casey let loose a muffled shout, half his hand stuffed into his mouth, as Daniel slid his lips further down the shaft and dragged his tongue over the tightly stretched skin.

Closing his eyes, Daniel concentrated on the taste of Casey, the feel of his fingers deep inside Casey's hot, spasming ass, and felt a wash of such joy and tenderness that he was completely unsurprised when his own cock suddenly jerked and pulsed and his trousers grew damp. He sucked harder, gave his fingers a brutal twist, and his mouth was filled with Casey's cock and Casey's seed.

He swallowed thickly, his fingers stilling, buried to the knuckles, and he sucked and licked the velvety skin that was softening in his mouth. Fingertips tentatively touched his cheek and he opened his eyes, greeted by the sight of a gently smiling Casey. His caresses grew bolder, traveling over Daniel's eyebrows and down the length of his nose, playfully brushing the tip. His eyes darkened and he hesitated, then slowly touched Daniel's lips, still stretched around his limp cock.

Daniel let Casey's cock slip from his lips and lunged forward, capturing Casey's mouth and kissing him demandingly. He licked and sucked and nibbled until Casey was groaning deep in his throat and pushing down hard on Daniel's fingers. When Daniel twisted his hand, Casey grunted sharply and wriggled.

"Sorry," murmured Daniel, pulling out his fingers and giving Casey a pat. "Let's get you cleaned up, and then sleep." He dampened a cloth and wiped Casey's ass and groin, then looked down at the wet spot on the front of his trousers and sighed. Casey reached up, his fingers groping for the fastening of Daniel's trousers, but Daniel shook his head and gently pushed Casey's hands away. "Go to sleep," he said, stumbling over to his own pallet, willing his thickening cock to sleep as well.

"Thank you, Master..." sleepily drifted from the far corner of the room.

Daniel squeezed his eyes shut. Only one more day.

Daniel woke at dawn, the sky outside his window growing rosy with the promise of the day. He washed quickly in the cold water and dressed.

"Casey, it's time to wake."

A groan greeted him and he smiled to himself. His new acquisition was not naturally an early riser. This could prove interesting.

He crossed to Casey's pallet, leaned over and stripped the blanket off his sleeping form. Casey was on his stomach and he shivered and mumbled a soft protest, his ass moving enticingly.

Daniel knelt and dropped a kiss on one ass cheek, then smacked it gently. With a yelp, Casey twisted around onto his back, his hands behind him, covering his ass. His cock stirred as Daniel eyed him hungrily, and, with a shy smile, he slowly spread his legs and raised his knees.

"Good morning," Daniel said, his mouth surprisingly dry. He picked up the jar of salve from beside the bed. Casey's eyes closed and he hitched his legs higher, his cock filling rapidly, and Daniel suddenly found it very hard to breathe.

"Not today," he said roughly, and Casey blinked up at him, bewildered. Daniel applied the salve quickly, and when he stood and wiped his hand, Casey sat up and gestured to his hard cock.

"No?" He looked disappointed and hurt.

"Later," said Daniel. "After we arrive home. After the binding."

Casey nodded and scrambled to pull on the robe, then, after a questioning glance at Daniel, washed his face and hands. He pulled off the bandages on his wrists, ankles and neck, and Daniel checked his wounds. They were healing nicely, and after applying more salve, Daniel decided to forego bandages and allow them the benefit of the air. He packed the salve and more bandages in his bag, however, for Casey would need them both tonight.

They breakfasted lightly, and Roya provided them with a bag of food for their journey. Sharif had the horses saddled and tethered. When Casey mounted Salimeh, he looked at Daniel warily and raised his hands.

"Bindings?" he asked softly.

Daniel shook his head. "Not until we are home."

Casey ventured a nod and looked relieved.

They started down the dusty path back to the road. Daniel looked back to check on the tether and caught a glimpse of a dark face in one of the windows of the inn. Daniel briefly wondered at el-Yafe's interest in them, and then dismissed the matter from his mind. He had to keep an eye open for soldiers and guards, for he was traveling with an unmarked slave who was not bound, and he also wished to continue Casey's language lessons. If he was going to be any use to Daniel at all, Casey had to have a basic mastery of the language.

He began the lessons almost immediately, and was pleased and astonished at how rapidly Casey learned. They practiced vocabulary and basic grammar, Casey absorbing it all, sponge-like, his confidence growing as the day passed.

During their brief breaks Casey would stretch, muscles popping, and surreptitiously rub his ass. After they had relieved themselves during a break in the early afternoon, Casey looked at Daniel. "Home... is who?" he asked, speaking slowly, carefully wrapping his tongue around the unfamiliar sounds.

"My father, Yakob, is the head of the family. I am his eldest son." Daniel held up his hand, ticking off names on his fingers. "My father has three brothers - Benyamin, Shaul, and Hezekih - and thirteen cousins - Reuben, Jonan, Paul, Malik, Jorje, Patr, Guill, Kris, Dauid, Zakarih, Maimon, Abram, and Hektor. They all have wives and children and slaves."

"You has... have a wife?"

Daniel nodded. "Yes. One. Aloise. She is very young - nine years old."

Casey's jaw dropped and he looked horrified. "Nine?" He held up nine fingers, as if checking that he understood. When Daniel nodded his confirmation, he scowled and muttered something that Daniel did not understand.

"I don't bed her, yet," Daniel said stiffly, guessing at the cause of Casey's reaction. Casey cocked his head, looking confused, and Daniel explained. "I don't..." He gestured toward his groin and shook his head. Casey's face cleared.

"No babies?"

"No. Only after she is old enough to bleed for one year."

"Good." Casey's voice was quiet, but very firm.

They made good time, but the sun was setting as they rode around a large stone outcropping and Daniel halted the horses. "We are at the border of my father's lands," he said, digging in a bag and pulling out the collar and chain. "You must be bound now."

Casey's face paled, but he nodded and lifted his chin. Daniel's fingers shook as he fastened it around Casey's neck. Before binding his wrists and ankles, Daniel wrapped them with bandages to pad them and prevent the leather from chafing.

When he finished fastening the bindings, Daniel set his jaw and chained Casey's feet, hands, and collar to the saddle, then mounted Zeina. He could not bring himself to look at Casey. Resolutely facing forward, he urged the horses down the path toward the settlement. Along the route, guards stopped them twice. Each one issued a challenge, then sheathed his sword and bowed when Daniel spoke, commending them on their diligence. The bound and chained slave only warranted a glance, simply a new possession of their master's eldest son.

Daniel's heart sped up as they approached the sprawling group of buildings that made up his father's compound. He would have to go see his father as soon as possible and arrange for the permanent binding, but first he wanted to get Casey safely to his rooms.

He directed Zeina around the back of the buildings to the stable, where he quickly unchained Casey and left the horses to the care of the stable boys. Holding the chains and motioning for Casey to move as quietly as possible, Daniel led him to his set of rooms, breathing a sigh of relief when he closed the door behind them.

Casey looked around, eyes wide. "Home?"

"Yes," Daniel nodded, unfastening the bindings and placing them on a chest. "These are my rooms."

"Wife?" Casey asked, fingering the heavy brocade curtains that separated the receiving room from Daniel's bedroom.

"She has her own set of rooms," Daniel replied shortly, pulling off his robe and shirt, and quickly washing his hands and face in a basin. He rummaged through a chest and pulled out a soft, burgundy silk thobe, a long, embroidered robe with wide sleeves. Shucking his boots and trousers, Daniel ducked into the silk and emerged, blinking at a laughing Casey.

"What's so funny?"

"You look..." Casey chuckled again. "You look like a..." He used a word that Daniel did not know. Cupping his hand, palm down, Casey poked a finger out one end and wiggled it.

"Tortoise," said Daniel as he straightened his thobe, smiling at the joke.

"Tortoise," repeated Casey.

Daniel brushed his hair quickly, tying it back with a thong. "I must go see my father," he explained. "I will be back soon."

Casey looked at him apprehensively. "Father... and binding?" He pointed to himself.

Daniel nodded. "First father, then binding." The sight of the tense form across the room tugged at him, and he quickly crossed to where Casey was standing, his hands tightly clasped. "I will make it good for you," he whispered, running a hand lightly down Casey's arm. "I promise."

"Promise?" Casey touched a fingertip to Daniel's lips. With a tiny kiss, Daniel broke away.

"Yes," he said roughly, striding to the door. "Sit, and wait for me. I will be back soon."

Daniel hurried down the path to his father's rooms. It was still early; he would be in his receiving room or study, and Daniel hoped he could see his father alone.

As he turned a corner, he saw El'yt's round figure approaching from the direction of the women's quarters and beckoned to him.

El'yt looked mildly surprised as he bowed. "Master Daniel. I did not know you had returned."

"I arrived a few moments ago," Daniel said, loudly, "and am on my way to pay my respects to my father." He lowered his voice. "There will be a binding tonight, for a male. Please make the preparations and bring everything to my rooms."

"Of course, Master Daniel." El'yt looked pleased. "May I offer my congratulations on the acquisition of the first of your household?"

"Thank you," Daniel said, and took a step away. He turned, his face strangely warm. "Do not prepare him. I will tend to that myself."

El'yt's eyebrows crept up his forehead, but he merely bowed and disappeared in the direction of Daniel's rooms.

Daniel continued down the walkway to the heavy carved doors at the entrance to his father's rooms. He nodded to the guards there and took a deep breath, lifting his chin.

Pushing open the doors, he stepped inside and glanced around the large room. Thick carpets, heavy wall hangings and comfortable low furniture strove to hide the massive walls and fortress-like air of the empty room. It oppressed Daniel as much as it made him feel safe.

"Father?" He crossed to a small doorway, half-hidden by a brocade hanging.

"So, you have returned, have you?"

Daniel stepped inside the small study, its sparseness a contrast to the opulence of the receiving room. A low desk, a scattering of plain pillows, and whitewashed walls gave the room an ascetic appearance. An older man with graying hair sat behind the desk, his deep blue robe so dark it looked almost black. He was talking with a tall, dark-skinned man whose hair cascaded over his shoulders in thick ropes.

His father gestured toward a pillow and Daniel sat, waiting patiently for him to finish.

"See to it," his father finally said and the other man rose, nodding at Daniel.

"Cousin Dauid," Daniel said, shifting on his pillow, willing his heart to slow.

"Welcome back, cousin Daniel," Dauid said, then ducked through the doorway. Daniel turned to his father.

"When did you arrive?" His father picked up a piece of paper and studied it.

"A few moments ago. I merely took enough time to wash and change before I came to see you."

His father nodded, not looking up from the paper. "What's the news?"

Daniel related what he had heard in the town, as well as the news he had learned from el-Yafe. When he finished, his father snorted, eyes still on the paper. "Bourgoulla's an ass, but that should be expected, I suppose. Dar Es Salla should never have been left so lightly defended in the first place. If he had half-an-ounce of imagination, I'd suspect that he arranged the entire attack to give his soldiers something to do..."

He suddenly looked up from the paper, his eyes sharp. "Will there be a binding tonight?" Daniel nodded, his mouth dry. "Male or female?" he continued, his eyes narrowing.

"Male," Daniel said, startled by the roughness in his voice. He cleared his throat.

His father nodded once. "Sensible. Tell me about him."

Sweat trickled down Daniel's ribs, and he lifted his arms away from his body a little. His armpits were steaming, but the rest of his body was chilled. He swallowed.

"He is well-built and healthy, intelligent, and a quick study."

"Age?"

"Young, but not a child or youth."

"Skills?"

Daniel relaxed a little. "He speaks several languages, and reportedly can read and write."

His father's eyebrows lifted, and Daniel's gut clenched. "Reportedly? You did not verify this?"

"No, sir," he said quietly.

"Why not?"

"Because he is learning our language, and I did not have the chance-"

"You mean you bought a slave - the first slave of your new household - who cannot speak our tongue?" His tone was icy.

"Yes, sir." It was barely a whisper.

His father stared at him for a long moment, then put down the paper and sighed. "How much did you pay?"

"Twelve thousand."

"Twelve... You paid twelve thousand for a primary slave who cannot-"

"I have been teaching him, sir," Daniel interrupted recklessly, "and he knows the words for most household items and-"

"Silence!" His father's hand came down hard on the desk. Daniel closed his mouth and willed his shaking body to remain still. With a glare in his direction, his father picked up another piece of paper. "I sent you out to perform a simple task. A task which any idiot could perform. Instead, you return with a foreigner who cannot speak our tongue, who is unfamiliar with our ways, who reportedly can read and write another language, and who cost you twelve thousand." He looked at the paper in his hand. "Go. I will see you at the binding."

"Yes, sir." Daniel rose and bowed, then walked swiftly from his father's rooms. He hoped he could return to his own rooms before he lost the war with his churning stomach.

Bursting through the door, Daniel stopped short at the sight of an adamant Casey sitting on a cushion, arms crossed over his chest, staring down a flushed and angry El'yt.

"What is the trouble?" Daniel barked.

"Master Daniel," El'yt began, "I did as you asked." He pointed to a pile of items collected on a low table. "Everything is ready for the binding. I have been trying to explain to this..." He broke off and glared at Casey again. "He refuses to be bathed, to even stand up!"

Casey returned El'yt's glare. "Master say sit and wait," he said with a nod at Daniel.

Daniel forced himself to breathe deeply before responding, his jangled nerves calming. "El'yt, he is learning our language and our ways, but everything is still strange to him. He was following my orders, but you weren't aware of them. Now, leave us. I will be responsible for preparing him. Go and tell my wife I will breakfast with her tomorrow morning."

El'yt nodded, mollified. "Of course, sir."

Daniel waited until he closed the door behind him before turning to Casey.

His own troubles were instantly forgotten as he looked at Casey's slumped shoulders and miserable face.

"Master?" Casey whispered, shrinking back.

"I'm not angry," Daniel replied, shaking his head. He stretched out both of his hands to Casey. "Come here."

Casey held up his hands and Daniel pulled him to his feet, then slowly wrapped his arms around the shaking body. With a gasp, Casey hugged him tightly, burying his face in Daniel's neck. They stood, silently holding each other, for a long time. Finally, Daniel raised his head and looked at Casey's pale, tense face. He tried a little smile, but Casey merely blinked and bit his lip.

With a sigh, Daniel slowly unwrapped his arms and stepped back. "It's time to prepare you," he said, then crossed his arms over his chest, wishing Casey was back in his embrace.

Casey stared at the floor and nodded, drawing a shaky breath.

"Take off-" Daniel began, stopping abruptly. He drew his fingers down Casey's cheek, then tugged Casey's robe up over his head. Casey raised his arms, allowing Daniel to pull the robe off and toss it onto the floor. He stood in the middle of the room, naked, his hands moving nervously over his chest and flanks.

Gathering up the things El'yt had left, Daniel jerked his head toward his bedroom. "Come." Casey followed him silently, standing motionless in the doorway as Daniel deposited everything beside the bed. He sat on the soft mattress, patting the blanket beside him and motioning for Casey to join him.

Casey sat gingerly on the fine wool, his hands caressing it absently. Daniel spread a thick towel on the bed, then picked up the cleansing bag and fitted the nozzle on the end. He glanced up - Casey was staring at the bag and nozzle, eyes wide, his breaths deep and unsteady. His cock was twitching against his thighs, and when his eyes met Daniel's, he turned scarlet.

"Medicine?" he croaked, pointing to the bag.

"No, just water," Daniel said. He motioned for Casey to move to the towel, and closed his eyes, praying for control, as Casey obediently positioned himself on elbows and knees, ass high and facing Daniel.

Blowing out a stream of stale air, Daniel oiled the nozzle and placed it at Casey's hole. Casey grunted and relaxed his sphincter, and the nozzle slid in easily. Releasing the warm water, Daniel watched, fascinated, as Casey groaned and spread his legs wider, his cock and balls hanging heavily between his thighs. He reached around several times to feel Casey's belly, growing tight from the pressure of the water inside, and brushed against Casey's leaking cock. By the time all the water had drained from the bag, Casey was squirming and panting, his ass covered with a fine sheen of sweat. Daniel pulled out the nozzle and pressed his fingers against Casey's tight hole.

"Number?" Casey said, the strain evident in his voice.

"Two hundred," Daniel replied, and softly began to count. Casey joined him, and Daniel was surprised that he rarely missed a number.

"One hundred ninety eight. One hundred ninety nine. Two hundred."

Keeping his fingers pressed tightly to Casey's ass, Daniel guided him to sit back on his knees, and gently palpated his belly. Casey grunted and the tight muscles around his hole quivered. Daniel got him to his feet, bent over and clutching his belly, and led him to the small privy beside his rooms.

Casey shook as he released the water, and his cock jutted from his body, red and bobbing. It took all of Daniel's self-discipline not to fall to his knees and suck it into his mouth. Instead, he surreptitiously gave his own hard cock a rub, and then motioned Casey to stand when he was finished.

They returned to the bedroom, and Daniel had Casey stand on a towel in the middle of the room as he washed the dust and sweat from his body. Casey protested, embarrassed, but Daniel insisted, enjoying the sight of fair, soft skin that the water revealed. He handed Casey a clean towel and then stripped off his thobe, quickly scrubbing at the grime on his own skin.

"Me," Casey said, eyeing Daniel's body and reaching for the washcloth, but Daniel shook his head.

"Tomorrow," he said. "Not tonight."

A flicker of fear crossed Casey's face, but he dropped his hand and stood, chewing his lip, as Daniel finished washing.

"You can help me dress," Daniel said when he was dry. He pointed to various articles of clothing, naming them. Casey would repeat the name and hand it to him. Daniel decided to dress himself after Casey ran his fingers up the inside of Daniel's thigh while he was helping him pull on his trousers. It would not do to appear at the binding with his trousers already damp from an orgasm.

Finally dressed, Daniel turned to Casey and lifted a heavy chain.

"Come here."

Daniel stepped back and surveyed Casey, standing in the middle of his room. His wrists were bound behind his back and he wore the ankle cuffs, but he was not hobbled. There was no need - Daniel held the thick chain connected to his collar.

Casey's face was flushed and his cock was still hard, swaying heavily as he breathed.

Daniel pocketed the jar of salve, then tugged on the chain until Casey stepped close to him.

He dropped a quick kiss on Casey's cheek, then started out the door, Casey reluctantly following him into the night.

Daniel turned to the left and took a path past a series of buildings that housed guards and slaves. As they passed, the off-duty guards and slaves bowed to Daniel, and nudged and whispered as Casey stumbled behind him. Daniel did not look back; he simply tugged on the chain when Casey lagged.

He could see the flames from the council circle ahead and picked up the pace. When they arrived, most of the circle was complete, the central fire and flickering torches throwing strange shadows over the familiar faces and forms. Daniel walked over to his usual place to the right of his father, Casey trailing. He turned and hissed, "kneel," then sat on the low stool, still holding the chain.

Casey settled behind him, shifting until he found a comfortable position. Daniel ignored him, concentrating on the discussion about this year's circuit to visit all the outlying settlements in their lands. It was an important topic and continued for quite some time, everyone having to give his considered opinion. Finally, his father slowly looked at every man in the circle and nodded.

"It will be as Benyamin and Daniel suggest." Yakob turned to Daniel and regarded him steadily for a moment. "As all of you know, my eldest son is prepared to take the first step in starting his household. He has purchased his primary slave, and is ready for the binding."

Daniel stood and tugged on the chain. He heard Casey grunt as he rose; he had been kneeling a long time, and was undoubtedly stiff. When he was sure that Casey was standing, he walked toward the fire at the center of the circle, pulling Casey after him.

"I, Daniel el-Rydal, son of Yakob and Miriam, nephew of Benyamin, Shaul, and Hezekih, husband of Aloise, declare my intention to begin my own household. I have purchased this slave as my primary," he held up the chain and gestured toward Casey, "and will now bind him to me and mine. Look, that you will know him as my slave."

Slowly walking around the inside of the circle, he led Casey past the men. They considered him carefully, each man memorizing his features, so that they would know to whom he belonged. Casey's face was expressionless, but the firelight picked out the blush that stained his neck, cheeks and ears. Daniel saw that his erection had faded.

When the circuit was completed, Daniel stopped in front of his father. He glanced at Casey, pointed to the small rug on the ground and said "kneel." Casey bowed his head and knelt, his hands twisting in their bonds.

Daniel waited as Yakob looked over his slave, his frown growing deeper. Finally, his father nodded. "Proceed."

Daniel pushed Casey's shoulders forward and down, until his face and shoulders were pressed to the rug. He nudged Casey's legs apart with his foot, trying to remain calm, trying to be nonchalant, when all he wanted to do was rip open his trousers and plunge his aching cock into Casey's tight ass.

Instead, he knelt behind Casey, opened the jar of salve and carefully applied it to Casey's hole. He knew some families forbade the use of oil or salve when binding their slaves, but Yakob considered that foolishness, causing more harm than good, and Daniel was grateful that he was permitted to prepare Casey in this way. He fought back a smile when he heard Casey's soft moan as his finger spread the salve inside.

He would make it as good as possible for Casey, even here, in front of the council. Casey shuddered as Daniel twisted his finger hard and slid it out. Daniel didn't even need to look to know that Casey's cock was hardening. He ran his hand slowly over Casey's quivering ass, murmuring softly, and trailed his fingers between his thighs, gently caressing his balls. When he heard Casey whimper, Daniel leaned forward and caressed his cock, feeling it fill under his fingers.

Taking a shaky breath, Daniel unfastened his trousers, pulled out his stiff cock and placed it against Casey's hole. He pressed forward firmly, breaching the tight muscles and sliding in smoothly. The heat and pressure made him dizzy, and he closed his eyes for a moment, relishing the feel of Casey's hot muscles surrounding him. When Casey squeezed his ass, Daniel pulled out slowly, then thrust in sharply. Casey gasped, and Daniel repeated the movement.

He kept his eyes on Casey's long back stretched out before him, on Casey's ass under his fingers, on Casey's bound, tightly clenched hands resting on the small of his back. Gripping Casey's hips, Daniel continued his slow withdrawal and abrupt return, grinding his pelvis against Casey's ass when he was fully sheathed. Casey groaned softly and tried to push back against him, but his awkward position prevented him from moving much.

Daniel could feel his climax building deep in his gut, warm darkness gathering, churning. He was suddenly covered with a sheen of sweat and he impatiently wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Leaning forward, he stroked down Casey's back and up his chest, wrapping his hand around Casey's cock and pumping it quickly. He would not climax alone...

Casey bit back a cry, his cock jerking in Daniel's hand. With a grunt of pure pleasure, Daniel buried himself as deep as he could and orgasmed.

The fire dimmed as he panted and rested for a moment, still firmly inside Casey's ass. He waited a few minutes, his cock softening slightly, then carefully pulled out. After tucking his damp cock into his trousers, he slid his finger into Casey's ass and pulled it out, holding it up for all to see.

"My slave has received my mark of possession," he said, then wiped his finger on Casey's ass. He rested his hand on one cheek, the fingers gently stroking Casey's flushed skin.

Daniel glanced at Yakob, quickly lowering his eyes at the frown still on his father's face. He waited for the announcement, trying not to show his nervousness.

"Shaul shall be my proxy," Yakob said after a long pause. Daniel took a deep breath and relaxed a fraction. His father would accept Casey as his slave. Giving Casey's ass a comforting pat, he stood.

Shaul rose and stood beside Daniel. Shaul stared at Casey's open, glistening ass, his hands busy beneath his robe. After a few minutes, he pulled out his cock and pumped it quickly. With a grunt, he splattered his seed over Casey's ass and hole, then tucked his cock away and returned to his seat.

Daniel helped Casey to his feet. He was shaky and stiff, and the rug bore evidence of his own orgasm. Daniel held his arm for a moment, then led him to Yakob.

Gesturing for Casey to turn around and spread his legs, Yakob glanced at the come dripping down his ass and out of his hole. He rubbed it over one cheek and fingered Casey's hole for a minute, pushing some of Shaul's come inside him.

"What will you name him?" he asked.

"Casey."

Yakob shot Daniel an unreadable look. Then he smacked Casey's ass and nodded. "Daniel el-Rydal has marked Casey as his slave," he said.

"Come," Daniel said, moving Casey over in front of Shaul. Shaul first inspected his own handiwork before plunging his large finger up Casey's ass. Casey grunted as Shaul pushed deep, then jerked out and smacked his ass twice. "Daniel el-Rydal has marked Casey as his slave."

They slowly moved from man to man in the circle. Each one fingered his hole, then smacked Casey's ass, repeating the formula. Casey endured it silently, his head bent, his cock limp.

By the time they returned to Yakob's seat, Casey's breath was coming a little hitching sobs. Daniel anxiously tucked a finger beneath his chin and raised his face. Brown eyes blinked at him, then squeezed shut. Thankfully, they were dry. Daniel removed his finger and let Casey's head fall forward.

Motioning to two large slaves who were stationed behind Yakob, Daniel stepped away as they came up to Casey on either side and clasped his upper arms.

Casey's head jerked up and he stared wildly at Daniel. His throat moved convulsively as he swallowed, but he did not struggle.

Turning abruptly, Daniel walked to the fire. He picked up a thick wad of cloth and wrapped it around a metal rod, one end of which rested in the fire. Pulling it out, Daniel raised the glowing end of the brand above his head.

"I, Daniel el-Rydal, son of Yakob, make Casey my slave for all time. This mark shall prove it."

He approached Casey, who was staring at the rod, eyes wide. He looked beseechingly at Daniel and shook his head once. "No..." His lips moved, but there was no sound.

Daniel nodded to the slave holding Casey's left arm. Changing his grip, the slave held Casey's shoulder and upper arm tightly. Daniel glanced at Casey's terrified face and almost dropped the brand. He bit his lip and focused on the top of Casey's arm, where the brand would go. The skin was creamy and pale, unblemished. Swallowing hard at the bile that suddenly rose, bitter and harsh, in his throat, Daniel held the brand a few inches from Casey's flesh, positioning it correctly. That pale skin grew ruddy, reflecting the glow of the hot metal.

"No, please, Master..."

The words were whispered, but they slammed into him like a blow. He set his jaw, willed his shaking hands to be steady, and pushed the brand against Casey's arm.

He expected the scream, expected the hiss of the hot metal meeting skin, but he did not expect the overpowering stench of burning flesh. Daniel's stomach rebelled. Dropping the brand, he stumbled between the council members and heaved painfully into the low shrubs surrounding the area.

A hand dropped onto his back and rubbed gently. When he groaned and straightened, a cup of water was pushed into his hands and he rinsed his mouth.

"Thank you," he said, looking ruefully at his cousin Guill standing beside him.

"It was your first," Guill said with a shrug. "It usually happens."

"Cas-" He broke off. "My slave... How is he doing?"

Guill cocked his head to one side, looking at Daniel thoughtfully. "Fine, I think. Will you be able to finish?"

Daniel rubbed his face with his hands and took a deep breath. "Yes." He dropped his hands and squared his shoulders. Handing Guill the cup, he returned to the circle.

Casey was kneeling on the rug before Yakob, his head almost down to his knees. His back shook. Daniel turned to his father.

"My apologies, father. I am prepared to finish the binding."

Yakob smiled briefly. "You are forgiven, son. You will find it easier the next time."

Daniel nodded. He knelt beside Casey and leaned forward, his face close to Casey's.

"We are almost finished," he whispered. Placing his hand on Casey's wet cheek, he urged him to sit up. Casey's eyes were shut, and tears and mucous smeared his face. Daniel wiped his cheeks and nose, then spread some salve over the angry burn on Casey's arm. Casey hissed through clenched teeth and more tears leaked out from beneath his lids. When Daniel had completely covered the burn with the salve, he helped Casey to his feet.

"My mark has been placed on this slave. From henceforth, he will be known as Casey, slave of Daniel el-Rydal."

Daniel unfastened Casey's hands, allowing his arms to hang at his sides. He unfastened the ankle and wrist cuffs and dropped them to the ground. When he stood to unfasten the collar, he was startled to find Casey's eyes open. Tears sparkled on his eyelashes. He was staring at Daniel intently, his eyebrows drawn together.

Daniel met his gaze steadily. "You are mine," he murmured as he loosened the collar and dropped it with the cuffs.

"You are to be congratulated, my son."

Daniel quickly turned to his father, bowing his thanks. "Thank you, sir." He hesitated for a moment, then continued. "Sir, may I dine in my rooms tonight? It has been a long, tiring journey..."

"Of course. We will s