Tag Archive | character: timaios

Beauty-Beast 26: Self

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

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

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

“Answer honestly, Ctirad.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it, kitten?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But would you mind?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Timaios,” he corrected gently.

“Timaios?  Who?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Beauty-Beast 25: Kitten

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

“Ctirad.  Look at me.”

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

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

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

“Ctirad.  Why?” Continue reading

Beauty-Beast 24: Home

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

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

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

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

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

Beauty-Beast 21: Change of Pace

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As if understanding how overwhelmed Ctirad was feeling, Timaios gave him simple, direct orders for breakfast. “Sit here by me on the bed, we’ll eat off the lap tables, and eat as much as you want to eat but no more.” Ctirad, freshly scrubbed but still feeling like his brain was foggy and strange, managed a quiet “yes, sir” and nothing more.

Timaios left him sitting like that on the bed while he dressed and cleaned up for the day. Ctirad had fallen into a pleasant trance of time-to-my-self-in-comfort by the time he felt his master’s hand on his chin.

“You would tell me if something was wrong, correct?”

Not normally. This was not normal. Ctirad reviewed the day and found himself blushing. “Sir, I. That was wonderful. I liked it. I wanted it. I just… you’re so uh. I.” He couldn’t look away but he focused on Timaios’ lips and not his eyes.

“May I guess?”

“You’re in charge, sir. I mean – yes, of course?” What was he supposed to say when Timaios asked him permission?

“The attention is more than you’re used to and you’re overwhelmed. You need some time to re-center yourself?”

“…Oh. Ah.” To the list of new things with this Owner Ctirad added understands me. “Yes, sir.”

“I’ll tell Shel to give you an hour to yourself before the shopping trip. That should be long enough?”

“…Yes. Yes, sir?” An hour. “What should I do, sir?”

Timaios chuckled and tousled Ctirad’s hair. “Stay up here, in my rooms, until Shel comes to get you – this time, after this, you can use the gym when you’re left alone. But you can do whatever you want up here. It’s time to yourself, the idea is to do things for yourself.”

He really was different. Ctirad half-bowed, because he had no idea what to say. “Thank you, sir.” Well, that seemed like a good start. “I mean – I mean it? Thank you very much.”

“You’ve been lovely and patient, Ctirad. You deserve a little peaceful time to relax.”

“Thank you,” he repeated. “I’ll do that.” He knelt and waited for Timaios to leave, because… because he didn’t know anything else to do. He wasn’t scolded or laughed at or told to move, so he supposed it was not the worst idea.

Once he was sure Timaios was gone, Citrad stood and rolled his shoulders and his head. He did jumping jacks, checking to make sure the floor made little-to-no-noise, and push-ups and sit-ups. Then he did it all again, squats and lunges and running in place, until he actually wore himself out.

He showered again and toweled off, put on the one pair of sweat pants he had been given to wear, and paced around Timaios’ rooms, exploring every nook and cranny.

There were a lot of those – nooks, crannies, hidey-holes, everything tucked away in its own concealed place. He found a drawer of sex toys and handled every one of them, making sure he wouldn’t be freaked out when the time came for Timaios to use them on him.

When his hour was up, the knock on the door almost surprised him. Ctirad was in a full split, head down on his knee, trying to gauge exactly how much flexibility he’d lost. “I’m here,” he called.

“I’m Shel.” The man that walked in was an irish-looking man with islands-brown skin. He was taller than Ctirad but not a giant like most people here, and he was dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt and carrying what looked like the same over his arm. “My stuff won’t fit you well, but it’ll fit well enough for you to get into the stores. Ah, I’m supposed to take you shopping, that is. I mean, looking like you do, they’d let you into the stores in your altogether, just to get a chance to look at you, but I’m imagining that’s not what you want.”

Want again. Ctirad considered the question, as much as it wasn’t really a question. “I think,” he said carefully, “It wouldn’t do for Tim Kaprinsky’s new … boyfriend? or whatever to be wandering around town naked. Wrong sort of gossip, right?”

“Mmm, you’re probably right. Besides, at least with you clothed, I won’t be upstaged quite so – shit, I’m sorry.” Shel sat down in front of Ctirad. “You’ve got a really, really good poker face, dude, but you’ve got some tells. I was teasing, I promise. I’m not into guys, that’s not what I do for the boss, and I don’t really mind that you’re prettier than I am. That’s, uh, in your job description. My job description is to look sleek in a suit and buy everything, find everything, clean everything, and making things disappear. Today, my job is to get you clothes.” He handed Ctirad the pile of clothes he’d come in carrying. Ctirad took them, feeling a little numb. “If you don’t mind – and I mean that, if you mind, tell me to butt out – can you tell me where I put my foot in it?”

Ctirad flipped through the pile of clothing and pulled on the shirt, suddenly feeling shy. “I- uh.” He minded. On the other hand, he was trying to be friendly and polite here. No need to start off on a bad foot with the staff. “I’m self-conscious about my appearance,” he managed, sounding as bland and clinical as he could.

“Hunh. Right, I can see that. So, is clothes shopping going to be stressful for you?”

Ctirad peeled off his sweats and pulled on the jeans. They were too long for him, but cut so that looked purposeful. “That’s a face I’m doing for the boss,” he explained, trying to still sound clinical and mostly succeeding. “That’s not about me, it’s about what the boss wants me to look like.”

“Okay.” When Ctirad looked up, Shel was nodding slowly. “So you can do it, as long as we make it a job. Right. That’s going to make casual clothes hard – no, it won’t,” he corrected himself, “we’ll do it the same way. All right, did you eat something?”

“Yes, sir, I mean,” Ctirad coughed. “Yeah. I ate.”

Shel snorted. “I’m a wage sla – I’m an employee, just like you. Well, a little different, I suppose. I volunteered.”

Ctirad’s head snapped up and he stared at Shel wordlessly. Fuck, he knew?

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Beauty-Beast 20: Good Kitten

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything you don’t like, Ctirad.”

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

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

“Just – just helpless, sir.”

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

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

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

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

Hopefully Timaios liked what he’d bought.

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

“…Drop my Mask, sir?” No, please no.

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

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

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

“…Yes, Timaios.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Beauty-Beast 19: Be Yourself

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“Be yourself” was, Ctirad thought, the strangest, most unhelpful suggestion he’d ever gotten from an Owner — not even an order, it was just a broad guideline for behavior that meant, well, absolutely nothing.

He rose and put himself just behind and to the right of Timaios — Tim — running through the things his new Owner had told him. He wanted him to be somewhere between a bodyguard and a boyfriend in public. He wanted him to be used to physical contact. Sometimes, he might ask him to show off that he was more clever than the average idiot.

Okay then. That was enough for a role. He let his hands fall comfortably in front of him and shifted his stance to “Waiting to hit someone”, feet just shoulders’-width apart, weight on the balls of his heels. It felt comfortable and proper and some part of him was still niggling with guilt, but bodyguard, Tim had told him, and he was good at that.

“Mai! Jorge! Good to see you! Come on in, sit down. Ctirad, this is Mai Tansure and Jorge Talbot; Mai works for — runs, really, but don’t tell anyone — Surry Consolidated, and Jorge is a consultant. Mai, Jorge, this is Ctirad. Here, everyone, have a seat,” he gestured again and flopped back down in his chair. “Tristin will bring us some refreshments, but why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

Ctirad considered his options and then leaned against the side of Tim’s chair, easy to touch and still easy to move if he was needed. He let his hand drop in a faux-casual move down inside the chair, where TIm could ignore it or do as he pleased with it.

He watched Tim’s guests take in the scene, the way that he’d been fully and formally introduced to them and they’d only been told his name. Tim wanted them off-balance, then, despite the hearty welcome — or maybe including it.

Mai Tansure was a black-haired, handsome woman who, in the hour when most people were dressed casually, was wearing tailored silk pants and a coordinating shell with a necklace that was the jewelry equivalent of an over-the-couch painting: it said nothing and did nothing except coordinate with the outfit. She’d slid her shoes off and, seemingly prepared, was wearing matching silk slippers.

Either she really liked lilac or she kept a pair of house shoes to go with every outfit. Ctirad wasn’t going to put money on which yet.

Jorge Talbot was a tall, tall man, a head and a half taller than Ms. Tansure, with curly brown hair cut very short and three thin scars running down the left side of his face that contrasted his otherwise well-manicured appearance. He’d unbuttoned the top two buttons of his bespoke dress shirt and his tie — silk, a red that clashed with Ms. Tansure’s outfit — hung loose and sloppy.

It was Jorge who seemed to actually see Ctirad, looking him up and down and nodded as if he knew what he was looking at. “Pleased to meet you, Ctirad. Sir. There’s something hinky going on with Hester Electronics and the Ermentraut account, and we’re not sure exactly what it is, but it bears looking into.”

Ctirad leaned forward suddenly. He knew those names!

“Ctirad?” Tim looked down at him. “Something?”

“I heard those names, last week…” He trailed off. It was important information, but-

“Ctirad used to work for Ermenrich Hester,” Tim explained easily. “So you heard him talking about the Ermentraut account?”

“About Dr. and Mr. Ermentraut and… some reason they weren’t going to turn him down.” It had involved some fae magic. Ctirad was pretty sure that part was off limits. “He seemed pretty sure of himself. It was part of his – ah. The plan he wanted to discuss with you.”

“Interesting. So he’s trying for a grand plan, is he? What’s your estimation that he’ll succeed?”

Ctirad hesitated. “I think it depends on you, sir-” He wasn’t supposed to say sir. He plowed on anyway. “-and on exactly how oblivious Dr. and Mr. Ermentraut are, and how the head of Hester – because it’s not actually run by Mr. Hester – handles the whole thing. There’s a lot of moving parts, but if everyone involved is a reasonable person, I don’t think Ermenrich can succeed. He’s just not as clever as he thinks he is.”

He felt strangely disloyal. He also felt like he wanted praise for managing that many words, and, at the same time, felt ridiculous for wanting the praise.

Tim squeezed his shoulder. Ctirad fought down another wave of pleasure-chagrin-warmth and watched the guests instead.

“Not as clever as he thinks he is?” Ms. Tansure tasted the words thoughtfully. “You think he’d going to fall on his face?”

“I think that when he tries to plan too far ahead, he ends up making mistakes,” Ctirad countered carefully. “The trick is to find the mistake and, ah, make use of it before he notices that he’s made one – or before someone else can tell him he’s made some sort of error.”

Jorge was giving Ctirad a very interesting look. “You really do know him well, or you believe you do.”

“I worked for him for a very long time.” Ctirad nodded his head in a way that imitated a polite bow while still suggesting he wasn’t budging an inch. He hadn’t had a chance to use that bit of body language in a long time. He found he liked it as much as he remembered.

Liking things again was a nice sensation. He let a small smile touch his lips, the sort that didn’t say much at all, and leaned back against Tim.

Jorge definitely had some military or police background. He noticed things most people wouldn’t. Ms. Tansure, on the other hand, was dismissing Ctirad entirely.

“The thing is, Tim, that we’re worried about what he could do if he got his hands on the Ermentraut properties. They’re worth a lot more than anyone knows – I’m pretty sure the Ermentrauts themselves have no idea what they’re sitting on. And if Ermenrich does know, he’s going to push forward, and he’s going to do it fast. We don’t have time to wait and see if Ermenrich fails on his own.”

That hadn’t been at all what Ctirad was suggesting, but he didn’t bother to pick apart that part. “Dr. Ermentraut is brilliant. She gets underestimated a lot, because she’s short, and female, and attractive.” He let his eyes linger on Ms. Tansure for a moment like she must know exactly what he was talking about. “I think that if she’s sitting on something expensive, she knows what it is. And she may actually be playing Ermenrich .” He chuckled a little, and held Ms. Tansure’s eyes while he did so.

She found herself chuckling right back at him, the way he’d been pretty sure she would. He’d caught her underestimating him and pointed out how foolish it was without ever saying anything of the sort.

Ctirad was a little proud of himself. He hadn’t managed anything like that in a long time – and it had been easy. He leaned harder against Tim’s legs and let himself relax.

“So, as Ctirad has suggested, we should look for the weaknesses in Ermenrich’s plan. That means that we need to consider…” Tim’s hand landed in Ctirad’s hair, and Ctirad stopped trying to pay attention. He had done his job. He kept part of his awareness on the movements of the visitors, ready to attack if they turned out to be a threat, and let the rest of his mind settle into the pleasure of being caressed, of doing something right.

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Beauty-Beast 18: Free Time

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It was telling, humiliating, and sensible. Do you know what you like to do for fun?

He ought to. He ought to know things that were enjoyable. Everyone did, right?

Ctirad swallowed around a keening sound that refused to quiet itself. He wanted to bow until his forehead was on the floor, but he’d been told to lean back, so he stayed leaning back.

“Hey, hey.” Timaios stroked his shoulders gently. “Hey. Ctirad. Come on, kitten, come on.”

Kitten? The nickname drew him out of his panic for a moment. “Kitten?”

“Sounds better than ‘puppy’ and I don’t think you’d like ‘pet’,” Timaios admitted. “So you’re my kitten.”

“Yes… yes sir. I’m your kitten.”

“So, kitten. Do you like team sports?”

“I’m good at soccer, sir. And okay at volleyball.” He could remember that. Playing volleyball on the beach at sunset. With… With… no. No, those memories weren’t allowed.

“But not enjoyable. Hrm… Weapons?”

“I’m proficient at any number of weapons, sir. At least fifty, depending on how you count.”

“But do you enjoy any of them?”

Knives. It was an image, a feeling, rather than a word. Tossing a knife up in the air and catching it. The way it felt when he threw it. The way it felt cutting into skin. “Knives, sir.”

“Good. Very good, kitten, thank you.” Timaios leaned down and kissed the back of Ctiard’s neck.

Ctirad tilted his head forward, baring more neck, finding he wanted more of that contact.

“When Ermenrich left you alone, what did you do?”

Whine.

No.

“When,” Ctirad asked very carefully, “he left me and didn’t cage me or restrain me?”

“Did that happen? That is, were you given time to yourself?”

“Sometimes.” More in the last few months.

“Then yes. What did you do?”

“Sometimes I just walked. Whatever my um. My leash was, the distance I was allowed to go, I walked that. Usually just laps of the house or the office. Sometimes I read, if there was anything around to read. A lot of times I just did push-ups or sit-ups until I couldn’t anymore. I don’t like being idle for too long. I like having something to do.”

The last surprised him, but he found it was true. “I liked reading the best,” he admitted more quietly. “A couple times I managed to jog on the treadmill while reading, and that was very good.”

“Good.” Timaios kissed the top of his head. “Very good, kitten.”

Ctirad moaned very quietly at the praise. “Thank you… um. Thanks, Tim.” He glanced up at Timaios nervously.

“It’s good to have some idea what you like to do when you’ve got idle time. I don’t need you for household chores, but I might need you to be out of the way of the people doing that work. So it’s good to have things you want to do during that time.” He looked down at Ctirad thoughtfully. “Did you like being caged or restrained?”

Ctirad found himself blushing. He looked away, because he could, and struggled with an answer. “I didn’t like it when he left me alone that way.”

“I see.” Timaios’ voice was a soft rumble too close to Ctirad’s ear. “Interesting. Well. I’m going to have to make sure we draw some lines before we get to that point, but I won’t ever leave you caged or restrained alone for more than… half an hour, okay?”

“Even – even when I’m being punished, sir?”

“Things that are done for fun should not be used for punishment,” Timaios replied firmly. “So yes, I won’t do that as a punishment.”

“Sir?” A tall man stuck his head into the living room. He was tall, although maybe not as tall as Timaios, with his curly blue-black hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. “Mr. Talbot and Ms. Tansure are here to see you?”

“Of course they are.” Timaios’ tone was dry. “Send them in, and bring in the Chateau Kamine ‘92, if you would, the Riesling, and have Danny whip up a cheese platter.”

“Of course, sir.” The man bowed deeply and departed.

“Well, I guess we’ll see how you fare with company.” Timaios patted Ctirad’s hair. “Please don’t be too concerned; you can consider this a practice run. That’s Tristin, by the way. My… butler, I suppose.”

“Ah.” The man looked intimidating. He moved in a way that was a lot more common for a hired killer than a butler. “Do you want…” What was he supposed to even ask?

“You can be yourself, but remember to call me Tim. Ah, here they are.” He patted Ctirad’s head and rose to his feet.

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Beauty-Beast 17: Free Will

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry, sir… Tim.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Beauty-Beast 16: Plans

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Timaios was laughing again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmm. Well then. How’s dinner?”

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

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

“Do you…” Damnit.

“No, please, continue.”

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

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

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

No.

“So you don’t mind if I work out?”

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

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Beauty-Beast 15: Let’s Eat

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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