"Alright, that one there. I want him unloaded and put up on the cage block. We've got time to make up...Let's go ladies!"

Rob clapped his hands, turning away from the groans and mumblings behind him. A hand brushed against his shoulder, just a passing as Phoenix moved to climb off the boat.

"Rob, I need to talk to you about that 'one' before he gets unloaded. Tell them to get the others from under first."

He did, quickly excusing himself from the deck and down to the dock where Phoenix was taking a swig from his water bottle. He recapped it, slinging it from the holder on his belt.

"So, what is there to talk about so badly that he can't be unloaded?"

"I thought you might want to hear what went on during the trip here before you push him off onto anyone. Plus there's a little fact that Brad wants him taken straight to the butcher-block, if you know what I mean."

Rob walked over to a crate, sitting down on it before stroking at his goatee.

"What did Brad do?"

"Forced one of the slaves, the 'one', to give him head one night. I warned him before they even got started to watch out because we had no idea where he came from, or anything about him, but Brad wouldn't listen. Needless to say, he won't be having anymore 'intimate' relations with anyone."

"What? You've got to be kidding me..."

"Nope...Clean off...Nothing left. If you don't have someone who can handle him, Brad's going to kill him."

Rob nodded, looking off in the distance for a moment, lost in thought.

"Did you find out what he is?"

"Wolfbainian. Good one too. Can't talk back either. Slavers cut his vocal chords before he was handed over. Evidently he's been in trouble before."

Rob stood, coming closer to Phoenix again.

"I do have someone who might buy. He's been waiting for the shipment to come in for weeks, and he's looking for something...unusual. Have him unloaded and brought up to the Quarter. I want to look him over before they arrive."

**

Chester sorted through his closet at a hurried pace, throwing numerous pieces of clothing across the room and onto the bed and floor. Turning quickly, he began sorting back through the piles, cursing under his breath.

"Where in the hell is that shirt? I'm going to be late for the bidding...Mike?!"

Mike emerged from the bathroom, towel hung loosely around his waist as he entered Chester's room.

"What's all the yelling for?"

"I need to get downtown, and I can't find the one navy shirt that you like so much..."

Mike glanced around the room, gently picking his way to the far side of the bed. Picking up another shirt, he tossed it to Chester.

"Wear that. You going to find one today?"

"He said the ship was supposed to come in this morning, and I thought I'd try."

"Chester...Don't do this just because I want one...It should be something that we both agree on before rushing into anything..."

"Mike, I've been saving for months. It is the only material thing that you have ever asked me for, and I'm going to find the perfect one, even if it takes me a lifetime to do it."

Chester tucked in his shirttails, sitting on the bed to lace up his boots.

"Maybe they'll have the one this time Chaz. Could you imagine us owning one?"

"We agreed though..."

"I know, I know. I could never force myself to do that to another person anyway...even if they are property and are supposed to be treated that way. I'm not that kind of person."

"I know..."

With a small kiss, Chester wandered out of the room, putting on his denim jacket before heading out the door and down to the docks.

**

"Bid if you want them, leave if you've got them!"

The harker was yelling loudly over the din, beating the end of the stage with his cane as the traders wandered among the Quarter. Rob watched closely over his section, managing more of a trading and buying booth than the other bidding and auctioning sections. The boat had been cleared, and so had a great deal of his merchandise. Only one had to be caged, and he hoped to God that someone would at least take a look at him. It wasn't fair that he only had this chance, because if he didn't sell, he would be killed immediately for what he had done.

Phoenix poured some water into a cup, passing it through the bars and into the hands of the slave. His eyes said what his voice couldn't, a silent 'thank you.' As Rob watched, he couldn't imagine what would have been done to make the slave turn so suddenly violent against someone.

Turning back to the crowd, he spotted whom he had been waiting for, blonde spikes bobbing through the crowd.

"Bourden, did the shipment come in?"

"Yes, Mr. Bennington, and I was hoping you'd come back. I saved one especially for you, and I hope you have the same reaction I did."

Rob led Chester to the cage, letting Chester kneel down beside the bars.

"He's not like us, is he...His eyes give it away."

"You are very observant, Mr. Bennington. They call them Wolfbainians, and this one was brought from the Americas."

"Why is he in a cage?"

Chester had reached through the bars, lightly brushing his hand across the slave's stubbled cheek.

"The deckmaster of the ship was seriously wounded by this one, but I can tell you that it was in defense. He's in the cage to make the others more secure. There are a couple of things you need to understand about slaves. There are usually two types, working and pleasure. Pleasure slaves are for just that, pleasuring their masters with sexual acts, what have you. Workers are less in number now days, but they are the ones that do the running work. This one is firstly a worker. That is what got him in trouble on the ship, but I would think that a normal person would have enough sense to gain his trust before ramming his cock down his throat."

Chester looked up suddenly, a bit startled. He calmed as the slave nuzzled the offered hand, closing his eyes as he softly kissed the palm. Chester and Rob both watch him quietly.

"I think he likes you. Do you want him?"

"How much would you ask for him?"

"Chester, I'm going to let you in on something. The deckmaster...he wants this one killed if no one takes him, and frankly, I like this one a lot. I don't want to see him killed because someone couldn't keep himself under control. You can have him for $150 with my best wishes..."

"Are you sure? I mean...that's not very much..."

"Call it a favor. You've helped me out a time or two."

Chester smiled, standing back up as Rob unlocked the cage. The slave got to his feet slowly, taking a few steps to wake up his feet as he moved away from the bars. Stepping to Chester's side, he let Rob put a collar around his neck, unhooking the cuffs from around his ankles.

"Does he have a name?"

"They've been calling him Drake. No one really knows though. Those barders who caught him were beasts. Cut his vocal chords so he couldn't speak. There are options to look at for that though, so no worries there."

"Can he write then?"

"I'm pretty sure. If not, he can learn easily. Take him home and get him some clothes. Looks like he won't be leaving your side for a while."

Chester clipped a leash to the collar, leading him through the streets and back to where he would call home.

**

Mike sat on the floor, busily reading his mail as Chester came in the door. He glanced up from the display for a second, noticing that he wasn't alone. Turning it off, he closed the screen before getting up to look at the new slave.

Chester took a step away, signaling for Drake to stay still as Mike walked around him, stopping again in front of him. Bright gray eyes were looking him over too, both of them looking over each other. Stepping closer, Mike tilted his chin up so he could see the scar running down his neck.

"He's beautiful...Who would do something like this?"

"The slavers cut him so he wouldn't be able to talk. I was going to see if he could write decently, because I know he understands what we say to him..."

"Why don't you just ask him if he can write?"

Chester looked sheepishly as his boots, wanting to kick himself for not thinking of that before. Unclipping the leash, he cleared his throat trying to think of what to say.

"Ummm...If...if we ask you something, can you write your answers? Or if you need something?"

Mike placed a hand on Chester's shoulder, calming him.

"What he's wondering is if we give you some paper, would you be able to write to us?"

The slave nodded, lifting his hands and signing like he was writing something in the air. Mike walked to the table, picking up a pen and a notebook before returning.

"Come sit on the couch, and tell us about yourself. We aren't like usual people...We won't hurt you like those slavers have."

He nodded, walking slowly to the couch, still not sure if what he was doing was correct. As soon as he sat down, he began writing away. Every couple of lines, he would hand the book back to Chester and Mike, letting them read and ask questions before he continued.

'My name is Calone, but the slavers just called me Cal before they had me cut. I couldn't voice my opinion after it was done, so they called me other names to irritate me. If I did anything against them, they would have me killed, and they waved it in front of me like a controlling leash.'

Chester looked at the leash that was still in his hands, throwing it behind him with a sudden flare.

"Don't have a use for that...You know why you were brought here, right?"

'I'm a slave...I do what the master's bid, when they bid it. If I do not, then I am to be punished. This is what the punter's told us before they shipped us out...But I know, I know the rules, what to do. It is not lost on me my new purpose here.'

"I will never force anything other than the usual chores and tasks on you, but I want to know about your training..."

Mike's dark eyes weren't angered to Cal's surprise, just open and wondering.

'I was trained to be a pleasure slave. That's why they cut me was to silence my complaints, my cries when it was forced upon me. It was my punishment, my punishment before I turned violent against them...That man on the ship isn't the first to lose the battle against my teeth...'

"And I would never force that on you...Though I might want it at some point, I will wait until I have your trust and want in the matter. Yes, you are a slave, but we aren't looking for a slab of meat to order around and whip..."

Chester dropped his gaze to his hands, his fingers running against each other like he was trying to block himself from what was going on. Running a quick hand through his hair, he stood and walked out of the room, shutting the bedroom door behind him.

'What's wrong with him?'

"He used to be a slave too, a long time ago. He was badly abused, but a doctor saved him from having to go back. There is a limit to just how far you can control and push a slave, and his owners had passed that line. I don't even really remember how we ended up together, living here like we are."

'So why own a slave now?'

"I thought maybe it would help him to see that not all slaves need to be treated the same. Take a look around, and we'll go shopping for you in a bit, as soon as I talk to him."