“I’m leaving,” Kam said. His suitcase was packed, standing by the door that led to the front entrance of the Penthouse.

“Leave, then,” Cal snapped. “I have done all I could to dissuade you.”

“I came to say goodbye, Cal,” Kam went on. “I left my parents at the transport station in LA thinking I was going straight up to San Fran.”

“And how is that of concern to me?”

“Don’t you want to wish me luck?”

Cal swiveled from the desk at which he sat. “No, I do not. I wish you swift failure and a proper return.”

Kam bowed his head. “You won’t even give me something to return for,” he murmured, then bent to pick up the suitcase.

“Why are you leaving?” Cal demanded, rising from the chair.

“I have to report in less than…” Kam began.

“Why is Starfleet so important?” Cal interrupted.

Kam sighed. “We’ve been over this a thousand times.” He stared directly into Cal’s eyes. “I won’t let it all go stale.”

“We can insure that without such drastic means, pet. We can agree to keep apart for certain lengths of…”

“When you’re only a moment’s transport away?” Kam broke in. “My resolve isn’t that strong.”

“I would forbid you…” Cal tried again.

Kam smiled seductively. “I can get around that, lover.”

“A piloting position on a trading vessel…”

“You can buy that. Starfleet is the only place you can’t influence.”

“And are you so certain of that, beloved, that you will indenture yourself for four years!” Cal cried.

Again Kam smiled. “If I wasn’t certain before, I am now. Why else would you be so upset?”

Cal stepped forward, taking a hold of Kam’s arms. “Sulu, I cannot bear the thought of being parted from you,” he said fiercely.

Kam let his hands caress the older man’s shoulders. “I can barely stand it myself,” he whispered. “But it’s the only way.” He leaned forward, resting his head on Cal’s chest. “I couldn’t bear it if you got tired of me.”

“How can you think I would, my jewel?” His tone was almost pleading.

“I’ve seen it, Cal,” he returned. “We agreed to try it my way. If it doesn’t work…” He kissed the clothed torso, “…I can always resign.”

“You will prove yourself to me,” came the strained warning.

Kam’s response was sensual promise. “I can’t wait.” He straightened then, and again reached for his bag. “Kiss me goodbye?” he asked plaintively. He feigned surprise as Cal pulled him into a savage embrace, then melted under the fierce press of lips.

“If you do not return to me, I will hunt you to the ends of the galaxy.”

“No need for that,” Kam promised. “Memory will bring me to you.” That, and how well you give me exactly what I want, he chuckled to himself. Where else would I find so willing a target?

Calvario was furious, so angry that he was actually waiting at the door to the building as Kam stepped out of the aircar. Kam paid the fare, then walked up to Cal and past him into the building. He expected the hard grasp of his arm when the door closed, shutting out the outside world.

“You arrived last night,” Cal accused as he pulled Kam into the lift that went directly to the Penthouse. “Where have you been?”

Kam didn’t try to shake off the hold. Instead, he moved close to the older man. “Jer planned a welcome home party,” he murmured. “I couldn’t get out of it. I came as soon as I got your message.”

“I should not have to leave messages for you, as though I were a casual acquaintance.”

“Of course not, Cal,” Kam soothed. “It won’t happen again. I’ll come straight here from the shuttle from now on, I promise.” He kissed Cal’s cheek, lightly pressing against his body. “It was the first leave, and my family missed me.”

“I missed you, pet,” Cal said, his tone clearly conveying which should be more important.

“Forgive me,” Kam whispered, and pressed even closer. “I’m here now. I’m sure you can find a way for me to make it up to you.” The grip on his arm tightened and Kam let an erotic gasp escape him. Cal dark eyes gleamed at him. No commands were necessary. Slowly, Kam slid down to his knees, keeping his gaze locked with Cal’s. His hand found and squeezed the penis that was already coming erect.

“You see,” he murmured, “I was right. How long has it been since just this touch could arouse you? My absence has heightened your pleasure.” He opened his mouth, moving erotic lips over the clothed organ. He felt the shudder race through Cal’s body.

“You are a demon, pet,” Cal rasped.

Kam’s laughter was vain, insolent – and silent.

“Harder, faster, more!”

Kam soared on the agony as Cal thrust into him, in brutal rhythm with the words he hissed in his ear. He had choked the bitch he’d just fucked damn near to death – and the ‘damn near’ was why Cal was telling him ‘more.’ It’s no fun when they pass out, he thought contemptuously. Doesn’t the bastard know that? When they pass out, they stop feeling.

So he’d left her unconscious body, staring down at her, focusing on the marks the rope had left on her throat to hasten his climax. There were welts on her breasts, too, and blood along the places he’d scratched her. The sight of the blood under his nails as his hands masturbated his aching erection was the push he needed. He came explosively, pumping his semen over her face, her closed eyes, her open mouth.

Cal had entered the room, pushing him back over the girl’s prone body, penetrating him with one fierce, almost maniacal thrust. It hurt like hell, and seared mindless ecstasy into him simultaneously. “Choke her, pet,” Cal whispered hoarsely to him. “You must choke her more. Choke her harder. While you are taking her, owning her, fuck her, choke her, harder, faster, more!”

And so the litany went, and the pain and pleasure increased. The girl stirred, coming awake, and Kam’s hands went to her throat. She gasped, her eyes flying open and Kam pressed harder. He was controlled, he wouldn’t let her black out again. But the act made Cal’s erection even harder, and the thrusting hurt more, and pleasure built higher. When he felt the imminent climax, he roared, camouflaging the exhalation from Cal, and gave the final squeeze that would send the girl back to unconsciousness.

Relaxing in a hot bath, he looked up as Cal came into the room.

“She will recover,” Cal said. His voice was tinged with bitter disappointment.

Kam let his head drop. “I tried,” he whispered. His voice was laden with sorrow and shame. Cal knelt beside the sunken tub, running his hand through the Fleet-shortened hair.

“Next time, pet,” he murmured.

Kam looked up into his eyes. “I wanted to please you, to make our reunion special.”

“There will be other opportunities,” Cal soothed, then he smiled. “Perhaps, with your new-found discipline and endurance, sooner than we might anticipate.”

Kam returned the smile. “Perhaps.” He slid deeper into the water. “Join me?” he asked.

“I have much to attend to, beloved. When you are finished, there is dinner for you.”

“You’re so good to me, Cal,” Kam sighed. And so easily played. With just a little self-control, I can keep you on the hook forever. And ‘next time’ will never come.

There was one area – only one – which he couldn’t control. Of course, it made the rest of his actions more believable, and in that, it was a fortuitous thing. But Kam hated it, hated the helplessness, hated the vulnerability nonetheless.

It always began in the same way. Kam suspected the saké was drugged, though he could never detect any foreign taste in the warm rice wine. He’d fall asleep, naturally as far as he could tell, then wake up – here. A small room, lying on a small bed, lit by dozens of candles, the air thick and heavy with the smell of a particular incense. He’d tried identifying the scents, but was never able to remember them clearly enough. His body felt cold, and his muscles wouldn’t respond to his commands. There was a taste of honey and almonds in his mouth, and his lips and tongue burned as though he had eaten something very spicy. Murmuring voices filled the air, chants in a language he didn’t know, in time with muted drumbeats. He would start to feel hot, a fire raging inside him though his skin remained icy. Soon sweat would break out, his heart thundering in his chest. His breathing would quicken, his lungs burning as they inhaled the pungent smoke. Then the heat would fill his body, engorging his penis with painful rapidity. His eyes burned, as if he couldn’t blink or close them. Then Cal appeared, always dressed in white, and lifted him from the bed as though he weighed nothing. To his own commands, his body remained limp as a rag doll, but when Cal spoke, it obeyed without hesitation. He often wondered why Cal didn’t order him to his 'final dark sacrifice' then; for, while in this state, he could do nothing but obey. But then, knowing Cal, that was probably the reason. He wanted his ‘pet’ willing.

Whatever the reason, Cal only ordered him to stand, to walk, to kneel – which he did. Then Cal began an incantation in the same language as the chanters, the tone gradually becoming forceful and demanding. The heat in his body became unbearable and he began to moan. Cal moved behind him, placing hands on his hips, his buttocks. The touch sent terror through him but the fire in him only blazed hotter. More words, louder, almost frenzied, and with it the certainty that he would burst into flames – then Cal was pushing inside him, his erection a shaft of ice into the burning agony and Kam was crying out.

And with the exhalation, his sense of self was pushed into some corner of his being. When next he breathed in, Someone Else was in control of his lungs, his heart, his muscles, his limbs.

He could never remember exactly what happened after that, nor did he know who the Someone Else was or where it came from or went to after the bizarre ritual was completed. He was often bruised and/or streaked with blood, sometimes there were marks on his torso as if from some kind of harness. Always he felt confused and weak and ice cold. And Cal would bathe him, massage oil into his flesh to warm him, and put him to bed with a promise of rich rewards.

Quarter break. This is gonna be tricky. Kam grinned sardonically at the inadvertent pun as he packed his duffel for the month-long leave. He wouldn’t be able to live at the Penthouse, as Cal wanted. His parents understood his wanting to spend much of his leaves with his friends, and staying away from home for a night or two or three was nothing new. He always let them know where he was – even if most of the time what he told them wasn’t exactly true. ‘I’m staying with a friend in Rio.’ I don’t tell you the ‘friend’ is in his sixties and fucking me. But they would expect him home most of the time now. He could get away with weekends – which were already booked at the Hotel. He’d wondered, before starting at the Academy, if any of the Admirals would recognize the whore they regularly paid to fuck. He needn’t have worried. The haircut and the uniform may have been enough to change his identity, but he soon realized they’d never looked at him that closely, as pro or as cadet. He doubted now that even seeing him with short hair would jog any recognition. And he expected to see a number of them. Quarter break gave them time off, too.

He slung his duffel over his shoulder, and headed for the shuttle bay. Commandant O’Connor was there, giving farewell salutes to each cadet. Her aide, a beautiful Vegan lieutenant, handed each cadet his or her official leave ID – a chip attached to the cuff of the uniform that allowed the cadet both to leave the Academy and return on a specified date. Kam carefully did not wink at Lieutenant Simtin, though her cat-like eyes danced at him. His bedding her didn’t get him any kind of special treatment, but it was nice to know that his charm was as potent as ever. He crisply returned the Commandant’s salute, then boarded the shuttle. He had two hours to figure out something to tell his family.

The shuttle was delayed. He barely had time to check in with Cal before he had to report in at the Hotel. Cal could have fixed that, he knew, but he had made it a personal policy never to take advantage of his relationship with Cal when it came to his work. So he threw his duffel on the floor of the penthouse bedroom, gave Cal a ‘love-you-missed-you-see-you-in-the-morning’ kiss that left the old man’s legs weak and high-tailed it to Hotel Grandé.

It was just as well. When he got in, the Chief of Reservations motioned him over to the desk.

“What’s up, Bran?” he asked.

“Change in status, Kam,” the strongly built Haven informed him. “You’re rated for rough trade.”

Kam’s eyebrows rose. “Since when?

Bran smiled, dark eyes teasing. “Since Terran law says it’s okay. You’re eighteen now.”

Kam hesitated. Rough trade wasn’t exactly new to him, but it had all been unofficial, under the table, and relatively mild. Being rated would mean more of it, and little in the way of restrictions beyond what the House itself allowed. “Did Cal sign off on it?”

“Doesn’t have to,” Bran replied. “You’re eighteen.” He smiled again.

Kam nodded, acknowledging the truth of it. He started to turn to head to the dressing rooms and Bran said, “One more thing, Kam.”

Kam turned back. “Yeah?”

“You’re scheduled full-time for the next 30 days. And that he did sign off on.”

“Fuck,” Kam muttered as a frown took over his expression.

Bran showed his teeth. “Quite a lot, I’ll wager.”

“Very funny.”

As Kam headed for the employee locker rooms, he realized what he could tell his parents.

“The whole break, Sulu-chan?”

“I’m sorry, oka-san,” Kam said, his smile softening the bad news. His mother’s face looked sad but resigned. “I know the hours will be rough for a few days, and I know the adjustment back to standard hours when I get back to the Academy will be tough, too. But it’s a wonderful opportunity. I was lucky to be recommended. And having a real job will keep me disciplined. I’ll have Tuesday’s off, so I can visit then.”

“Why can’t you live at home?” his father asked brusquely.

“It’s not practical. I’d be sleeping all day anyway. Ruis is letting me stay at his penthouse.”

“Your sister misses you.” Midori again, her gentle voice countering Jiro’s displeasure. “She’ll be sorry she missed your call.”

Kam grinned. “Tell Hana-ichi I love her and I’ll bring her something from Mardi Gras.”

“Very well, aiji,” Jiro said. “We will expect to hear from you.”

“Hai, oto-san,” Kam returned, and bowed. He reflected that it was more than fortunate for his chosen lifestyle that Japanese culture wasn’t big on asking a lot of questions – especially from a second son. When the comscreen went dark, Cal moved up behind him.

“You did well, my pet,” he murmured. Kam let his head fall back against the taller man’s shoulder.

“So did you. I had been wondering how I was going to arrange to stay with you this whole month.” His voice was sensual, but more importantly, grateful. He could feel Cal’s smug pride grow.

“Even if it means you will have more work from the Hotel?” he asked. Kam carefully kept his opinion on that to himself. He turned to face the older man, still leaning against the strong body.

“You know anything’s worth it to me to be with you,” he replied.

“Anything but giving up on Starfleet.”

So soon? I thought I’d at least get twenty-four hours, Kam thought sardonically. But he kept his eyes intently on Cal’s, allowing his fingers to stroke tantalizingly at the fastening of Cal’s shirt. “Does Starfleet have to exist for the next 30 days?” he whispered. “I missed you.” The dark eyes closed and Kam reached up, kissing the bearded mouth. “And I don’t have to be back at the Hotel until nine tonight…” He gently nipped at Cal’s lower lip. “And I had plenty of sleep on the shuttle yesterday…” His fingers crawled down to Cal’s hips. “And last night was an easy shift…” His lips, too, moved lower, to nuzzle against Cal’s chest. “And I do have to make up for the shuttle being late and having to leave you right away…” He looked up, smiling wickedly. “Don’t I, Cal?”

“A demon,” was all Cal could manage before crushing Kam in a fiercely passionate embrace.

The trick was a double; two body-builder types looking for a smooth-skinned young man to use between them. Besides being large and muscular, they were into bondage. Their preferred apparatus was leather lacing; thin, black, and strong. It tightened the more their victim struggled. So, naturally, Kam struggled a lot. The cord that tied his arms behind his back also went around his neck, pulling his head back. His ankles, knees, and thighs were bound together, his legs bent up to his chest, also fastened to his throat. He was a very neat looking package with all important orifices exposed and available. They slung him around the room like some bizarre beach ball, taking time out to give him furious fuckings, or to thrust their cocks into his mouth with fierce hunger. They used him one at a time while the other watched, and together, each at one end, and for the climax – figuratively and literally – he was placed in a chair, head down, while they stood over him, fucking his upturned ass in tandem. As some kind of final twisted joke, they left him tied when they left.

“Fuck!” Kam swore when the door closed. They’d left him on the chair, and it was a struggle to roll off it onto the floor. The cords were biting into his flesh, and if he moved too suddenly, the choking of the tie around his neck reminded him to go slowly.

Just back up to the comlink, he told himself. You can manage to call the desk before the next trick.

He had to wriggle along, inch by inch, never moving his shoulders too far along the rug-covered floor. His muscles burned, and he realized the skin along his left hip was becoming upbraided from the carpet. He’d just made it to the panel that held the com when he heard the door open again.

“Just how were you planning to stand up, Kam?” Hermes’ cheerful voice asked.

Kam looked up at the grinning blonde. “Fuck you,” he replied with a mock growl. “Get me out of this.” The young man laughed.

“I don’t exactly see how you can fuck anyone in that position, but…” He knelt down, carefully undoing the knots in the cords, first releasing Kam’s legs from his throat. Kam groaned, his muscles protesting as Hermes straightened them. Kam noted without comment that the skin underneath the cords was bruising.

Hermes helped him to sit up, then went to work on his wrists. “Jesus, Kam, these fuckers are tight,” he murmured.

“Don’t I kn – aagghh - !” His voice choked off as Hermes pulled at the wrong cord.

“Sorry,” came the automatic apology. Then, “ Shit. I’m gonna have to call the desk.”

“D’you need to cut the damn things off?” Kam asked.

“I need medical here to staunch the blood that’s gonna gush from your wrist once I pull the cord out of your skin.”

Kam was silent for a moment, then he said, “My hands went numb about 20 minutes ago.”

“Yeah,” was Hermes’ only response. “I’ll let the desk know to charge those motherfuckers.”

He rose, and Kam heard him at the com. Most of him refused to think about the implications and repercussions of his apparent injuries, but one small part was already contemplating how best to use it against his owner.

Kam came into the penthouse by the front door, rather than through the public area that comprised the main part of the lower level. He removed his shoes in the foyer and started through the luxuriously appointed living room. He heard Cal’s voice as he moved past the archway that led to the office.

“You are early, pet?” Cal was seated at the large, ornate mahogany desk that dominated the room. The question conveyed more surprise than annoyance, but the annoyance was there.

Kam lowered his head, murmuring, “I got a wavier for the rest of the night,” and took a step, as though he intended to continue walking. As expected, Cal rose from the desk.

“For what reason?” he asked. Surprise had been replaced with a certain sternness that Kam was more than familiar with. Memory flashed through his thoughts, of the first time the Hotel had sent him home on a wavier:

“I got sick.”

“What kind of ‘sick’?”

“A client wanted me to share brandy with him. When I sucked him, he wanted me to swallow, I did – and I started vomiting.” He’d shrugged. “I’m not used to alcohol. He beat me for it and the desk didn’t want me working with this.” He’d raised his head, revealing the bruised and swollen cheekbone. Cal had stared, a mixture of fury, disgust and disappointment evident in his eyes. All he had said was, “Learn to hold your liquor, pet,” and had turned away.

This time, Kam answered Cal’s question by holding out his wrists, revealing the plastiform bandaging. He lifted his head. The marks of the cording were clearly visible. “And there are internal abrasions that need time to heal,” he finished. “With that, and the damage at my throat, I can’t work.”

Cal paused, obviously struggling, before asking, “And certain clientele would not ignore such things?”

Kam allowed him to see the stricken look before again bending his head. “I didn’t request the wavier, Cal,” he muttered. He turned, stepping back toward the front door.

“And where are you going now?” Cal demanded. Kam mumbled something inaudible and kept moving. He felt Cal’s hand on his upper arm and stopped. “You will answer me,” Cal growled.

“I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment,” he whispered. “I can hustle the street.”

“Kam…”

“I won’t get as much per, but I can work all night and you won’t have to give the Havens their cut.”

“That is not…”

“I’ll learn, I promise. I’ll be able to take more. I’ll work with Seal or whoever the rough trade trainer is at the House, I’ll take extra physical training at the Academy…”

“Why do you say such things…”

“…this will never happen again, I swear it – ” Kam let his voice choke off in a sob. “I swear it…” he repeated. He took another step forward, and Cal grabbed his wrist, as he knew he would. Kam gasped, freezing, feeling the blood well up under the bandage.

Cal looked down, turning his arm gently. “Pet, this is serious,” he murmured. Kam said nothing, making it obvious that he was refusing to give into the pain with another vocal display. “I thought bruising, abrasions… but this…” The older man looked up again, into Kam’s eyes. “Beloved, forgive me. How can you think your earnings would matter to me when you are injured so? Come, let me care for you.”

Kam nodded, eyes filling with tears, and let Cal lead him to the bedroom. This should be good for a steak and lobster dinner, some pampered attention, and some pretty little thing to suck me off, he thought triumphantly. And if I can keep it bleeding, I can milk this for days.

Life at the Academy was hectic. Kam kept his hand in well enough – with hundreds of fellow cadets to choose from, and not a few of the officers, there was no danger of him losing his professional edge. His parents were pleased at the continued 'employment' during quarter breaks: they assumed it meant a greater chance of the coveted assignment to a Fleet ship. Kam was content to let them think so, though he was well aware that, despite any relationships he might form, Starfleet did not grant favors nor special attention to anyone based on anything other than pure merit, no matter who he might be fucking. And, of course, there was the sometimes pesky, sometime fortuitous fact that at the Hotel, he simply wasn’t recognized as a cadet, and at the Academy, he wasn’t recognized as a pro.

He got more and more inventive with the ways he re-earned Cal’s favor, just as he had promised. He got better at enduring the rough trade of the Hotel. He enjoyed the frequent visits of his favorite client, letting the Haven shower him with the warm attention that, unlike Cal’s, never had any strings attached. He raced at the Clave whenever he could, determined to keep his hard-won title of LeRoi, as well as his hard-earned reputation of skilled, sought-after lover. It was still over two years before he had to face the final decision: whether to actually accept a commission in Starfleet, or to return to Cal and be forever his pampered, spoiled pet.

It was a decision he would, at the last, never have to make.

The End