Go to Part Three
Sometime later Spock undressed and entered the bathroom. He found Sulu leaning casually against a bulkhead, arms and legs crossed. Spock was struck by the gracefulness of Sulu’s body and studied him appreciatively before commenting, “You are standing.”
The Human’s jaw again tightened, but he kept his eyes locked on Spock’s as he slowly knelt.
“Perhaps I did not make myself clear, slave,” Spock told him as he stepped toward the kneeling figure. “You will not stand unless the task I command requires it.” Staring directly into the Human’s eyes, he slapped the handsome face. Then he turned, ordering, “Attend me.”
Sulu rose and crossed the small room in two steps. Spock shrugged out of his robe, handed it to the Human and stepped into the tub of steaming water. He picked up a red flask off a nearby shelf. “This is soap. You pour a small amount into your hand, work it into a lather, rub it onto the skin.”
Sulu was incredulous. “Your skin?”
“I was not referring to yours, certainly. Although you may use the water when I am done with it.” He held out the flask. “You may proceed.”
“I may...” Sulu took a deep, calming breath. “Yes, master.”
To Spock’s surprise, the young Human’s fingers proved to be both gentle and skillful as they moved over his skin. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the sensual pleasure that started at his shoulders and moved slowly and steadily down his arms, then across his chest. He allowed Sulu’s hands to linger at his stomach and genitals, enjoying the lazy arousal they brought. The hands moved back up to his shoulders, then seemed to glide down his back to his buttocks and thighs, every trace of tension disappearing in their wake. Spock almost sighed with the pleasure, but caught himself in time. He opened his eyes and ordered, “Enough.” Sulu’s hands stopped moving but his fingers curled around Spock’s thighs, almost an embrace.
How was such a thing possible? Surely the Human was not inviting sexual activity! Slaves served at their master’s whim, not due to their own wants or needs. Yet the idea that this slave – this Human – might actually want... It took Spock several seconds to control the desire the thought engendered in him, and when he did, he turned so abruptly that Sulu was thrown to the deck with the movement.
He glared at the Human, who quickly scrambled to his feet, blushing furiously and unable to hide the erection that curved against his belly. From his attitude, it appeared that he expected to be either beaten or laughed at. Spock said, “You are standing.” And watched with satisfaction as the Human flushed a deeper shade of red, dropping to his knees. “You may masturbate if you wish,” he allowed, then ignored Sulu’s presence as he lowered himself into the water and closed his eyes once more. No trace of the amazement that filled him showed on his features. This had never happened to him before. He had done nothing, yet the sight and touch of his body had aroused another – and that after he had allowed that other to be a public spectacle of sexual debauchery. Yet Sulu had found him attractive. That gave him an almost childish pleasure. He longed to do the impossible; to ask the young Human why. He thought himself too thin, too angular, his skin rough, his face hawkish, and the scars – one a thin line down the entire length of his left thigh, another at his left bicep, the third a slash across his chest – hardly added to his already-lacking beauty. Scars were the proof that he was a warrior, and no Vulcan would ever allow the healers to remove such marks. Except for brands, he had never seen a Human scarred. They were a vain race. Sulu’s body was smooth, bronzed perfection. He was, as the healer had said, incomparably beautiful. How could he desire Spock? Or any Vulcan who had not used telepathy to force the emotion on him? Amazing, here was something a slave could do freely. Perhaps he should teach his property some of the discipline of the Surakian way. Spock was half serious, half amused by the thought. As if any Human could adapt to the rigors of –
He was distracted by the sound of a soft moan and turned his head to see Sulu, eyes closed, covered in a faint sheen of sweat, one hand rhythmically milking his penis. Spock stared, fascinated by Sulu’s eroticism. He had climbed out of the tub and moved beside Sulu before he realized what he was doing. He knelt beside the Human, pulling him into a deep kiss. While his tongue hungrily explored the coolness of Sulu’s mouth, his hand pushed the Human’s away from the engorged organ. He felt the rigid flesh throbbing to his touch and began to stroke it. Sulu moaned loudly, his body arching passionately against Spock’s. Sulu’s fingers grasped Spock’s erection. He allowed the touch, reveled in the sensation, even reveled in the heady pleasure when Sulu’s tongue slid into his mouth. It should not have happened, had never happened before, that a Vulcan would attend to the needs of a slave. And after they had brought each other to a quick, powerful orgasm, Spock was determined that it would never happen again.
He slapped Sulu once, very hard, and growled, “Touch me without orders again, Human, and I will castrate you.”
“But – ”
Spock cut off any further words with another blow. He watched with a horror he tried to deny as Sulu’s face hardened, his eyes losing even the expression of pain.
“Yes, master, forgive me.”
Spock could not answer for some seconds, then he only managed to say, “Clean the room before you sleep”
He fled to his own bed. He had to meditate for hours before he found any rest.
Unless invited into their master’s beds, slaves were to sleep on furs on the deck. Thus it was that Spock awoke in the middle of the night, startled to find Sulu sprawled beside him. He reflected that, perhaps, since the Human had slept with him the previous night – albeit curled at his master’s hips, his master’s cock resting in his mouth – he thought it was his proper place. Spock was well aware that the normal temperature of Vulcan was far too warm for the cooler-blooded Humans, and he had made no adjustment to his cabin. The thin sheen of sweat on the Human’s skin was to be expected. But Spock’s intense reaction to the sight was not. His erection rose, powerful and immediate, fierce passion rising with it. He got to his knees, grasping the Human’s hips. He felt the young man awaken as his fingers pried the fleshy, bronze-colored globes of his buttocks apart. He pressed the engorged head of his penis against the orifice and began to push.
“Wait,” Sulu gasped. “Use some lubricant!”
The voice stopped Spock’s actions, though he could not have said why. “Lubricant?” he repeated, almost in a daze.
Sulu’s face turned to him. “Oil, lotion, saliva, something,” he said, his voice wary.
“Why?” Spock asked, aware of the thundering of his heart.
“You gave me a choice the night before last,” was the soft reply. “You’re not cruel.”
“What has cruelty to do with...”
“It won’t hurt if you use some lubrication,” Sulu broke in, then flushed.
A part of Spock’s mind pondered this information, and he found himself saying, “There is anointing oil on the dais next to the shrine of Telan.” He pointed and Sulu’s head swiveled to face front, his body shifting beneath Spock’s hands as he reached beyond the head of the bed for the small bottle.
“You can rub it on your cock,” the Human whispered, “or just pour some into me.”
Spock took the oil, opening the bottle. He was fascinated, watching it trickle along the indentation of Sulu’s backside, pooling at the orifice and the head of his own cock resting there. He pulled back, feeling the slickness surround him. Then Sulu sighed, relaxing, and pushed his hips back. Spock felt the tight ring of muscle open, pressing around his flesh as his organ slowly slid into Sulu’s cool body.
“Ah, yes...” The words were a sibilant murmur from Sulu’s lips, but they sent fire searing into Spock’s body. He again grasped Sulu’s hips, all his ferocity returning. He took the Human with nearly his full strength, both his own passion and Sulu’s cries thundering in his ears as he climaxed. Then he dropped on top of his slave in dreamless exhaustion.
He awoke to feel Sulu moving beneath him. At first, he thought it was in discomfort, that the solid mass of his body was too heavy for the Human to bear. But soon he became aware that the young man’s moans were from desire. His penis had long slipped from the tight confines of Sulu’s anus, but the Human's buttocks were pressing against the organ most interestingly as he writhed. There was a rhythm to Sulu’s movements and Spock realized that the Human was stimulating his own cock, rubbing against the mattress, making use of Spock’s own weight to press it arousingly against that surface. For no reason he could fathom, the knowledge brought forth smug feelings of amused pride.
“Do you hunger, little one?” Spock murmured. Sulu froze. Spock moved from him, grasping him by the waist, turning him onto his back. The Human penis was erect, nearly quivering. He reached out long fingers, stroking it, keeping his pleased chuckle to himself as it jumped at his touch. “How is it, my Human,” Spock continued, “that you cannot control your desires?”
“Sex feels good,” was the inarticulate mumble.
“Even sex you do not want and cannot refuse?” Sulu flushed deep scarlet, and Spock caught the meaning of his thoughts. “But you do want it.” There was wonder at the realization. Then came more truth, more amazement. “You find the strength and size of Vulcan erections too pleasurable to counter even with the bitterness of slavery?”
Sulu’s eyes met his, studying him. Then, to Spock’s surprise, a small smile twitched at the Human’ full lips. “It wouldn’t be logical to deny a truth that can’t be concealed,” he said. “You said you thought I was intelligent,” he continued, “and you were considerate of me last night.” The smile became overt. “Again.”
“Human,” Spock murmured, shaking his head, “You are a puzzle.”
“My name is Sulu,” was the response. It was warm and the dark eyes carried a gleam of hesitant passion that warmed Spock. He decided to put away his curiosity. His own penis was fully erect and he wanted release.
He pushed Sulu’s legs up to his chest, remembering to use the oil. He spent long hours pleasuring himself with his slave’s body, and he was not particularly gentle. And he refused to think about the fact that Sulu climaxed nearly as often as he did.
“How did you know lubrication would insulate you from the pain of penetration?”
Spock had been relaxing in his cabin, taking a well-earned respite from duty. He wanted to give himself the opportunity to thoroughly explore his reactions to his Human, in accord with his decision. He had taken a seat on the lounger that stood between his sleeping area and the rest of his quarters and had watched as Sulu performed the morning tasks of a bed-chamber slave. The Human was graceful and efficient, working with little resentment that Spock could detect. He also seemed to be completely unembarrassed by his nudity. He had brought Spock breakfast, sitting cross-legged beside his master’s chair to eat his own. He changed the bed sheets, returning the furs and other coverings with artful precision. He carefully folded Spock’s heavy evening robes, and was a silent aid when Spock removed his sleeping vest and donned light-weight day robes.
He was at the replicator, complying with Spock’s desire for tea, when the Vulcan spoke. Spock saw the muscles in his back tense.
“Experience,” was the cryptic reply.
“Experience?” Spock repeated as Sulu turned, moving toward him with the cup. “You have been enslaved before?”
“No.”
Spock waited for only a moment before remarking, “You are standing.” The Human’s jaw tightened and he sank to his knees. He mumbled something, and Spock immediately ordered him to repeat it.
“I said, I’m never gonna get the hang of that,” Sulu responded.
Spock tilted his head curiously. “Do you honestly have trouble remembering such an easy command?”
“I honestly have trouble understanding what difference it makes. You hardly need the reminder of your superiority.” The Human eyes gleamed at him. “Or do you?”
Spock bristled. “Take care, Human,” he warned. “Answer my question.”
“What question, master?”
Again, though it was properly respectful, Spock felt challenged. His tone was sharper than he intended. “How you knew the effects of lubrication,” he snapped.
“As I said, master,” Sulu returned. “Experience.”
“You also said you had not before been enslaved. How, then, did you come by such ‘experience’?”
“I’ve had male lovers.”
“Lovers?” Spock made the disdain clear.
Sulu shrugged. “Terran euphemism. I’ve had sex with other males before.”
“Even before my officers?”
Spock watched as the humiliation of that first evening was renewed, and smiled to himself in satisfaction. This Human may win a few battles, he thought, but the war is still inevitably mine.
“Yes, master,” Sulu replied tightly. “Before them.”
“This is common behavior among Humans?”
“Fairly common, yes, master.”
“No wonder you are an inferior race.”
“Why?” The Human’s tone of voice was suddenly fierce. “You Vulcans obviously know how to fuck each other. How does it make us inferior?”
“Except under extraordinary circumstances, we only take those beneath us in rank or status,” Spock explained as though it were a child’s truth.
“And you’ve never been taken, I presume.”
Spock felt his neck and ears flushing, but said nothing. Sulu’s soft voice startled him.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Abruptly Spock locked gazes with the Human, but there was only sad understanding in the almond eyes. Then a wry smile pulled at the red lips, Sulu’s voice turning light. “You’re still superior to me, master.”
This time, though Spock was as aware that the Human had won yet another battle, he found that the knowledge didn’t sting.
The voice of his Sub-Commander greeted him as he stepped onto the officer’s common room. “And where has our esteemed Commander been hiding the past three days?” Sairn was grinning, a glass of strong quenyan ale in his hand. “As if we didn’t know.” He sent a quick mental image of Sulu in the position of submission, and shared the laughter of the other officers.
Spock kept the shields of Surakian disciplines firmly in place. “He is a temporary diversion,” he admitted casually.
“Temporary?” Selos questioned, mock-aghast. “Such a one as that deserves a place in a permanent household.
“He deserves to be taken with true Vulcan passion,” another officer, Sotan, put in. “Such skin, such responsiveness, such beauty...”
“Such a tight channel, such a cool, wet mouth...” Selos added wickedly.
“Indeed, Lord,” Sairn rejoined. “I would be happy to take this ‘temporary diversion’ off your hands once he ceases to amuse you.”
“You’ll have a long wait, Sairn,” Sotan said. “Even one as disciplined as our esteemed Commander must want to feast on him a while.” Sotan glanced at Spock. “Or is that beneath your Surakian code?”
“Perhaps our esteemed Commander fears to give him to true Vulcan passion, hmm?” Selos grinned, turning to Spock. “What say you, Lord? Will you allow him to go stale from Surakian stoicism?”
The officers laughed, and Spock was stung by old taunts and disdain. Such camaraderie was encouraged by the more usual fleet standards, since the rejection of emotional concerns was not something universally admired. It was believed that men who were friends would fight all the more fiercely for each others’ lives and honor. And while he was respected and obeyed without question on duty, Spock knew that, off duty, every one of his officers felt superior to the half-breed Surakian who commanded them. Sulu’s soft comment, you’re still superior to me, master, echoed in his memory, only now it felt sharp and bitter. It welled within him with other, older memories – the taunts and jeers when he was a child, the subtle and not-so-subtle threats that had followed him all his life. The fear that had led him to the Way of Surak, fear that had been dampened by those very disciplines, resurfaced, tempting him to weakness and emotion.
“Come, Lord,” Sairn rejoined, “he is the best of the prizes. Will you not share him again? Of course you are well within your prerogative to keep him for your own... but Surakians disapprove of such obsessions, yes?”
“Surely one of The Discipline would not miss him if he is allowed to serve us again from time to time,” Sotan added.
“It is of no consequence to me,” Spock found himself saying. “I will bring him this evening.”
When Spock entered his cabin after his duty shift, he found Sulu kneeling properly at the foot of the bed. The Human glanced up at him.
“I’m not standing, master,” he said, the black eyes sparkling.
“Do you expect reward for it, Human?” Spock’s voice was harsher than he had intended, and Sulu quickly lowered his gaze.
“No, master. Do you desire a bath before dinner, master?”
“I am dining in the common room,” Spock announced. “You will attend me.” He saw Sulu’s jaw tighten. It made him angry. This Human dared to disdain serving his superior? “You are eager enough in my bed,” he commented coldly.
“That’s private, master,” Sulu murmured.
“So it is the public acknowledgement of your servitude that you find abhorrent?”
“I’ve never been an exhibitionist, no.”
“Do you think I am so ruled by passions, Human?” Spock snarled. “Or do you simply think yourself too alluring to be resisted?”
The look of relief on Sulu’s face startled Spock for a moment. “No, master,” he replied, his voice soft and filled with gratitude. “Of course not, master. I will attend you properly.”
“Come, then.” Spock turned to a drawer set in the bulkhead. He had never used his personal collar on any slave before, though he had been given many fine pieces over the years. He selected one with little adornment, a simple but strong black filigree. Sulu had crossed the room to his side. He reached down, fastening the collar about the Human’s neck. The young face was slightly flushed, and the dark eyes gazed up at him. Surakians disapprove of such obsessions, he told himself, then turned toward the door. “Attend,” he said.
“Ah, beauty returns for our pleasure!” Selos proclaimed as Spock entered the common room.
“And none the worse for our Lord’s use of him,” Sairn added.
Spock felt Sulu stiffening but kept walking to his appointed place along the low tables. He sat among the cushions, and Sulu quickly knelt beside him.
“Well?” Sotan nearly demanded. Spock regarded him with mild disdain.
“I will dine, Sotan,” he said.
“Yes, Lord,” Sotan returned, but it was a snarl. Spock merely held his gaze until the older man grunted and looked away. He heard Sairn’s expected chuckle.
He ate, not tasting his food, trying not to feel the way his officers devoured the sight of his Human. He remembered to offer food to Sulu, who ate delicately, never raising his eyes. Sulu kept his ale glass filled without instruction, moving with grace and dexterity – and never once rising from his knees.
“Quite a transformation from the hellcat we all so enjoyed,” Sairn commented.
“Perhaps Surakian discipline is good for something after all,” Sotan interjected. The officers laughed.
“Not if Surakian discipline has robbed him of his fire,” Selos objected. “Please, Lord, tell us that much at least is not true!”
More laughter. “Perhaps our esteemed Commander tames him by withholding passion,” Sotan suggested.
“Is that so, Lord?” Sairn rejoined. “Do you starve the Human into submission?”
“If so, he must be hungry indeed,” Selos intimated with a leer. “Come, Lord, allow us to fill him.”
“Yes, Lord Spock,” Sotan agreed. “We can feed the little mouth and not impose on your disciplines.”
“I would greatly enjoy tasting him again, my Lord,” Sairn put in.
Spock waved a dismissive hand. “Do as you wish. He is only a slave.” He heard Sulu’s intake of breath, and refused to think of the relief that had filled the young man less than an hour earlier – relief that he had allowed, knowing even then that it was a lie.
It was one of the greatest tests of The Disciplines that could have been devised, and the Masters would never know it. Spock sat at his place, sipping his ale, watching with apparent dispassion as Sulu was brutally taken by each of his officers in turn. Selos again put him through the humiliation of helpless response, and Spock recalled It wouldn’t be logical to deny a truth that can’t be concealed. Sairn pushed into him with sadistic strength and Spock heard It won’t hurt if you use some lubrication. Sotan held tightly to his throat as he forced his organ into Sulu’s mouth, and Spock remembered Sex feels good. He tried his best to convince himself that sex with them was for Sulu as it was with him. Yet not even Surakian discipline could purge the emotion from that lie. He did not dare to look away, but he avoided the Human’s eyes, knowing the betrayal and hatred he would find there.
And why does it matter what a Human slave thinks or feels? a cold voice mocked in his mind. Do the taunts carry some truth? Have you lost your way, does emotion and obsession rule you? Are you a half-breed still, Amanda’s get?
Spock shut out the voice, determined to feel nothing. If the slave was discomforted, it was nothing to him. Was it Spock’s fault if the Human held onto some foolish hope that he would be treated as something other than a slave?
No, master. I will attend you properly.
Inside his hollow shell, he wept with the agony of it.
It was many hours before his officers had had their fill of the young Human. Spock interfered only once, to prevent Sairn from drawing blood. When Selos sighed in exaggerated disappointment at the inevitable inability of Sulu’s body to respond to more stimulation, Spock rose.
“Enough sport for one evening,” he announced. “I am tired and would have my slave attend me.”
“He won’t be much fun, Lord Spock,” Sairn remarked salaciously.
“He need not be conscious for our Lord to take release from his body,” Sotan returned. “I’m told that’s all Surakians need.”
Spock ignored Selos’ laughter and comment of “pity Surakian slaves!” He motioned for Sulu to follow him, not surprised at but making no allowance for his unsteady, exhausted movements. Once in his cabin, he steeled himself. There would be a verbal battle, of that he was certain. Perhaps the Human would even attempt another physical assault, as he did after his first night on the Le-Matya.
Moments of tense silence followed, then the Human’s quiet voice asked, “May I bathe, master?”
Before he could stop himself, Spock repeated, “Bathe?”
“I wouldn’t want to soil your rooms, master,” came the even softer response.
Spock covered his pain with mockery. “And if it pleases me to see you soiled, Human?” he sneered.
“It doesn’t,” Sulu returned, and he looked up, directly into Spock’s eyes. “It would be too great a reminder, and I don’t want it to hurt you.”
Spock prepared to deny the meaning behind the words, the terrible insinuation – true though it was – that he, a Vulcan, was familiar with such shame. Worse, that the Human could see it, would know of it. Before he formed the words, Sulu continued.
“You did what you had to do to retain command. It will happen again, when necessary. I understand, Captain.”
“You understand,” Spock sneered. “How can any Human possibly...”
“I’m a starship officer,” Sulu broke in. “Sometimes ship commanders have to make difficult decisions. Then it’s the duty of his crew to obey.”
“You are an officer no longer!” Spock reminded fiercely.
The Human took a deep, shuddering breath. “Yes, master. May I please be allowed to bathe now, master?”
“No, you may not!” Spock cried, the pain cutting through him. “You will explain to me how one who claims to be a starship officer would so easily adapt to the position of slave, and worse! I made you a plaything for my officers, and you accept without protest?”
“It would hardly be logical to deny what cannot be changed, master,” Sulu replied softly, but Spock was certain he detected a hint of weary amusement.
“It is dangerous to mock me, Human,” he warned.
“I don’t mock you,” Sulu said, shaking his head. “Believe what you will, but Humans are taught to stay alive. We have a saying; where there’s life, there’s hope.”
Spock stared at the Human. The philosophy was alien to everything he knew. For Vulcan, for one of The Disciplines, honor was everything. A Surakian would die before accepting what he had inflicted on Sulu. He saw a grimace cross the young man’s face.
“I’d really like to bathe, master,” Sulu murmured.
Spock nodded numbly. He fought his emotions, removing his clothes and donning his sleeping robe as Sulu cleaned himself of the scent and ejaculate of the other males. He noticed that the Human did not ask to have the collar removed. But neither did he curl up on the floor as would have been proper. Sulu climbed into the bed, under the furs, moving to press his cool amber flesh against the warm jade of Spock’s. He nuzzled his head to Spock’s chest, let out a long, deep sigh, and was soon asleep. Only after he was certain the Human was truly unaware did Spock permit himself to stroke the silky black hair, and to let the hated Human tears come.
“Master... Spock, wake up!”
The voice came from the dream, yet did not. Spock drove himself up from the furs, his body shaking. Shame flooded him and he forced the Discipline of Surak into his mind and heart.
“It’s all right,” the Human voice soothed. “You had a nightmare, but it’s gone. It was only a dream...” So like his mother, when the dream images tormented him after that terrible night...
“I am well aware it was ‘only a dream,’ Human,” he forced himself to say.
There was silence for a moment, then, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not with you, certainly.”
More silence. “Will you be able to get back to sleep?”
“It is only of concern to you if I require your attendance. I do not.”
“It might make you feel better.”
Spock turned to the other figure in his bed, glaring at it through the darkness. “What is it you think might make me ‘feel better,’ slave?”
“My – attendance.” A tentative smile shadowed the Human face. “Proving who’s superior here?”
“I hardly need such proof, Human.”
Sulu shrugged and murmured, “Yes, master,” then lay back down. Spock did not even make the attempt. He rose, moving from the sleeping area to his computer, determined to put all memory of the dream away from him in logic and productive work. The time passed quickly – he was, after all, an adept at the Disciplines – until he became aware that the Human moved restlessly in his sleep. Small moans and short verbalizations burst from the pale red lips. Spock’s telepathy picked up fragments of coherence...
An ornate bedroom, rumpled sheets, sweat-covered Human bodies...
Distorted vision, furious heartbeat yet physical lethargy...
Wild, frenzied arousal, a hunger that was near madness, almost akin to the Vulcan mating drive, then pain and blood and insane laughter, hedonistic groans and growls and a dark, rich voice rasping commands... the feel of hands on naked skin... nails biting into flesh... fear pounding, the terror welling up inside, pressure, weight, grasping, opening...
Spock was across the room in three long strides. He reached for his Human’s shoulders just as Sulu came up off the mattress, the dark eyes opening, the mouth widening in a cut-off shriek of agony and fear. Then vision focusing, and the recognition of Vulcan features and a sharp recoil.
“It is all right,” Spock found himself saying. “It was only a dream.”
Then Sulu exhaled, his entire body convulsing with his shudder.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Spock whispered
Sulu nodded, but leaned against Spock’s chest and said nothing. When at last he began, it was only mumbled confession of having been raped as a young man by a much older, very decadent Human male. Eventually his voice faded as he drifted back into sleep. To his surprise, Spock found it much harder to erase the memory of Sulu’s dream than it had been to banish his own.
The two months that followed were the strangest of Spock’s life. He tried to keep the relationship with Sulu that of master and slave. But Sulu’s intelligence, warmth and independent nature had a way of influencing his behavior no matter how hard he tried to guard against it. He came to regard the Human as an oasis, someone with whom he could be himself. He could express any and all of his moods with no fear or inhibitions. He did not do so emotionally, of course. He would not abandon Surak’s Way. Yet even when he spoke matter-of-factly, he ended up telling this Human more than he had ever confided to another living being, save his Confession. Confession was supposed to be the final purge of emotion, the release of any memory, fear or desire that might cloud the judgment before taking the Surakian vows. It had also been the last time he had spoken his heart. Until Sulu. He told himself that this was proper. Why need one attempt to impress a slave? Or concern oneself with what a slave night think? There was no threat; no slave could reveal anything his master said and be believed if that master denied it. And yet, it eased him that Sulu always seemed to understand, and more than understand. The Human seemed to actually welcome his physical needs. And he endured all that any Human slave was expected to, even to the point of becoming a silent obedient toy who took the brutality of Le-Matya’s officers without protest. Still, the dark almond eyes would follow him at odd times. The young supple body responded to each touch, no matter how harsh. And Spock refused to dwell on it until word came that he must return to Vulcan.