Collars 'N' Cuffs

by Wayward Ink

  “Sammy,” he muttered, emotion dripping from the word. “Please….”

  “Please what?”

  What did Flynn say? He was a minion of darkness, someone who corrupted good people, swayed them to his side by promising them the things they really wanted. Matters of the heart, at least in the way they related to Samuel, weren’t his usual forte. He was the big bad, so to speak, and here he was getting all squishy for a man of light. How did he tell Samuel to stay? That he didn’t want him to go?

  Any chance he might have had to find the right words went out the window as Samuel’s stroking did its job. Delectable, toe-curling pleasure shot through him. Flynn went soaring.

  There was a grunt from Samuel as he kept to his earlier statement.

  When Flynn came back down, he discovered Samuel leisurely licking the sweat from his chest. It tickled, of all things. “What are you doing?”

  “You taste good. Like chargrilled meat.”

  Flynn laughed. “Well then, snack away.”

  That devilish grin returned: a glint in those eyes he so adored. “Oh, I will,” Samuel said, his hand traveling south, “once you’re up for the tasting.”

  Samuel’s fingers were already making things stir. “Oh my.”

  Maybe Samuel would stay this time.

  At least for a little while.

  After all, they were about to embark on round two.

  Born just outside the nation’s capital to a military family KASSANDRA LEA has been reading since she could hold a book. Growing up she wanted to be a horse or Batman, but then she discovered writing and realized she could be whatever she wanted if she lived vicariously through her characters. When not writing she can be found hanging out with her dog, driving flashy cars, pursuing her love of horses, and cheering on the Packers. She lives in southern Wisconsin in an old house with her mother, a gang of furry monsters, and a ghost lovingly dubbed Bob.

  KASSANDRA LEA can be found at:

  Email: Lea.Kassie@yahoo.com

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Kassandra-Lea

  Chapter One

  SORL SIGHED AND looked around The Club. Checking the time on his computer, he saw he only had half an Earth hour left until his duty shift as dungeon monitor was over. He popped his back, then froze. No, he couldn’t have heard right. No one spoke that language here. That race didn’t leave their home system. The voice came again and he looked around frantically.

  There! He saw a figure running, bouncing from person to person and yelling for help. People were laughing, thinking it was all part of a game, but Sorl knew that race wouldn’t play those sorts of games; they wouldn’t run unless they were scared. The few that were wondering were looking at the collar around the slim being’s neck. No one touched another person’s property in this club. It was liable to get them a fist to the face if they were lucky, and more pain if they were not.

  Then the being said something that got everyone’s attention.

  “Red. Red. By the Goddess, please, someone help.”

  The Club’s universal translator picked up the word, and Sorl heard the warning broadcast to all staff members. The warning system was top of the line. If a person repeated the word “red” more than once in a row, all staff present were notified.

  Pressing the button on his earpiece, he said, “This is Sorl. I will take this one; I have the sub in sight.”

  Charging through the gawking crowd now converging on the scene, he shouted, “Move aside. Let me through.” Most members moved instantly; he elbowed slower ones into walls or chairs. He didn’t slow for anyone. Reaching out, he grabbed the being as he passed and pulled him to his chest. Leaning down, he yelled over the music, “Hold still, I am trying to help you. I am Kerilian.”

  At the mention of Sorl’s race, the male froze. “Please help me. He is chasing me. I need to hide.”

  Sorl hauled the male to the nearest privacy room. The second door he tried was unlocked, and he pushed him in, slamming the door behind them.

  He turned to confront the male and cursed when he saw him falling. Catching him before he crumpled to the floor, Sorl placed him on the nearby bed. A quick scan with the medi scanner—a must for rooms like this one—and he found the male to be severely malnourished, drugged, and exhausted. He was cuffed and collared, with bruises littering his bare chest, and disappearing below the waistband of his tiny shorts.

  Sorl fisted his hand; then, taking a deep breath, he pressed his earpiece. “I have the sub, but the Dom may still be around. It appears we have a problem. Masters Steve and Gerry, can you come to room three, please? Master H; can you please isolate tonight’s camera footage? And someone tighten security on the doors. Check all IDs.” Hearing acknowledgements, he cut the connection.

  While he waited, Sorl made sure the Yamerilian was comfortable. He removed the cuffs—appalled at how the skin under them was damaged—but was unable to remove the collar, to which there didn’t seem to be any lock or join. He covered him with a warm blanket and then sat in a chair by the bed.

  Sorl looked up as his friends entered the room.

  “What happened?” Gerry asked, as Steve shut the door.

  “I am not sure. All I got out of him was that he was being chased and needed to hide. Then he passed out. The scanner says he is mildly hurt, exhausted, drugged, and underfed. But it could be wrong.”

  “Why? That scanner is the latest technology.” Steve picked the instrument in question up as he spoke.

  “Because when I saw this male he was running and bouncing off any being or object in his way. His race is blind, but they have the ability to sense who and what is around them. I have never seen one bump into anything. I suppose it could be the drugs, but….”

  “What is his race?” Gerry asked, looking over the childlike figure.

  “He is Yamerilian. They are a race that has various mental capabilities. Some can move things, some can see the future to varying degrees, and some can influence others, again to varying degrees. But they are all born blind. Their sight comes to them when they meet their Kerilian mate. When the mates touch skin to skin for the first time, the Yamerilian’s mind reaches out and links with something in their mate to enable the Yamerilian to see. I do not understand it; I just know what happens.”

  “That’s amazing. So if he never meets his mate, he’ll be blind for life?”

  “Yes. But he is of age and should have been taken to the mating station to meet all the potential mates. I do not know how some off-worlder got close enough to an unmated Yamerilian on their own planet to take him from his home and bring him all the way here. It is at least a six-rotation journey—about one and a half months to you two.”

  Steve checked the male with a different scanner he carried. “Well, he seems to be comfortable. Can you tell us more about his race? We’re going to have to report this to station security, but he’ll need to be awake to answer their questions. What’s a mating station? And how do you know so much about it? You’ve never told us about your race, just that you were exiled for something you didn’t do. What about these Kerilians? Is that your race?”

  Sorl sighed, he had intended to tell his friends about his home world eventually, but he didn’t see the point. He could never return home so what was to be gained by raking over old ground?

  “Yes, I am Kerilian. The Yamerilians live on the neighboring planet to my home world. It was discovered long ago that our races fit together and that if the right pair met, the Yamerilian’s sight would come to them. I believe you would call them soul mates. In return, my race gained a loyal mate with the power to calm our volatile nature. My people are easily riled, and when a Kerilian reaches mating age, fights break out over potential mates.

  “As our technology advanced, the mating station was set up and everyone of mating age was sent there to live until they met their match. It was supervised and rules were put in place to stop the fighting. It was then up to mated couples which planet they settled on. This kept the fighting down between my
people, and with the communal meals and other mixing events, it gave everyone a chance to meet everyone else.

  “Yamerilians are extremely shy beings and are willing to try and please everyone. They have a naturally calming nature and, with their varying mental abilities, it increases when they mate. On the mating station, the two races mingle, and when the mates touch for the first time, skin-to-skin, a matching band appears around their upper arm and, as I said before, the Yamerilian gets his or her sight. Also, the Kerilian would gift the Yamerilian with a chain to wear round their neck. It would be adorned with the Kerilian’s family symbol.”

  “That explains why you were so accepting of the collars and such in The Club,” Gerry commented, before waving for him to continue.

  “What I do not understand is why he was banging into things. I have seen unmated Yamerilians walk across a packed room and not knock into any being or object. They have a sense no others I have met possess. I think it may be linked to their mental abilities….”

  “Okay,” Gerry said. “That covers his race and in general about yours, but it doesn’t tell us why you’re here and not on that mating station you mentioned, helping your mate to see.”

  Sorl looked away and found his gaze drawn to the bed. “I have been to the mating station. There was a fight while I was there. I was accused of hurting someone and was exiled. End of story.”

  “No, not end of story,” Steve insisted. “Why didn’t you stay and prove your innocence? I’ve known you two years now. You’ve never backed down when you’re damn well sure you’re right. I’ve never seen you hurt anyone, even when you’re throwing them out and they’re resisting.”

  Sorl faced his friends. They’d taken him in when he had no home, helped him to learn how to function on the mostly human space station, and given him a job. They deserved to have their questions answered.

  “My brother was the one who got into the fight. Since we are twins, security did not know who was to blame. My family knew I was unfoli—or what you would call gay. My brother was not. His mate would be female and therefore able to carry on the family line. It was decided that I would accept the blame and take his punishment. I did not know the details of what I was admitting to. It turned out he had gotten into a fight because he had assaulted a Yamerilian. That is a serious crime, and I was immediately exiled. I can never go back to my home planet, the mating station, or Yameril.”

  Movement on the bed captured the men’s attention. Quiet, pained cries made Sorl move quickly to run a hand over the white hair. He tried again to unclasp the collar but couldn’t. He resumed his caressing when the whimpers started again.

  “Shush, little one. No one here will hurt you now.” Turning to his friends, he said, “I will take him to my place. I know how to care for him and he will be more comfortable with me. I will find out what happened and comm you when I have information.”

  Both humans nodded as Sorl picked up the male, blanket and all, and headed for the door.

  “Let me check outside,” Gerry insisted. Opening the door, he looked both ways. “Okay, the way to the emergency exit is clear. We’ll deal with security; you just keep going and get him to your place.”

  Sorl nodded and moved swiftly to the nearest exit. Pushing the door open caused an alarm to sound, but he ignored it, and the shouts that followed him into the back corridor.

  Chapter Two

  UNJARF WOKE AND tried to shoot upright when he didn’t recognize where he was. There weren’t any of the usual sounds from the off-worlder’s ship. He stopped the attempt when his head throbbed.

  Once he felt able, he sat and slowly stood. Using the furniture and the walls, he made his way to a door and listened outside to see if he could hear anything to give him a clue as to his whereabouts.

  Then he heard it: singing. But not just any singing; the song was in his language. It was an old Yamerilian love song, and it brought back memories of his mother. Burying the sad feelings, he moved toward the sound. Feeling his way, he followed the sound until he met another door.

  Gathering his courage, he knocked softly.

  There was a rush of air as the door opened, and a voice said, “Ah, you are awake.”

  He startled when a hand took his and guided him into a room that reminded him of home. He could swear he smelled Magor meat cooking, as well as Grob fruit juice. And was that Gern eggs sizzling?

  “My name is Sorl and, as I told you last night, I am Kerilian. Seeing as you have slept for over ten turns, I thought you might be hungry. I managed to procure food similar to what you have on Yameril. There is a seat right behind you; you may sit while I finish serving.”

  Unjarf’s head spun from Sorl’s chattering, but he sat as he had been told. What was a Kerilian doing here? Where was here? Why did had he trusted that off-worlder? What was he going to do now?

  “May I ask your name?” Sorl’s voice broke into his spiraling thoughts.

  “Oh, I apologize. My name is Unjarf. I am sorry for not recognizing you, but my senses seem not to be working as they should.”

  “Do you know why? I thought it might be the drugs in your system, but all those should have cleared by now. And how did you get here, anyway? You are a long way from home.”

  Unjarf hung his head. He knew he owed Sorl answers, but he was loath to admit to how the stranger had tricked him into accompanying him off-planet. Oh well, he may as well get it over with.

  “A stranger offered me passage to the mating station in return for me providing service for him on his ship. He informed me he was in need of help moving some heavy items. My mental ability is to move things, so I agreed to the trade.

  “When I arrived at his ship, he welcomed me and insisted I share a meal with him. The next thing I knew, I woke collared and chained to the wall. I tried to sense where I was and what was around me, but I could not, I was mentally blind to everything. I tried to fight, but nothing worked, I could not get free. He told me he was taking me to a place where I would learn how to please other beings, and that he would then sell me to the highest bidder. Apparently I would make a pretty slave.”

  Finishing his tale, he raised a hand to push his hair off his face and realized the cuffs weren’t on his wrists any more. Groping his neck, he found the collar still in place. “Please can you remove the collar? I promise not to give you any trouble.”

  The sound of another chair being moved drew his attention to his left. “I cannot. I tried,” said Sorl. “Considering your experience, I would conclude that the collar somehow stops you accessing your mental abilities. I will ask around on the station. Someone may know how to remove it, or may be able to put us on the right path.

  “Now, you need to eat; the food is cut into small pieces to aid you. You are far too thin. Do you know when you left Yameril?” Sorl put an eating utensil in Unjarf’s hand as he spoke.

  “It was just past the Gritherend Festival.” He heard something being dropped, followed by a muttered curse.

  “That would mean you have been held for over eight rotations.”

  Unjarf jerked at the news. “That long? Where am I? How far from home am I?”

  “You are on Earth Space Station Delta. I do not know the distance, but it would take six rotations at Jytt4 to get back to our system.”

  Unjarf found his appetite dwindling as the news that he was far from home, with no way to get back, and no abilities, sunk in. What was he to do now?

  They ate in silence, and Sorl cleared the plates when they’d finished.

  “We need to speak to station security. My bosses will have reported last night’s incident by now and we need to go and make a statement. Hopefully they will be able to find the being that took you and make sure he does not do it again.”

  Unjarf sighed. He didn’t want to go through the whole story again, but he also knew he couldn’t allow the being who took him to take someone else.

  Chapter Three

  SORL WATCHED UNJARF as they walked. The station must have been very intimidating t
o the small male by his side. He’d lent Unjarf clothing, and he looked like a youngling wearing his parent’s apparel. He held Unjarf’s arm to guide him. Feeling protective of the Yamerilian, Sorl was careful to move slowly and tell Unjarf of any obstacles in their path.

  “How will I speak to security? I do not know any languages but my own and yours.” Unjarf nibbled nervously on his bottom lip, his sharp front teeth cut into the flesh and blood welled to run down his chin.

  Sorl didn’t even think. Pulling out a square of material from his pocket, he wiped Unjarf’s chin, then held the material to the small cut.

  “The station has a built-in translator in major areas—such as security,” Sorl answered, still applying pressure. Unjarf flushed, which looked dark on his pale skin. “There. The bleeding has stopped.” Sorl pressed the material into Unjarf’s hand, in case he needed it again. “Now, be more careful. I do not want security to think I have mistreated you.”

  “I am sorry,” Unjarf said, dropping his head and making Sorl regret his words.

  “No need,” Sorl said, and put Unjarf’s hand back on his arm.

  THE SECURITY OFFICE took up a large area and was busy, with many beings coming and going. Sorl saw a familiar face and pulled Unjarf along with him as he made his way over.

  “Morjen, I have need of your help,” he called out when he was within the Grunerin’s hearing distance.

  His friend turned and smiled. “Sorl. What can I do for you?”

  Sorl pulled Unjarf up beside him. “This male was kidnapped from his home and brought here against his will. The kidnapper brought him to The Club to be trained. I am hoping you will be able to find the being responsible before he leaves the station, if he has not already.”

  Morjen nodded, looking curiously at Unjarf, who tilted his head toward whoever was speaking.