The stranger returned to the couch and draped his lean, muscled arm across the back. His fingertips rested against Leannan's shoulder, causing a feeling in Leaf's belly like he'd swallowed something frozen that could never melt.
"Leaf, come,” Leannan said softly, patting the onyx-encased thigh opposite the stranger. Delighted, Leaf hurried over, sat on the floor, and nestled his head in his Master's lap. Long pale fingers burrowed into Leaf's hair and sharp, clear nails scratched his scalp. Rapt, Leaf's eyes fluttered shut. He hoped Master would soon instruct him to remove the knee-high boots, to draw the bath.
Instead, the stranger spoke. “Oh, how nice. Lovely."
Annoyance overshadowing his training, Leaf lifted his head and said “Master, who is this?” As soon as he'd spoken he knew he'd done wrong and braced himself for his punishment. It came, but mildly, in the form of Leannan's hand withdrawing from Leaf's hair.
"I am Rinko Miyamoto,” the stranger said, standing and bowing, making his blades stick straight out behind him. “Child of Ama-Tsu-Mara, Vanquisher of Eighty-Seven Men, Slayer of Kuro-Ryu, whose blades strike like lightning. I am called also Deceiver. I am a Highwayman."
Leaf gasped. Nothing could be more dangerous than roaming the wastelands outside the walls of the far-flung City-States. Few really knew the threats of the vast, desolate stretches between the tiny, frightened clusters of human civilization, but Leaf had heard tales of demons, sorcerers, mutated monsters, roving gangs of those gone mad with disease, and of those with an unquenchable lust after violence. Supply trains, naturally, employed the most ferocious and well-armed men. Leaf could scarcely imagine the bravery and skill necessary to assail and rob them. He scuttled closer to his Master and squeezed Leannan's delicate kneecap.
"What are you called?” Rinko asked, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning down to be nearer Leaf's face. The Highwayman's poor etiquette astounded the red-headed slave boy. It would have been proper to ask Leannan what, if anything, he called his slave.
Horrified, Leaf looked up at Leannan, hoping for his Master's even voice to guide him.
"You may answer,” Leannan said, and Leaf, his voice trembling, spoke his name.
Next the Highwayman Rinko produced a wooden box, which he sat on the sofa between Leannan and himself. Though he certainly didn't raise his eyes, Leaf could hear the amusement dancing in the outlaw's voice when he said “A gift, Leannan. Nothing special I'm afraid. Rather common, but still, please accept it."
Twisting his torso, Leannan faced the offering, casting Leaf from his lap. As he'd been taught, Leaf sat on his heels, folded his hands above his groin, and looked at the floor. He couldn't resist glancing up, through the curtain of his fiery fringe, as his Master lifted the wooden lid. Nothing so novel had happened since he'd come to live at the school.
Leannan took a bottle from the package and dusted it with his pearly palm. His eyes and mouth opened wide as he held it inches from his pointed nose. His usual aristocratic frigidity melted a bit, and he smiled, shaking his moon-bright head with ecstatic disbelief.
"Rin, how?"
Stealing a look, Leaf saw deep golden liquid inside the bottle, and a paper sticker across its front that read “Jameson's.” The reddening light flickered across the edges of the glass, making it glow as if burning.
"A Manx wizard had it stored up in his coastal fortress,” the radiant criminal replied. “He was plundered by pirates, who brought the treasure across the sea to be sold. A particularly nasty gang looted them and burned their ship. I, in turn, robbed the robbers. Most everything I took I traded or sold. I remembered you were fond of this spirit, though."
Leannan caressed the neck of the bottle as if it were a lover's supple leg or wrist. “It's all in here,” he whispered wistfully. “The tang of the sea, the scent of the thyme and heather, the voices of the pipes and drums, the blood of the warriors and the stories of the poets. I didn't think there was any left in this decimated world. But how is it any good, Rin-chan? It must be five hundred years old."
"A preserving charm,” the other man answered. “Shall we sample it now?"
After placing the bottle reverently by the foot of his favorite sculpture, the swirl-scarred stone, Leannan stood and said “I must meet with a business contact at dark. Please enjoy my hospitality while I am gone. I'm well stocked with food and drink. Bathe or rest, if you'd like. I only must insist that you don't use Leaf. Anything else I own I offer you freely, Rin-chan."
"Thank you for your gracious generosity, Leannan,” Rin said, also standing. Even in his platform boots, the spikes of his hair just reached the lobes of Leannan's ears. “I'm not worthy of your kindness.” The highwayman's tricky way of talking mystified Leaf; he never spoke as he obviously felt. His gift to Leannan had been monumental, yet he called it poor. He called himself undeserving but held his chin at a prideful angle, eyes always sparkling with amusement the way the blackest night glistened with stars.
"I have a better idea,” Rin continued. “Why don't I join you? How long has it been since we've been out together, my old friend?"
"Too long,” Leannan agreed, his thin lips stretching into a smile. “Very well."
Leaf had never seen a person so adept at evoking both emotion and agreement from his Master as the Highwayman Rin. He wondered what had happened to forge the bond between the two men.
"Might we bring your pretty toy?” Rin asked. “I like looking at him."
* * * *
Occasionally Leaf accompanied his Master to the cavernous club called The Bunker. It took its name from its past function as a storage facility for the magical weapons of the past: pointed cylinders that flew hundreds of miles through the air and exploded when they reached their enemies’ territory. Master said these missiles could destroy an entire City-State, but that they'd all been used in the Great War and the knowledge to construct them had been lost. Now The Bunker housed mainly soldiers, as they were the only ones safe to venture out after dark. Also, no one else in could afford to spend money on revelry: booze, whores, and sex slaves.
As the three of them entered the building, which reminded Leaf of a food can cut in half from top to bottom and lying on its side, they passed a few vendors selling their wares. A dark-skinned dwarf with his beard in three braids sold spirits. Leaf could see from the mismatched bottles and jars that held the yellowish stuff that it was home-made, not like the liqueurs Leannan let him sample. Still, soldiers in their sand-colored trousers, red shirts and black coats, lined up to purchase the alcohol. An older man with a bandaged eye displayed daggers on a piece of cloth on the concrete floor. A whore, her head shaved and tattooed, was at work on her knees with her large body-guard standing behind her. A line of military men stretched out behind her. Some held their cocks, others chattel to trade for the prostitute's mouth: loaves of bread, cans of vegetables, soap or coarse-woven socks.
The Bunker also housed a slave market. Pickings looked slim inside the large cage tonight, and the fat, bald man who watched over it looked bored. He licked his chubby thumb each time he turned a page of the old magazine he read. A reeking cigar burned between the fingers of his other hand. As they passed, Leaf looked over. Three men and one woman, all of them much older than the red-head, peered out with eyes deadened by despair. Like ninety-nine percent of humanity, they had beige skin and bark-colored hair and eyes. Master said that in the distant past there'd been more separation between the different races of people, more people with deep, black skin, golden like Rin, and crimson and cream like Leaf. Each slave bore a star-shaped brand on his or her left breast: the mark of the vendor who'd captured or purchased them. As Leaf, Leannan and Rin walked by, a pair of low-ranking infantrymen approached the cage. The fat man, clearly unhappy to be made to leave his seat, unlocked the cage door with a large key. He called to one of the male slaves, who approached with his head hanging. The two soldiers stepped up to inspect his teeth. Then the slave turned and bent at the waist so his potential masters could examine his bottom. They di
d, spreading his cheeks apart and testing his tightness with their thumbs. The other three cowered in the corner of the pen. These slaves were naked; they had no jewels. No one, Leaf realized with a rush of pity, loved them as Leannan loved him.
Leannan's fondness for his slave was plain to see. Before they'd left home, Leaf's Master had chosen his slave's attire scrupulously. He led Leaf through the throng of soldiers by a harness that criss-crossed over Leaf's heart, the green vinyl straps meeting at a gold ring in the center. Another gold ring rested just over Leaf's tailbone, and two more green straps buckled at his hips, with a third between his cheeks. His cock and balls were held with a metal cup, like a codpiece lined with thick silk. The mushroom-shaped plug in his anus shifted tauntingly from side to side as Leaf walked beside his Master. The third green strap held it in, and the entire apparatus was locked securely to protect Leaf's body from the eyes and hands of those he didn't belong to. The delicate golden key hung from a hoop worn in Leannan's left ear.
As they walked, greedy eyes devoured Leaf's body and the gemstones that enhanced its beauty. This reaction pleased Leannan as much as the soldiers’ fear of his Master, the way they hurried out of his path, pleased Leaf.
Rinko, in his armor, stalked silently behind them, his long coat rustling around his ankles, admired by many but approached by none.
They stood against the thick metal wall, waiting. Leannan's hair and eyes had turned snow-cloud silver, an effect enhanced by the blinking blue bulbs hanging from the steel rafters high above them. He looked striking, and Leaf hoped the meeting would go quickly so they could return home. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and wished the thing prodding inside him was something paler, rarer and more alive than a shaft of gold.
"I see the man now,” Leannan said finally. “Will you watch Leaf for me Rin?"
"Hai, of course,” the Highwayman answered, and the green, gold-studded leash changed hands. Leannan left them, the crowd parting to let him pass. Rin said to Leaf “Let's sit down. Come."
They found a vacant table, and Rin perched on the edge of a metal chair so that his swords angled down gracefully beside him. “Sit,” he told Leaf, who obediently dropped to his knees. Leaf's heel pressed the plug deeper into his ass, making his cock dribble within its golden prison. Soldiers mingled around the warehouse, drinking from jars, playing card games, comparing the length and quality of their weaponry. A few had hired prostitutes for the evening, but hardly any of them led slaves. Slaves cost exorbitant fees to purchase, and then had to be fed and kept healthy. For them to be really impressive, symbols of their owner's wealth and status, they had to be polished when brought out. Leaf, sitting at Rinko's feet, made the Highwayman a prince in the eyes of those who noticed them. They waited in silence for Leannan, Rin rubbing circles over Leaf's hairline and neck. In contrast to his intimidating weapons and apparel, Rin's fingers were as gentle as a May afternoon.
"Is the floor chilly, Leaf?” Rinko asked.
"Yes, Master. A bit."
"Sit on my lap."
Leaf didn't know what to do. Would Leannan be angrier at Leaf for disobeying his friend, to whom he'd entrusted his precious Leaf, or for letting some one else fondle his rightful property? Leaf decided to comply with the command, though he silently cursed Rinko for placing him in the predicament at all. He sat sideways across Rinko's thighs, his bare arms around the other man's armored shoulders and his leash hanging between his legs. The only soft flesh he felt was the side of Rin's face when it grazed Leaf's neck. Everything else was covered in sharp, stiff black. Even his hair felt hard when it scraped the underside of Leaf's chin. Leaf hadn't noticed before that Rin's ear had been pierced many times with tiny, metal rings placed so close together that the edge appeared to be plated with a single steel coil. But the Highwayman stroked the line of Leaf's waist, and before long Leaf relaxed, curving his spine into the crook of Rin's arm and leaning against his rigid chest.
An older soldier, decorated with medals that showed he ranked highly in the army that ruled the City-State, approached the table. “Excuse me, sir,” he said to Rin, “I wonder if I might sit down."
"Go ahead, what do I care?” Rin answered.
Undaunted by the Highwayman's discourtesy, the soldier pulled up a chair and said, “I've been watching you."
Rin blew air between his teeth and said, “You're not my type."
A tiny trace of irritation showed on the soldier's tanned, lined face. “It's your boy I'm interested in. I wonder if you'd be willing to sell him."
To Leaf's utter astonishment, Rin said “Go on."
"I have a female I'd be willing to trade."
"I don't think so,” Rin replied.
"Two of them, then,” the older man continued. “Two women for that boy. Sisters. Twenty years old."
"No."
"The sisters, a pound of salt, and four bottles of French wine."
"No."
"You're being unreasonable! It's just one boy slave!"
"I'm attached to this one,” Rin said calmly. Leaf couldn't fathom why in the world Rin didn't just tell the soldier that Leaf wasn't his to sell. If the older man knew Leaf belonged to Leannan, he'd never persist in trying to acquire him. The soldiers feared Leaf's Master with his magic, guile, poisons, and skillful sword.
Taking a deep breath to calm himself, the soldier said “Very well. I'll throw in a good sword and a barrel of fish, if his ass isn't worn out."
"Get out of my sight,” Rin hissed, soft and dangerous. His arm tightened around Leaf's waist, a small fist closing around one of the green straps of Leaf's harness.
Leaping to his feet, the soldier reached inside his black coat and pulled out a metal barrel: a deadly ancient weapon few possessed: a gun. He pointed it at Rin's small, round chin and said “Who do you think you are? I made you a fair offer. Now you'll give me that boy or I'll blow your head off."
Rin jumped up, sending Leaf sprawling on the floor. In one impossibly fast, fluid motion, the Highwayman unsheathed the longer of his two swords, severed the soldier's head, flipped the hilt in his hand, and returned the blade to its case. It happened so fast that Leaf saw only a flash of silver and heard the subtlest whir of metal parting air. The soldier's head hit the floor and bounced once before the blood began to spill from his neck stump. For a few ghastly seconds, the body remained erect. Then it crumpled, crimson fluid flying in spurts from the throat. A red pool quickly framed the dead man. Leaf covered his mouth, gagging. All music and conversation around them ceased as quickly as the soldier's life.
Rin knelt and offered Leaf his hand. Three drops of blood formed a triangle on his right cheek. He helped Leaf up saying “Gomen nasai. I am sorry if I've upset you, Leaf-san.” Then, odder still, he bowed and added “I hope you will forgive me."
Abandoning everything he'd been taught, Leaf threw his arms around Rin and squeezed hard, trembling from head to toe. He pressed his forehead against the Highwayman's warm neck and whimpered. Rin's arms crossed protectively over Leaf's back, drawing him close. The tip of the outlaw's nose brushed the apple of Leaf's pallid cheek. “There now, beautiful,” he cooed, his voice soothing Leaf like one of the sedative potions his Master brewed if nightmares plagued the red-head.
Soldiers whispered to one another, forming a haphazard ring around them. A few gingerly drew their weapons: machetes and daggers mostly, trying to decide whether to retaliate and avenge their comrade. Rin looked each potential attacker in the eye, smirking, daring them to test the lightning speed of his blades. No single man mustered the courage, but groups of five or six crept toward them, hoping to outnumber the supernaturally quick swordsman. Just then Leannan re-joined them, his hair tucked behind his ears and his arms crossed over his chest. His pale hand dropped nonchalantly on the gem-encrusted hilt of his saber. He looked at the body, and then at Rin, who still held the distraught Leaf. His presence further deterred the conflicted military.
Leannan sighed, audibly and dramatically. “I crave my whiskey,” h
e said. “Shall we go home?” He turned on his heels and strode toward The Bunker's exit, followed by Rin, who practically dragged the shaken Leaf. No one stood in their way.
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Chapter Two
"Wash your face, I abhor the sight of blood,” Leannan commanded Rin as soon as they returned to the school building. The Highwayman left the sitting room for the sink in the kitchen while Leaf lit candles and built a fire. His harness had been replaced with a pair of saffron silk shorts.
"My boots,” Leannan said next, sinking into a padded green armchair.
"Thank you, Master.” Leaf crouched down. He felt better now, away from the chaos of the city and safe in his Master's presence, but his hands still shook, and he fumbled with each of the seven buckles on the side of Leannan's left boot. More than anything he wanted his Master to soothe him, to cradled his head and speak softly, telling Leaf not to worry as Rinko had. But this was a ridiculous notion. Leannan didn't do such things. He didn't appear to notice Leaf's distress. But why should he? Leaf existed to serve and entertain his Master, and had no right to desire more. Even so, Rin's soft voice at The Bunker had awakened a long buried memory, a blurred vision of comfort that refused to crystallize in Leaf's mind.
"Leaf,” Leannan said softly and sharply as his fingers squeezed and twisted the tip of Leaf's ear until it burned and throbbed. Looking down, Leaf realized he'd become distracted trying to dredge up the recollection. The shiny black of Leannan's boot hung open like the pod of a pea, exposing the duller fabric that stretched over his willowy calf. Without hesitation Leaf grasped the squared, two-inch heel and pulled. He massaged the arches of his Master's feet and kissed their perfect white tops, hardening inside his shorts. He wanted to thrust his cock between Leannan's soles, let his seed spill over his twig-like ankles and drip from his heels. But, like the hope of consolation, it was a far-fetched fantasy.
Phaze Fantasies, Vol. VI Page 9