Contract

It had been an uncomfortable night for Jeice. Not physically - although he still ached from his master's last 'session', he was warm for once, and the bed was so comfortable beneath him, and the black robe soft against bruised and broken skin, and the silk sheet and light sleeping fur so smooth to the touch... The sheer luxury of it made him uneasy. But that wasn't it. Neither was it the number of beings sharing the vast sleeping platform - there was plenty of room for all, after all, and it was by no means the first time he'd been in such a situation.
      No. It was the way the big Saiyan had lain on his back with Zha'haabron above him, making slow, ardent love to the king. Zha'haabron had arched backwards, gasping, shimmering pearly semen spilling over the warm strong hands that clasped his shaft as Radittsu froze, hips driving upwards in tiny jerks as he also came... Pulling out and lowering the panting king tenderly to the sleeping fur, the Saiyan captain turned to the green skinned R'ren'nkh'ian and pleasured him, too, while the bright-haired Saiyan had fondled both the big male and the gentle zn'hre, strong hands busy with long lush tail and twitching dark green shaft. And then the big one had turned to the tiny R'ren'nkh'ian and made love to him as well, while the smaller Saiyan had slid smoothly into the green one's body and brought him to climax again.
      And then - as the littlest zn'hre had snuggled up to the King's Companion, entering her from behind, cupping her breasts and teasing her nipples with thin strong fingers, and the green-skinned one had slid into the king's arms, fondling and stroking the cool blue skin - the two Saiyan males had turned to each other...
      He'd tried very hard not to watch, he really had. But it was impossible. The extraordinary differences between the way the Saiyans treated the R'ren'nkh'ians, and the way they treated each other, had him staring disbelievingly. That they could be both so gentle and so savage...
      And then he realised that the white-haired female was watching him, an amused smile on her face, and he blushed deeply. Not that anyone could tell.
      "It bothers you?"
      He lowered his eyes and shook his head, flinching as she moved closer and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, nuzzling at his soft hair.
      "Am I hurting you?" Her voice was very soft in his ear. He swallowed anxiously, afraid of what she would do next, more afraid of angering her. She could hardly hear his whispered, "No, Mistress..."
      Mahrayne sighed, very aware of the trembling of the small body in her arms. She wouldn't hurt him for the world: Leteetza hadn't given her many details but she'd understood that the little creature had been beaten - and worse - by his 'master'. She loosened her hold, her arms draped lightly across Jeice's chest - frowning to herself as she felt something... strange against her wrists.
      Curious, her hands slipped gently inside the borrowed robe and stroked across his skin, pausing as her fingers encountered the rough metal laced through his nipples. Completely oblivious to the little being's breathless fear, she carefully explored the intriguing contrast between the hot swollen flesh and the cool hardness piercing it, leisurely, taking her time...
      With a soundless sob Jeice turned to her, shrugging out of the robe and kneeling upright, head bowed, erection twitching.
      "Wh... what is your desire, Mistress?"
      Mahrayne gaped at him, her fascination with his 'adornments' disregarded as she became aware of the miserable apprehension evinced by his body language... A second later Zha'haabron was at their side, frowning slightly.
      "Jeice? Is something wrong?"
      "No... No, my lord."
      The zn'hre glanced at Mahrayne, who shrugged helplessly. And then noticed that the Saiyans were glaring at her, varying degrees of concern and anger on their faces. She swallowed nervously.
      "Your Majesty? What... what have I done wrong?"
      Zha'haabron glanced at Leteetza, who nodded and beckoned to the Hassinan. As she followed Leteetza out onto the balcony, Mahrayne glimpsed Ti'aasaan gently pulling the robe back onto Jeice's slight body and gathering him into a soothing, comforting embrace.

The night was soft, the starlight hazy through high thin cloud cover, but Mahrayne was too concerned to really notice. She bit her lip and laid both hands on the little warrior's shoulders.
      "What've I done?"
      Leteetza sighed.
      "It's not your fault - we should have told you more..." She paused for a moment, frowning, then shrugged, evidently deciding to be blunt. "Jeice belongs to an ambassador who's onworld negotiating shipping routes through one of the systems the Empire controls. His species uses Jeice's kind as sex toys. And they don't care whether they damage their toys or not."
      Mahrayne frowned, not fully understanding this but picking up on what appeared to be the most significant part.
      "He's damaged?"
      "He's been hurt, yes."
      "But... The way he acted..."
      "He's been trained that way... You remember what I told you about the zn'hre?"
      The Hassinan nodded.
      "Well, it's a little like that, as far as I can gather, except that Jeice can't fight back. He's been trained so that he has to do what others tell him to. He has to let them use him, any way they want."
      "Even if he doesn't want it?"
      "Even if he doesn't want it... You were fondling him. He saw it as a sort of... he thought you wanted him to fuck you. And he didn't want to, but he would have done it anyway, because if he doesn't do as he's told he gets punished."
      Mahrayne caught her breath.
      "No! I just wondered what those rings were... Oh, the poor little thing..."
      Leteetza nodded grimly. "He's been badly treated recently. Do you know what rape is?"
      "I've heard the word..."
      Leteetza frowned to herself.
      "Imagine if Zorun... No, imagine if a stranger, a big Saiyan you'd never met, just grabbed you, ripped off your clothes and fucked you, hard, ignoring what you wanted, ignoring how much he was hurting you, came, pulled out and then just dropped you and walked away."
      Mahrayne shivered, her eyes wide, horrified.
      "That's..."
      "That's rape. To have someone simply take you without your permission, invade you, treat you like a thing with no feelings, a no-person, nothing more than a body to fuck... That's what happened to the zn'hre, and that's what been happening to Jeice."
      Mahrayne bit back tears.
      "That's horrible..."
      Leteetza sighed, nodding.
      "And I think it's all Jeice has ever known." She frowned. "Can you take some time out tomorrow to help me find out a bit more about his species - and the Omanir? The Ssii'iin wants to buy him from his master." She smiled fondly. "Zha'haabron can't bear the thought of slavery..."
      Mahrayne nodded.
      "Of course... But I must apologise..." She frowned. "How do I apologise to him?"
      Leteetza shrugged.
      "I don't honestly know. I'm pretty sure he's never known any sort of gentleness or kindness until the princes brought him here - I'm not sure he'd know what to do if anyone offered him any!"
      Mahrayne was pacing.
      "But I have to do something! I've upset him. And he's so small, and so pretty, and so... defenceless..." She growled at herself. "I just want to cuddle him until he falls asleep, and hold him safely 'til he wakes up."
      Leteetza shrugged.
      "That might work..."
      "Do you think... Do you think he'd let me?"
      "No idea. Though probably not, at least just yet. Let him get used to the idea that no-one's going to force him, or hurt him. At the moment he's just terrified of everything."
      Mahrayne nodded grimly.
      "But I must apologise if nothing else."
      Leteetza eyed her, frowning slightly.
      "Well, if it'll make you feel better..."

Back inside the suite the Hassinan slowly approached the sleeping platform, glancing at Jeice through lowered lashes. He seemed a little calmer, still cuddled in Ti'aasaan's arms, although fear still simmered just below the surface ... She stopped before the platform and dropped to her knees, then lowered herself until her forehead was pressed to the ground.
      "Jeice - I humbly ask for your forgiveness. I didn't know... I... I should have found out more before I... I'd never try to make you do anything you didn't want..." She bit her lip. "Shall I... would it make you happier if I went back to my room?"
      Jeice glanced at Ti'aasaan, panic-stricken. The female was apologising to him? But he was the one at fault! He'd displayed reluctance. And by his reluctance, his actions, he'd now obviously forced her to humiliate herself by begging forgiveness! He closed his eyes briefly, unable to breathe as terror gripped him. He knew the penalty for doing something so unthinkable...
      Ti'aasaan frowned. Jeice was rigid in his arms, the little creature too frightened to move - and Mahrayne was obviously waiting for an answer. The little zn'hre glanced helplessly at Zha'haabron.
      The king laid a cool hand very gently on Jeice's delicate little face. Big frightened eyes darted to look into a compassionate golden gaze.
      "There are many differences between our several peoples, Jeice, and we cannot learn them all at once. For now, know that Mahrayne is distressed that she caused you unease, and your forgiveness would ease her anxiety. We do not punish ignorance, nor find fault with it. We wish you to feel safe here. Will you excuse her forwardness?"
      Jeice glanced from the king to the Hassinan, still kneeling, her forehead still bowed to the ground.
      "Th... there's nothing to forgive... on her part. Can she forgive me...?"
      Mahrayne's head came up abruptly.
      "Oh no, sinam, you have done nothing the least wrong! I was... thoughtless. I won't be again, I promise." She smiled slightly. "Shall we be friends?"
      Jeice glanced at the king.
      "What is friends?"
      For a moment Zha'haabron regarded him calmly, aching inside for a being who didn't know the meaning of the word - then reminded himself he hadn't known what family was, once, either... He smiled.
      "Friends are people who would never hurt you. Who will listen to you, talk with you, comfort you when you're hurting, laugh with you when you're happy."
      Jeice's gaze flickered back to the Hassinan. He bit his lip.
      "I... I don't understand why you think you need forgiveness - but... Yes, I forgive you."
      Well, it was a small step forwards, Mahrayne thought to herself, rising to her knees. She glanced at Zha'haabron.
      "Should I return to my room, your Majesty?"
      A muttered chorus of objections from those older hostlings that were still awake startled Jeice, making him tremble in Ti'aasaan's arms, and he frantically shook his head. Ti'aasaan held him gently, stroking his hair, wondering if they were ever going to manage to get him to relax. Mahrayne beamed and slid onto the platform, careful not to get too close to the frightened creature, and settled down with the hostlings. Gradually they all drifted into sleep - to his own surprise, even Jeice, exhausted as he was from the stresses of the last few days.

Mahrayne woke first, as usual, extricating herself from the cool little bodies nestled around her and slipping from the sleeping platform. Quiet as she was, she nevertheless woke Jeice, who watched her warily from his place in Ti'aasaan's arms. She smiled at him gently as she made her way to her own room and Kelapa, not surprised when he didn't smile back...
      Kel was drowsing, but roused herself as the Hassinan slid under the cover and nestled close.
      "You messed up, didn't you?"
      Mahrayne blinked, confused. Kel smirked and tweaked a nipple.
      "Upset the little red one and annoyed the family."
      "How did you... Oh. You smelt it."
      "And heard it." She kissed the Hassinan's cheek. "Look, just because Saiya-jin are lecherous love-monkeys doesn't mean to say other species are! You should check before you get stuck in."
      Mahrayne bit her lip.
      "Yes, I realise that now..."
      "Good. Don't forget it. Now, we just have time before the rest of the family wakes up..."

Bataa had not been amused.
      "He's where?!"
      Manzano inclined his head.
      "At the moment he is in the custody of the High King of R'ren'nkh'ia."
      The big saurian scowled.
      "Why?"
      Manzano coughed.
      "It appears that one of the R'ren'nkh'ian princes and one of the Saiyan princes found him. He was injured and they took him back to the family's suite."
      "And when may I expect his return?"
      "Ah..."
      There was a moment's silence. Bataa drummed thick clawed fingers on the desk.
      "Well?"
      Manzano regarded the ambassador thoughtfully. The Omanir were not noted for either their reasonableness or their patience.
      "The High King has - taken a fancy to your schgirgh. He wishes to buy Jeice from you."
      "Does he indeed?"
      "He does."
      "And does he know what that entails...?"

Leteetza peered at the screen, frowning.
      "As far as I can make out, Jeice's kind don't have a name of their own. The Omanir just refer to them as subos. Sub-Omanir I guess."
      Mahrayne tapped the monitor.
      "Have I understood this properly? The Omanir conquered the - subos - homeworld and enslaved the natives?"
      Leteetza nodded.
      "Their own planet was overpopulated. They wanted a colony world. Ghrakigh was lush and rich in natural resources, Jeice's people more-or-less primitive natives with no technology. The Omanir just walked in."
      "And now they breed the subos as slaves?"
      "Not exactly a rare fate for a subjugated race."
      Mahrayne read further.
      "But this is horrible! It says here the females are forced to conceive, and the children taken away from their mothers as soon as they're born, raised in some sort of nursery, trained as sex slaves and then sold to the Omanir as soon as they reach the age of ten local years."
      Leteetza grimaced.
      "There are worse things. Though I can't think of any right at this moment."
      They both glanced around as Zha'haabron arrived back from the medical facility, expression quietly happy. Leteetza grinned at him.
      "All well, my Ssii'iin?"
      "Indeed." His smile faded. "What have you discovered?"
      Leteetza smirked wryly.
      "He's not going to come cheap..."

"I might consider it. I will need to speak with his Majesty to discuss terms."
      "Of course, sir. I will arrange it. I know the High King wishes the matter concluded swiftly: may I assume you feel the same?"
      Ambassador Bataa leered.
      "Oh, I'm in no hurry..."

In fact, given that the longer the Omanir ambassador was without his sex toy the more he could ask for him (as compensation for not having a warm, compliant body to service his needs) - which was why Bataa was quite happy to wait - it was another three days before Manzano was able to 'persuade' the saurian to meet with the High King. And even then it was only due to what passed into the records as a 'misunderstanding' that the meeting took place so speedily...

Bataa had a bodyguard, a massively built male called Rikuma. It would be unfair to call him simple-minded - single-minded perhaps, dedicated, a little slow on the uptake on occasion, but not exactly simple-minded... Bataa had neglected to tell Rikuma that Jeice's whereabouts were now known. Rikuma knew that his master was annoyed and frustrated at the little toy's loss. So he took it upon himself to hunt down the subo...
      Rikuma's senses were nowhere near as acute as the Saiyans', nor could he track ki-signatures. He nevertheless managed to trace Jeice to the suite, where Mahrayne and the R'ren'nkh'ian side of the family (less Zha'haabron, who was at the medical facility for yet another check-up) were preparing for the evening meal.
      Quite how Rikuma managed to overcome the Saiyan Guards on duty outside the suite was a mystery (they maintained afterwards that they never saw or scented him coming, at which Radittsu sent them back to Guard headquarters for a special 'refresher course'...). Once inside, he glanced around once and then made his way unerringly towards Jeice, who was helpless with terror on the sleeping platform beside Ti'aasaan...
      'haabron had flickered to stand between the bodyguard and his prey, arms crossed and expression an almost perfect replica of Zha'haabron at his most regal. Rikuma had leered - and backhanded the little prince across the room.
      Ordinarily this would have achieved his objective: he'd have been able to retrieve Jeice and return him to his master with no more effort. However, no-one had told him about the family...
      Kiraz, 'raadiin, 'jiisa, Le'leen, 'haavok and 'honee instantly moved to shield Ti'aasaan (who'd immediately wrapped Jeice in a protective embrace, glaring murder at the intruder), while Kobis, 'tiisaan, 'viirel and 'leesaan had flown to 'haabron's side as the little prince struggled groggily upright, shaking his head to try and clear it then halting with a sharply indrawn breath as the pain from his broken jaw mingled with the pain from his head where he'd hit the wall. The blood tickling down his face was almost a welcome relief... Kobis wrapped strong arms around him, supporting his friend as 'haabron struggled to stay conscious.
      Rikuma gaped then grinned at the children facing him, their small bodies an insignificant obstacle between him and his prey.
      Or so he thought.
      Moments later five sets of razor sharp teeth had fastened onto various parts of his body while Kiraz, snarling with fury, slammed his first ever ki-blast into the alien's face...
      It was very fortunate for all involved that Zha'haabron - pushing himself rather harder than was wise in his current condition - arrived back seconds later. Even Rikuma knew who - and what - the High King was.

Zha'haabron was a study in ice.
      Bataa was all but wringing his hands and cringing.
      "Majesty, I really cannot say often enough how sorry I am that this has happened."
      The king had left 'haabron - in pain, disorientated and unable to open his mouth - nestled in Kobis' arms, the hostling's face swollen and discoloured but (Zh'leet had reassured them all) already healing properly. Most of the rest of the children just wanted to kill something: their home, their sacred space, had been invaded and one of their own had been hurt. Rikuma was lucky that his master had sent him offworld immediately. Had he remained on Vejiitasei, he would not have survived - 'raadiin and Kiraz would, somehow, have seen to that. With Dadda Radiz' help.
      "I require recompense."
      Bataa winced.
      "Oh, I fully appreciate that, your Majesty. Perhaps if we consider Jeice's value we can reach an agreement...?"
      "My not killing your guard - and not jeopardising your negotiations with the Empire - should be sufficient remuneration."
      The Ambassador swallowed and inclined his head.
      "But, your Majesty, you overlook his full value, what it has cost to train and equip him over the years..."
      Zha'haabron regarded the saurian from half-closed eyes, a look of barely concealed distaste on his face.
      "Continue."
      The Omanir used gold as a currency. Gold was scarce on their worlds, but plentiful on R'ren'nkh'ia, so the large quantities Bataa was talking about impressed Zha'haabron rather less than the ambassador had hoped.
      "... he showed particular talent and sensitivity at an early age, so his training was extended for a year before he came onto the market, requiring an extra year's lodgings, food, clothing... He was also taught to dance, and is skilled in massage. His ghach represent a considerable outlay in themselves: they were done by a master in the most intricate and effective of designs, and are made of pure haghchah. And of course, there's the value of his accoutrements. All the finest leather, precious gems and metals, silks... Not to mention how long it will take his replacement to learn my tastes..."
      Zha'haabron closed his eyes briefly, a sudden vivid image of Zha'geekaan's 'tastes' forcing itself up from his memory. The impulse to destroy the saurian ambassador was strong... But that wouldn't help the rest of Jeice's people.
      As far as the king was concerned, the Omanir were candidates for conquest. He wondered how Vejiita would take to the idea...
      Bataa was watching him expectantly: he sighed and focussed on the contemptible creature sitting opposite.
      "How much?"
      "50 zgharks of gold."
      Manzano, who'd accompanied the king and been keeping a discreet eye on the proceedings, winced. Zha'haabron frowned faintly at him, asking in halting Saiya-go,
      "This is how much?"
      Manzano kept his voice low.
      "A zghark is double the weight of the subject under discussion. He's asking for 100 times Jeice's weight in gold."
      There was a tense silence as the zn'hre considered this. It seemed rather a lot to ask for a slave, even an exceptionally talented one (and he only had Bataa's word for that...) Then again, could one put a price on a life? On freedom?
      He nodded, ignoring Manzano's wide-eyed subtle shaking of his head.
      "Agreed. Providing Jeice remains with us for the three days it will take to have the gold transported from R'ren'nkh'ia."
      Bataa was staring disbelievingly; it was evident he'd quoted a grossly inflated sum and had expected to have to haggle. Manzano fixed him with a glare as a speculative light came into the blank red eyes.
      "This does not set any kind of precedent. Any future negotiations of this nature will be dealt with through and by the diplomatic corps."
      The ambassador grimaced, but nodded.
      "Very well. Agreed."
      Manzano slid a ready-prepared contract onto the desk: Bataa responded by producing Jeice's certificate of ownership. As ambassador and king exchanged the documents, the Omanir grinned widely.
      "A pleasure doing business with you, your Majesty. Now, I have one final, small request. May I accompany you back to your suite? I'd like to see the little hagarch one last time, to say goodbye. He's served - and serviced - me well over the years."
      "I would prefer not."
      "Please?"
      Zha'haabron glanced at Manzano, who shrugged. The zn'hre sighed.
      "Very well. But if it distresses him, you will leave immediately."
      "Certainly..."

Ti'aasaan was making some headway with Jeice - he'd persuaded the little being to let his hair be combed. The zn'hre had spent the last hour gently brushing the thick mass - not that it really needed the attention, it was obviously well cared for, but the simple rhythmic action had lulled Jeice almost into sleep. It was wonderful, Ti'aasaan thought to himself, to see the lovely little face calm, the lines of stress and fear soothed away. He glanced at Zha'haarak sitting nearby, a sheaf of Mahrayne's paper in his lap and a stylus in one hand, 'fallon and 'viirel cuddled up beside him.
      **I'd like to see him this much at ease all the time...**
      The prince smiled.
      **Then let us set ourselves that as a goal**
      Jeice sighed and shifted slightly, blinking slowly up at the little zn'hre.
      "Thank you."
      Ti'aasaan gently touched his cheek.
      "My pleasure. Do you need anything? Food, a drink?"
      Jeice shook his head, smiling shyly.
      "I... I can't imagine ever needing anything more than this."
      "Than what, sweetheart?"
      A small, graceful hand gestured around the suite.
      "This. It's so... peaceful. Nothing hurts."
      The zn'hre exchanged glances, and Zha'haarak bit his lip.
      **It's all too familiar, isn't it?**
      Ti'aasaan nodded, but before he could answer the outer door opened and they heard voices. One was Zha'haabron, the other...
      Ti'aasaan instinctively wrapped his arms around Jeice as the little creature whimpered, cowering in the zn'hre's grasp, his body shaking. That big, dark blue saurian being with the completely red eyes must be Bataa.
      Zha'haarak rose and limped to stand between Ti'aasaan and the ambassador - but Zha'haabron raised a graceful hand.
      "The ambassador is here with my assent." He gazed calmly at Jeice. "If that is acceptable to you."
      "Y... you'll stay?"
      "Of course."
      Jeice took a deep breath, his voice quavering.
      "All right..."

There was a certain - courtesy in Bataa's relinquishing his slave to his new owner. Sickening as the zn'hre found the whole situation, the Omanir's thanks for services rendered were sincere, as were his hopes that his new master would find him equally satisfactory - and that Jeice would perform with imagination and dedication. He went on to detail certain activities he particularly enjoyed and at which the subo excelled. It took nearly an hour, and by the time the big saurian was finished Jeice was a twitching bundle of nerves and Ti'aasaan was visibly fuming. Zha'haarak glanced at him worriedly.
**Zk'viss, please, be calm. Do not cause problems for our Ssii'iin. Or Jeice**
**I won't** the little zn'hre growled. **But oh, I'd like to see that h'k'vierch suffer...**

Bataa had been attended by a couple of silent, surly-looking servants carrying large cases, and before he left the ambassador laid these on the sleeping platform with an enigmatic - "Jeice will instruct you as to the employment of anything with which you are not familiar." Then the big saurian was gone. Out of Jeice's life.
      For long moments the little creature stared at the door, eyes wide, then slow tears began to trickle down his face. His glance switched to the king.
      "...Majesty?... I belong to you now?"
      Zha'haabron smiled, then slowly and deliberately tore up the certificate of ownership.
      "No, Jeice. You belong to yourself."
      "But," Ti'aasaan added hastily as the little creature began to tremble fearfully, "you'll stay with us, won't you? Until you're happy not to belong to anyone?" He frowned at Zha'haabron.
      **It was a kind thought, my Ssii'iin, but it might have been wiser to wait a little before doing that. He's known nothing but slavery, has no conception of what it is to be free. He's frightened**
      Zha'haabron closed his eyes, mouth tightening. Of course. How could I have been so thoughtless?
      He opened his eyes to find Jeice watching him apprehensively.
      "M... Majesty? What have I..."
      "Nothing, Jeice. You've done nothing." He lowered himself to the platform, sitting before the subo and offering a hand. "Understand that you are welcome with us, welcome to be part of the family, until you choose otherwise. No-one here will ask you to do anything you do not wish to do. We will take care of you. Will you stay?"
      Jeice looked into the king's golden gaze for a moment, then hesitantly took his hand.
      "I would be honoured."
      "Thank you."
      Ti'aasaan hugged the subo, grinning widely.
      "Good!"
      Jeice smiled shyly.
      "And there are many things I can offer in return. I am as skilled as my Mast... your pardon, Ambassador Bataa, said."
      Zha'haabron frowned, but Ti'aasaan looked intrigued.
      "You dance?"
      Jeice nodded.
      "The Ambassador found it arousing. So did his guests." His face was momentarily shadowed. "He had many guests..." He swallowed and forced a small smile. "But I enjoy the dance."
      "Mahrayne - the white haired female - is a dancer too."
      Jeice's face lit up with interest.
      "She is? I'll have to talk to her..."
      'fallon was investigating the outside of one of the cases, hissing quietly when his small fingers could get no purchase on the lock. Jeice smiled and moved gracefully to the pile of luggage. He gazed at the small zn'hre.
      "Would you like to see?"
      'fallon nodded eagerly, and Jeice pressed his fingers to the print-sensitive lock. It clicked open and the subo pulled back the lid.
      Inside was a whole load of... things. None of them immediately recognisable. There were strips and straps of black leather, some with buckles, some with clasps, some studded with metal, some long and relatively simple, others small - too small to fit around a wrist, even - and complicated, with loops and tags to join the straps together. There were long strips of silk in black, red and pure white, and things that at first glance looked like earrings, but were far too heavy to be hung on earlobes. And at the bottom of the case was a box, which Jeice extracted and opened...
      "Oh! Toys!" Ti'aasaan exchanged a grin with Zha'haarak: Zha'haabron frowned. Ti'aasaan beamed at his king.
      **We'll explain later, Ssii'iin**
      Jeice had smirked - actually smirked! - and nodded.
      "A favourite of the Ambassador's. He enjoyed their use greatly."
      "I can understand that..." Ti'aasaan was examining one of the rods, running his fingers over its smooth surface. He glanced up at Jeice. "So, everything else in here is a toy as well?"
      "Yes. Would you like to see how it all fits?"
      Ti'aasaan was about to nod eagerly when the king interrupted.
      "I think perhaps we should simply dispose of these. They are symbols of a bondage that's no longer applicable."
      Jeice's face fell.
      "If... if you wish it, your Majesty..."
      Blinking with startled incredulity, Zha'haabron inclined his head.
      "You wish to keep them?"
      "Some of them give great pleasure, your Majesty. To me as well as to others. I'd... I'd rather not get rid of them - if you're agreeable, of course..."
      Zha'haabron shook his head.
      "They are your possessions, Jeice. Of course you must do with them as you wish."
      Jeice smiled gratefully.
      "Thank you, your Majesty."
      Ti'aasaan, his eyes gleaming, gazed at the other cases.
      "Are they all full of things like this?"
      "Three of them. The other contains my clothing."
      "We should find somewhere for you to store everything." Zha'haabron rose from the platform. "We have a number of spare sleeping chambers - perhaps you would like to choose one for yourself?"
      Jeice bit his lip anxiously, then nodded and stood, pulling Leteetza's robe around him. Ti'aasaan caught his arm gently.
      "What's wrong?"
      "Noth... nothing..."
      The little zn'hre tugged the subo back down to the bed.
      "Yes there is. Tell me..."
      Glancing over his shoulder at the king, Jeice said, shakily,
      "I'd hoped... I found it - comforting to sleep here, with everyone else. But I realise that's too much to ask..."
      Ti'aasaan glanced up at the king, who looked thoroughly surprised and inclined his head.
      "Of course it isn't, Jeice. I simply assumed you'd prefer some privacy. If you wish to sleep with the family you will always be welcome. But you need a room for yourself anyway, to store your belongings and for those occasions when you require some peace and time to yourself." Zha'haabron smiled. "And there may be the odd occasion when I will ask you to retire there for the night - if, for example, we need to discuss purely family matters, or if one of us is hurt and needs special attention. We would not ask it lightly."
      Jeice's face had slowly brightened during this and he was now beaming happily. He dropped to the bed and lay prone, his arms and legs outstretched in what the zn'hre had assumed must be his kind's gesture of submission to another's will. After a moment he rose to his knees, still grinning.
      "Thank you, your Majesty. Thank you!"

When Leteetza and Kelapa returned to the suite after the afternoon's physical exercise with the hostlings, hybrids and heirs, Jeice had changed into pair of loose white trousers and a long sleeved, loose white silky shirt with fine black embroidery along the seams, and replaced his heavy earrings with smaller, silver hoops and studs. The returnees stood inside the door and gaped, Saiyan warriors and zn'hre children alike, stunned by the difference between the terrified creature he had been on his arrival and the graceful, cheerful individual that now faced them. Jeice bowed his head and smiled diffidently.
      "Welcome back."
      Kel grinned widely.
      "Well now! It's good to see you looking so well, Jeice."
      He blushed.
      "Thank you. If you'd care to make yourselves comfortable, the evening meal will be here soon - perhaps I may serve you?"
      "Oh, that's not necessary..."
      Jeice inclined his head.
      "But I'd like to."
      Kel glanced at Leteetza, who shrugged and quirked an amused eyebrow, and the taller warrior chuckled.
      "Far be it from me to object..."

Jeice had been anxious about the Saiyan males' reaction to his presence, but he needn't have worried. Radittsu and Hijau smirked at him, then simply accepted him as yet another member of the family, treating him as they treated the rest - an attitude that both confused and delighted him. But the most special moment of all came as they were finishing the meal.
      One of the older hostlings, an exquisite little creature with a cloud of bright emerald hair, long graceful arms and legs and melting golden eyes, had only picked at his food, expression miserable. Ti'aasaan had watched him, exasperation clear, for a few minutes, then run thin strong fingers through his hair.
      "It's unseemly to sulk. 'Rayne is entitled to some time with her partner."
      The hostling pouted, gazing at the little zn'hre through lowered lashes.
      "I know, maazi. But she could be giving me lessons..."
      Ti'aasaan glanced at the subo, grinning mischievously.
      "Why don't you go and speak to Jeice? He's a dancer too..."
      Seconds later Jeice found himself with a lapful of eager hostling, wide golden eyes gazing up at him.
      "You dance too? Please, can you show me?"
      Bewildered, Jeice gaped at Ti'aasaan, who chuckled.
      "That's Zha'tiisaan. All he's interested in is dancing."
      Jeice regarded the beautiful creature in his lap and smiled.
      "If you like."
      Radittsu smirked.
      "Why don't you show all of us? If you feel up to it, I mean." he added hastily as Zha'haarak fixed him with a wounded look.
      Jeice glanced hesitantly at the king, who nodded.
      "Please do, if you are happy with the idea. But please finish your meal first..."

Jeice paused in his room, pondering what sort of dance to perform. Regardless of how the young of his kind were treated - and being forced to learn how to accommodate a male (through the careful use of gradually enlarging 'toys' from the age of four local years until their first real experience, with their trainer, at the age of six) was standard amongst his kind, male and female both - his empathic abilities screamed at him that the zn'hre young, while not innocent of what happened during sex, most certainly had not experienced anything like it yet. Although the adults would enjoy it, a blatantly sexual dance might be - not offensive, exactly, but unbecoming to the audience. Something a little more sensuous, a little more elemental, might be more suitable.
He smiled to himself, pulling on tight, knee-length leggings almost the colour of his skin and a loose top consisting of multiple thigh-length, irregular strips of wispy translucent material in every shade of red and orange imaginable, suspended from a close-fitting collar. Facetted orange crystal studs in his ears, a heavy golden chain around each ankle and a thick, crystal studded bangle around each wrist and he was ready. Grabbing a favourite audio chip, he returned to the common room, where the floor cushions had been cleared to one side to give him space to perform.

And his audience was transfixed, watching the leaping, swirling fire-dance with wide eyes and parted lips. At the end, as he sank to one knee, arms extended above his bowed head, the applause gladdened his heart. He raised his head, smiling at the amazed and appreciative expressions on the faces of the watching zn'hre. Even the Saiya-jin were clapping, though he suspected that might be more from politeness than real admiration. But it didn't matter. He'd been able to give back a little something to repay just a little of the incredible compassion the family had shown him, their unbelievable kindness.
For almost the first time in his life, he was happy.

Servant
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Collective term for the various piercings, studs and rings the Omanir inflict on their sex slaves.
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Silver
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Sex slave, concubine.
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