It was a good thing that it had been a Friday night, because Priory Lowell was in no shape to teach class. Came the dawn, he was sitting on the couch, staring blankly at some happy-talk, caffeine-fueled morning bullshit chatter show. The coffee table was littered with empty beer bottles, and one empty whiskey bottle. The whiskey bottle had been only a third full when he'd run out of beer and started on it, and that was either a good or bad thing. It was good for the world at large, because a drunk Priory was not a good thing. It was bad for Priory, because he could still think, and that both hurt, and pissed him off.

I cannot fucking believe it. That ungrateful little bitch! Staying out all night--all night! Where the fuck did he spend the night? He doesn't have any place else to go, he didn't have enough money for a motel room. Priory sneered. Not unless someone else paid for it. That wouldn't surprise me. He probably picked up a trick--that's really why he didn't come home. Yeah, that's it--instead of getting his hair done he decided to have some fun and went to a bar and let himself get picked up and spent the night with some stud's cock up his pretty white ass.

Priory felt a stir of desire at the thought. The idea of his younger lover prostituting himself, offering up his body to the lusts of anonymous strangers was as erotic as it was enraging. Where the fuck does he get off, doing that? If I wanted that, I could find him plenty of customers myself. He snorted, beginning to search through the bottles on the table in hopes of finding one more swallow. Bet he'd be a good little moneymaker, too, but I'm not gonna have my personal pussy being used by anyone else.

Priory sighed aggrievedly. I take him in, I feed him, I clothe him, I help him get a scholarship, I instruct him in everything important, I give him all the sex he can handle, and what do I get in return? Nothing but aggravation and ingratitude. I'm going to have to slap that boy back into his place. Maybe if he can't get out of bed for a couple of days it'll get through to him. And I guess I'll have to go ahead and get those shackles and make him wear them around the house. Conway ought to be able to get some for me from that security supply company.

Sometime during the night Priory had considered throwing Bryant out, just letting the punk come back to find all his stuff scattered over the lawn. That fantasy had only lasted for a couple of seconds. Bryant was his, and he wasn't going to give up his property. No, he was keeping Bryant. He'd fixated on the boy when he was barely sixteen, and had worked for over a year to win his confidence and convince the foster care system that he would be a suitable guardian for Bryant. After helping to arrange his scholarship at Metropolis University, he'd managed to get the boy released from the system a few months early, assuring them that he'd have a stable home for as long as he needed.

Then there was all the time he'd spent training him, molding him to be the perfect bitch. It hadn't been easy. Initiating the sex hadn't been as easy as he'd hoped, either. He'd started off gradually--leaving his porn mags where Bryant had easy access. That had worked--he'd found more than one with sticky pages. Then he'd progressed to renting porn videos and leaving them in the open. Finally he'd popped on in when Bryant was studying in the living room. When the boy got up to leave, Pri had casually assured him that he could stay and watch--it didn't bother him.

After the first time, Priory had opened his pants and masturbated, casually saying that he knew that Bryant wouldn't mind, since he was a man, too. He noticed that Bryant got hard, a luscious bulge distending the fly of his jeans. The boy squirmed, but didn't do anything. Finally Priory had reached over and lightly traced the damp patch that was soaking through over his cockhead. Bryant had thrown him a startled look, those clear gray eyes huge and wary. Priory had kept his eyes fixed on the screen, where one man was being sodomized while he fucked a blond woman. He didn't remove his hand, just letting it rest there. Bryant had swallowed, then looked back at the screen, saying nothing. Priory had smiled slowly, knowing that he'd won. He unzipped the boy's jeans, pulled out his beautiful, young cock, and stroked him to a shivering, moaning orgasm. When he was done Bryant had slumped there for a moment, stunned, then jumped to his feet and run into the bathroom without a word. Priory had gotten a beer to celebrate.

He was disappointed when the boy hadn't automatically reciprocated the next time, but he had eventually. When he had shown no sign of going any further Priory had become impatient and dragged his head down into his lap. The subsequent blowjob had been amateurish, but knowing that it was the first time Bryant had ever had a cock in his mouth made it sexy as hell. He'd had to slap him for spitting out the come afterwards, but things had gotten better.

Every now and then Bryant showed a flair of independence that had to be stamped out quickly and efficiently. The tennis shoes had been a prime example. Then the kid had compounded his offense by trying to escape his just punishment. Priory felt justified when he learned about the broken arm. He'd figured that the boy would think twice before he sinned again, but apparently he'd been wrong.

Priory hurled the beer bottle across the room, yelling, "All fucking night!" He flinched as the bottle clanked into the TV screen, but luckily the tube didn't shatter. The bottle, made of more fragile glass, shattered though, leaving a heap of shards and souring beer dregs on the carpet. "Fuck! Now look what you made me do, you little shit! I oughta make you lick that up, once you pick up the glass."

Priory sat back and began the pleasant task of plotting out Bryant's future punishment.

Bryant woke up to the novel and pleasant sensation of being held. Priory never wanted to share a bed for anything but fucking, and that had always been perfectly all right with Bryant--Priory was no one's idea of snuggly. This was different.

He was laying on his back, and Trenton, on his side, was right up against him, a foot hooked over his leg, and his head resting comfortably on Bryant's shoulder. Clive was spooned up against his younger lover's back, a possessive arm draped over his waist, and his hand resting warm on Bryant's abdomen. Both he and the older Dom had stripped before drifting off to sleep, and the skin-to-skin contact was a sensual delight, only part of it sexual. It was more the closeness, the feeling of being so comfortable with someone that you could be naked and close without anything being demanded.

Bryant reached down and began to trace patterns on the back of Clive's hand. The older Dom grunted softly, still asleep, and began to mirror the actions, stroking Bryant's flat belly. Bryant took hold of his wrist, lifted his hand, and slipped two fingers into his mouth, sucking softly. He could see Clive's face from where he lay. Clive's eyelids twitched, but did not open. The corners of his wide mouth turned up, though. Uh huh. Bryant gave him the edge of his teeth. The smile broadened. He nipped.

Clive was over Trenton and on top of Bryant in a flash. Trent was abruptly awakened by two laughing, wrestling Doms about to shove him out of his cozy nest onto the floor. "Hey! Trying to sleep, here! Some people sort of wore my ass out last night, and I think I deserve..." he trailed off. Both the other men had gone still, and were watching him. "some consideration?"

Bryant and Clive exchanged looks. Trenton squawked and tried to scoot away, but found himself pleasantly buried under a pile of hard, warm, active male flesh. They ended up with Clive pinning down his torso, and Bryant lying across his thighs. "Uncle!" Trent gasped. "Uncle, uncle!"

"No, pet--daddy. I thought you knew that by now," Clive scolded, licking Trent's neck, causing him to squirm happily.

"I think he means me," Bryant offered. "I guess I'm Dirty Uncle Bri now."

"Oh, I don't know about the 'dirty' part," Trenton's tone was sarcastic. Bryant sighed. "He really asks for it, doesn't he?" Clive nodded, looking mock sad. "I guess I'll just have to prove it. Prepare to be molested."

"Clive! Are you going to permit me to be violated?"

"Permit? Lamb, I'm assisting."

Trenton groaned as Bryant gripped his cock and started to caress him with firm authority. "You're both wicked, evil men, and I don't love either of you one little bit!"

"You spank him for lying, right, Clive?"

"Is he lying?"

"I think I have proof positive right here. Look at this."

Clive twisted his head and looked back and down at Trenton's thickening cock. "Oh, yes, very nice, and I'd say, um, hard evidence." Trenton groaned, and Clive turned a stern look on him. "Something you want to say, boy?"

"No, sir. Just no spankies this morning, please."

"That depends. Were you lying?"

Trenton studied his lover carefully, weighing his reply. "I was playing."

Clive smiled tenderly. "Perfect answer. No spankies this time. Bryant?"

"Yes?"

"Do me a favor--suck his brains out his dick."

"Happy to."

Trenton would have yelped as the hot wetness enveloped his cock, but all he managed with Clive's tongue in his mouth was a moan. Clive was the best in everything sexual he'd ever experienced, of course (love would do that to you, but he felt sure he was being pretty objective--Clive was just that good), but there was no denying that Bryant was an exquisite cocksucker--and a ruthless one. He pinned Trenton's hips to the bed and devoured him with near ferocity. He didn't try to coax the boy along and make it last--he just took him, and Trenton was thrilled down to his toes. He had a lovely, mewling, shivering orgasm while he was being held by the man he loved. Was there any better way to start a morning?

When they were done Clive and Trenton showed Bryant that the shower could accommodate a threesome very nicely. The two Doms chatted while Trenton gave each a thorough, efficient wash. Then he stood, eyes closed in bliss as they returned the favor. When they were done, Bryant and Clive dressed while Trenton performed his morning chores of changing the bed and setting the linens to wash. Clive found some clothes for Bryant in his extensive collection of play costumes. Bryant was quietly pleased with a perfectly ordinary pair of blue jeans and a dark green Henley shirt. It was just so nice to be able to wear colors. He wondered if most people realized what a real pleasure that was? Nah. They'd have to spend a couple of years, 24/7 in a monochrome uniform to understand it.

In the kitchen Bryant watched Clive preparing breakfast, listing to the bright pop music Trenton had been given permission to put on the radio. "You don't make Trenton do all the household chores?"

"Good God, darling, why would I do that? We have a Dominant/submissive relationship, not a Master/slave." He smiled fondly, "Though we do like to play at it occasionally. He makes a lovely slave boy." Clive sighed. "We were given the most beautiful copper collar by a friend--it's just luscious with his hair and skin tone. And there's a very fun scene with a mock branding..."

"You wouldn't really brand him?"

Clive froze, then carefully lifted the pan of eggs off the burner, setting it down before turning to look at Bryant. "Pet, I'm going to put that question down to inexperience," he said quietly, but his eyes were hard. "I hope you realize that I would never do that to my precious boy--I'd never mutilate him like that."

Bryant bit his lip. "I'm sorry, Clive. Priory's talked about giving me a 'Property of' tattoo a couple of times."

The tenseness went out of Clive's stance, and he shook his head. "I should have known. Something like that would occur to him." He sighed, rubbing his face, clearly considering his words. "Branding is done--but only by the very, very deeply committed, or the exploitative. I would be highly suspect of any branding that wasn't done after the slave himself requested it. I'd also want a waiting period, and convincing arguments. It's just so fucking permanent, pet, and it's dangerous. Even someone with experience--and there are those, can make a mistake. You can never be one hundred-per cent sure of how an individual will react. I know of one time--no I wasn't there. I don't promote such things, so I don't witness them, but a close friend told me about it. It was the sweetest little submissive--just a little doll of a woman. She was in a committed relationship, and wanted to do this for her lover. He tried to talk her out of it, but..." he smiled, "Well, some submissives can be very headstrong if they're doing something to please their Doms. I guess I'd better take care of these eggs, before they go cold. Make toast, would you, dear? Trent likes that foul Nuttella on his, and he's allowed, on weekends."

As Clive scooped the fluffy scrambled eggs onto plates, he continued. "As I was saying, the girl finally managed to convince her lover, and they called in someone who is as expert in this thing as you can find these days. He could have made a good living in the Orient in the middle ages, adorning the concubines of sultans with body art and jewelry. The girl refused any sort of tranquilizer or anesthetic--allowing that was a huge mistake, but she wanted to experience it all, offering up the pain to her Dom. The brander allowed her to go without restraints, which was a horrendous mistake on his part. Believe me, he lost a lot of clientele after this incident--and rightly so. But she was such a bitty thing that when she asked to just have her Dom hold her, everyone thought it would be all right."

Clive snorted as he put the plates on the table and went to get silverware. "Any fool knows that in a situation like that, the fear and tension is going to simply flood the blood with adrenaline, and even frail people are capable of a lot when they're pumped up like that. Long story short, and yes, I know it's too late for that--she panicked. The brand has to be applied firmly, to get a good, clean burn. Well, doll baby turned into a bucking bronco at the first kiss of hot metal. The artiste got off balance and instead of the iron being thrown off, he accidentally drove his weight against it. The metal was white hot, and it sank in almost an inch." Bryant paled, and Clive nodded. Anyone who'd ever had a burn could empathize.

"It wasn't a pretty, clean burn, either. And to top it off, the poor lamb went into shock. They had to rush her to the emergency room. Oh, she was all right, aside from a hideous mark that will require plastic surgery to fix. But darling, they had a hell of a time trying to explain a third degree burn wound in the shape of the lover's initials." He heard Trenton come out of the little laundry room, and his voice lowered. "Let's not discuss this any more. Trenton knows about it, but it upsets him."

Bryant nodded his agreement as the other boy breezed into the kitchen. He was moving to the song on the radio, and as he entered, he finished singing the chorus, "...walkin' on sunshine, and doesn't it feel good?" He did a spin, and Bryant burst out laughing. "Hey, I happen to know that I'm a good dancer!"

Bryant waved his hand, chuckling helplessly for a moment. Finally he said, "Yeah, you are. It's just that I wasn't expecting a nude floorshow with breakfast."

Clive sounded amused. "If it bothers you, I can have him get dressed."

Bryant snorted. "Totally unnecessary offer, and you know it, Clive." He grinned at Trenton. "Don't get all formal on my account, babe." He glanced at Clive, touching his thigh. "May I?" Clive nodded, and Bryant patted his leg. Trenton immediately sat on his lap, hooking an arm around the other boy's neck.

Clive brought the food to the table, and watched fondly as Bryant fed Trenton, licking away the Nuttella when the chocolate-hazelnut paste smeared Trenton's mouth. They had a leisurely, pleasant breakfast. Clive had generously given everyone at Attitudes the weekend off ("Lord, dear, everyone needs a weekend to themselves sometime."), so there was nowhere he or Trenton had to be.

Trenton hopped up to remove the dishes, and said, "So, what's the plan for today?"

"Well," Clive combed his hand thoughtfully through his hair. "I'd say it depends on our guest. There's a new exhibition of Impressionists at the museum, and it's lovely weather, so we could have a picnic in the park, or..." he gave Bryant a level look. "we could do something more constructive."

There was silence for a moment. Trent paused in wiping a plate, but said nothing. The sort of decision Bryant had before him couldn't be made based on the arguments or pleadings of others--it was far too personal, and important.

Bryant blew out a breath. "Or I could ask you to help me go get my things from Priory's place." His wide mouth tightened. "I won't say 'home'. It's never been home to me. Fuck, it's never even really been shelter. It's been a cell." He straightened a bit, eyes lighting. "It's been a waiting room."

Clive nodded in satisfaction. "Yes. You've been marking time till you were ready to be yourself, and it looks like the time has come."

Trenton walked over and silently hugged Bryant. Bryant returned the hug, and said, "I don't want you to come, Trent." Trenton started to protest, and Bryant put his hand over the boy's mouth. "Don't argue about this. I know you want to help, but Priory isn't... he isn't stable, Trent. I don't think he'll do anything too stupid if there's a witness, but I can't be sure, and I'm not going to risk you."

Trenton turned pleading eyes to Clive, but his Dom shook his head. "No, precious, he's right about this. Before you get huffy, I'm not denigrating your manhood."

Trenton snorted. "Well, I know that."

Clive rolled his eyes at Bryant. "Don't you just love a man who's comfortable with his sexuality?" Clive stood and took the boy into his arms. Trenton scowled, stiffening, and Clive jogged him gently. "Precious, I know that you wouldn't back down from... from Lex Luthor himself if it was to help one of your friends, but the fact is that you are not an aggressive person, and you know that, don't you?" Trenton nodded reluctantly. "There's no point in you being put in the way of possible violence, if it can be avoided. Agreed?"

Trenton sighed. "Oh, all right. But if you come home lumped up, I'm going to 'I told you so' to death while I tend your booboos."

Clive kissed him. "Good boy." He pushed Trenton away and swatted him on the bottom. "Go get dressed. I talked to Elise, and she's willing to teach you how to make her special rum balls, and you can go down to Lavender's Green today. You said you wanted to do those for Christmas, didn't you?" Trent brightened, and went out to dress. Clive tipped a look at Bryant. "Whatever you do, you are not to let him know that we're taking Mrs. Havasnark, and not him."

Bryant gaped. "We are?"

"Darling, according to Mrs. Havasnark, she has faced down both Cossacks and Bolsheviks, and I wouldn't put it past her. Anyway, the more witnesses, the better. Besides, she has a larger car than I do--it'll be easier to carry things."

"That won't be much of a problem," Bryant said. His voice was tart. "All I really want out of there is me."