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"A gift from Trin?" Tristan Asheton eyed the parcel set in front of him warily. Although he loved his twin, he was always on his guard whenever she felt the need to send him "presents". Granted, he certainly hadn't minded the jade and ivory-handled riding quirt; however, he felt the packing material of flavored condoms had been a bit much. This particular package was about a hand-width's breadth, and just longer than his hand length-wise. It was silver, tied with a deep purple ribbon and much heavier than it looked.
Carefully opening the new prize, Tristan was confused at the contents of the metal box. On a lining of cream-colored velvet lay a single, large silver key with several amethyst gemstones set into the handle. There was also a slip of parchment, evidently meant as a message to him. Carefully unfolding it, he read the note.
Mr. Asheton:
Please accept this gift on behalf of your sister. The Amethyst Key is yours to do with as you will. We request that you pack yourself enough clothing for an extended stay at The Palace, where your Key will be awaiting your arrival. At ten o'clock tomorrow morning, a car will arrive to take you to a private plane, which will then transport you to The Palace for your vacation. Be sure to remember the Amethyst Key and keep it on your person at all times for verification.
"Okay, now what the hell is she doing?" he asked, re-reading the note. "What's this Palace place?" Sighing, he realized that this is one time when Trinity's "gift" would raise more questions than answers until he arrived at his destination. With a wry smile and a feeling of slight foreboding, he set out to pack his luggage for a two-week stay.
"Mr. Asheton, I'm pleased to see that you made it," the receptionist greeted with a warm smile. "I trust your transportation was satisfactory?"
"Very," Tristan replied cordially. The limousine had brought him to the airfield, where a private jet was waiting to fly him to the Palace. The flight had been relaxing, to say the least. Every need or want was provided to him, the attendant was kind, albeit mysterious.
"Wonderful," she purred. "Please follow them and they'll show you your room. The Amethyst Key, correct?" Nodding her head, she pointed out a pair of rather androgynous-looking individuals, clothed in loose white tunics and pants.
"Right," he affirmed, nodding slowly as he looked to his guides. They couldn't have been very old, but they had an eerie timelessness about them, particularly in their twin stares. "Uh, my luggage?"
"That will be taken care of, as well," the woman told him as another individual appeared out of nowhere, dressed in the same style as the two standing before him. The new arrival picked up Tristan's luggage and waited silently for the cue to follow them to the room. "If you need anything, dial 0-3-9 on your phone in the room. And enjoy your stay, Mr. Asheton."
"Uh?sure, thanks," he replied warily, following the servants down the hall. Trin, I love you, but what the hell have you gotten me into?
"This is your room, Sir," one of the guides said, stopping before a large iron door with a keyhole that Tristan suspected must be for the key he held in his hands. "The Amethyst Key is for you to do as you will. If there are any complaints about your slave, please let us know. Enjoy your stay."
"My what? Hey, wait a second, where are you going?" Tristan cried turning to watch the pair walk away down the hall without another word. He turned to the man carrying his luggage and knew immediately that he would get no response from him. "Well, I guess there's one thing left to do and find out what my loving sister got me into." Holding up the key, he slid it into the keyhole and heard the soft click of the lock. Pushing carefully, the door swung open and the sound of a harp spilled out.
Stepping into the room on vibrantly colored rugs, Tristan took in the surroundings of the room. On one wall, there was a large and well-maintained bookcase. Most of the light in the room was supplied with ornate oil lamps, although there were a few chandeliers above on the high gilded ceilings. The walls were a deep gray marble, streaks of white and pale gray threaded through it. The bed was a large oak four-poster with deep purple curtains and sheer burgundy linings. There were several pillows and the bedspread was a myriad of subtle dark burgundy, purple and gray.
But the next thing Tristan noticed about the suite was the beautiful music and a lilting baritone voice singing along.
"Bold Arder went forth one summer morning
To view the merry green wood;
For to hunt for the deer that run here and there
And there he espied Robin Hood.
Aye, and there he espied Robin Hood."
Walking toward the sound of the voice, he completely forgot the man who had carried his luggage, enraptured by the music and had to know where it was coming from. At the back of the room, there was a comfortable-looking couch. It was facing a small upraised stage, carefully lit with soft lights and in the center sat a harp. At the harp, there was a beautiful creature in deep blue silk harem pants with long, silver waist-length hair and deeply tanned skin. It was this bewitching creature who was singing the song and playing the instrument. His eyes were closed, and he sang as though there were no one in the room but himself.
"What a fellow art thou? quoth bold Robin Hood,
And what is thy business here?
For now, to be brief, thou dost look like a thief
And I come for to steal the king's deer.
Aye, come for to steal the king's deer.
"No, I am the keeper of this parish
The king hath a-put me in trust;
And therefore I pray thee to get on thy way
Or else to upstand thee I must.
Aye, Or else to upstand thee I must."
Still entranced, Tristan silently moved forward and sat down, watching the young man intently, noticing small details, such as the several rings lining his earlobes, the feathers braided into the front of his hair, the slender fingers on graceful hands. Bells on his ankles and collar jingled softly on the boy's lithe body as he played, almost as if her were a part of the music itself. It was very possibly the most beautiful sight he had ever seen in his life.
"'Tis thou must have more partakers in store
Before thou upstand me in deed,
For I have a staff, he is made of ground gaffe
And I warrant he'll do my deed.
Aye, and I warrant he'll do my deed.
"And I have another, quoth bold Robin Hood,
He's made of an oaken tree,
He's eight foot and a half and would knock down a calf
And why shouldn't a' knock down thee?
Aye, and why shouldn't a' knock down thee?"
Tristan didn't even notice when servants on silent feet entered the room and set down food and a decanter of wine next to the couch. There was too much to the singer to possibly tear his eyes away from. He unconsciously leaned forward, listening in anticipation to the story being sung, amazed by the annunciation and projection in the room, since he had not paid enough attention to notice the full impact of the acoustics.
"Let us measure our staves, says bold Robin Hood
Before we begin and away,
If by half a foot mine should be longer than thine
Then that should be counted foul play.
Aye, and that should be counted foul play.
"Then at it they went, for bang, for bang,
The space of two hours or more.
Every blow they swung makes the grove to ring
And they play their game so sure.
Aye, and they play their game so sure.
"Then bold Robin Hood drew forth bugle horn,
And he blew it both loud and shrill,
And direct thereupon he espied Little John
Come running a-down the hill.
Aye, come running a-down the hill.
"O what is the matter? then said Little John
You are not doing well, he said.
O, says bold Robin Hood, here's a tanner so good
And I warrant he's tanned my hide.
Aye, and I warrant he's tanned my hide.
"If he's such a tanner, then says Little John,
A tanner that tans so true,
We'll make-a no doubt but we'll have a fresh bout
And I warrant he'll tan my hide too.
Aye, and I warrant he'll tan my hide too.
"That thing shall not be, says Bold Robin Hood,
For he is a hero so bold,
For he has best play'd, he is master of his trade
And by no man shall he be controll'd.
Aye, and by no man shall he be controll'd."
Tristan couldn't help himself and immediately began clapping for the musician in earnest. It was rare that he had the chance to hear such fine music. The young man's eyes flew open in shock and stared at Tristan with eyes so dark blue, they seemed unreal, lined in black, long feathery lashes blinking down onto slightly reddened cheeks. His teeth bit down lightly on painted blood red lips before his head bowed forward and he removed himself from his perch.
With the grace of a cat, the young man made his way before the couch on bare feet, the bells jingling once again with his movements. Stopping before Tristan, he knelt down, his head bowed. "M-Master, I'm terribly sorry," the whispery voice apologized. "I had heard no word of your arrival. I am deeply sorry for my disobedience and failure to greet you as I should have?shall I get you a whip, or would you like to browse the punishment implements yourself?"
"Punishment?" Tristan asked in disbelief. "Why would I punish you? This was a beautiful greeting to arrive to. Why are you so upset? It's alright."
The slave's head slowly raised, deep blue eyes wide with amazement. One braid swept past his painted lips as they parted ever so slightly. "Master? Are you certain?" he whispered, evidently in shock.
Tristan smiled in return, hoping to calm the young man. "Positive. Now, why don't you tell me who you are and what you do here?"
Curling his legs beneath him, the silver-haired man looked up at the dark-haired one on the couch. "My name is Nikita, Master and I am your slave, to do with as you wish." Crawling forward a little, he rested his head on the couch, gazing up at his master lovingly. "Anything you want, Master. Anything at all."
Tristan's eyes grew wide at the intonation in Nikita's voice. "You don't mean you?uh?I mean?" he stammered. True, Nikita was beautiful and he'd had a tumble or two between the sheets with a few men, but none of them had ever been so lovely. And this one looked so positively innocent, he couldn't bear to think of doing anything to him.
Nikita smiled with an impish look on his face. "Why, of course, Master," he replied. "I'm your slave, to do with as you wish. I certainly have no objections, either. You're very kind and rather handsome, really." Nikita let his eyes wander over his Master with a great deal of satisfaction. He was very attractive and seemed to be a gentle person; the sort of Master that he'd been hoping and wishing for. He carefully scooted a bit closer, refusing to be so assuming as to climb up on the couch next to the older man, but aching to touch him, nonetheless.
"Um?thank you," Tristan choked out. "You're very?beautiful. And please, just call me Tristan, alright? It certainly wouldn't be fair of me to call you by your name, if you won't call me by mine." Nikita had moved a little closer to him and reached out to wrap one shapely arm about his lower leg, resting his head on Tristan's knee.
Nikita blushed again. "Very well, Tristan, if you wish for me to call you that," he agreed. "Would you like anything to eat? Are you thirsty? The others brought you some things, but if you don't like it, I can have them bring you something else." He wanted very much to please this Master; he wanted to keep him. Tristan seemed so perfect, he hoped that he could make Tristan happy, so he wouldn't leave him all alone in the palace.
"I?well, I guess I am a little hungry," he said thoughtfully. Before he could move, Nikita was on his feet and bringing him a plate of food. "What are you doing, Nikita?" he questioned when the slave propped himself up on all fours and somehow managed to place the plate on his back and stayed there.
"Well, you'll need a table to eat off of, Tristan," Nikita replied happily. Then, he glanced up at the dark haired man and smiled provocatively at him. "See anything you like?"
"You really don't have to do this," Tristan offered, picking the crockery off the slim back.
"Oh, but I want to," Nikita insisted. "Please, let me do something for you; anything. Please, Tristan, just let me make you happy." His eyes turned to a pleading look. They started to well up with desperate tears, but he turned away before Tristan could actually see him cry. He hadn't meant to act like such an infant, but he loathed the thought of being rejected by such a wonderful Master. His head bowed down and he tried to keep his composure. It certainly wouldn't do to make Tristan dislike him and ask for someone else.
Tristan realized that Nikita's shoulders had started to shake slightly. He suddenly felt rather bad for the slave, since he was only trying to do his job. But he couldn't imagine using such a beautiful creature as Nikita for furniture or a whipping boy?or even just sex, for that matter. Setting the plate on the couch, he slid to the floor behind the silver-haired boy and reached out a hand. Placing it on Nikita's shoulder, he felt his slave stiffen in shock.
"Nikita?I'm sorry," Tristan murmured, trying to soothe him by running his fingertips down the other's back. He watched in fascination as Nikita's entire body seemed to jump and respond to his simple touch. The dark, smooth skin felt like silk under his fingertips and he marveled at the shift of muscle as he arched under his Master's touch.
"Oh, Master?Tristan?" Nikita pleaded, turning around, curling himself up in his Master's lap. He nearly burst into tears when he felt Tristan's arms close around him, stroking his hair and the heat of gentle breath on his forehead. "Please let me make you happy. I want you to be pleased with me?"
"Nikita, I am pleased with you," Tristan assured him, pulling the smaller body closer. "I just can't use you like that. You aren't furniture, you aren't something I can just take my temper out on, do you understand that? You're a human being; a beautiful, fragile human being." He couldn't stop himself from bestowing a gentle kiss on the boy's forehead, then rested his own on the top of Nikita's head.
"But, I'm a slave," Nikita protested. "That's what I'm doing here. Didn't you understand that when you bought me, the key?"
"Actually, I didn't know anything about this," Tristan confessed. "The key was a gift, from my sister. I had no idea what this place was or that I'd be getting a slave."
"But?then why did you come here?" the slave asked. "If you didn't know?"
"I foolishly trusted my sister," Tristan replied with a soft chuckle. "But then again, I've always trusted Trin."
"What's she like?" Nikita questioned, snuggling closer. He heard a faint rumble, which he assumed was Tristan's stomach. "You should eat something, you know."
"What about you?" Tristan asked, picking at the plate as Nikita slid off his lap and onto the carpet beside him. "Aren't you hungry?"
"No, you need to eat first." Nikita shook his head and looked down at the carpet.
"I can't very well eat by myself," Tristan said seriously. "Get yourself a plate and come sit with me, then I'll tell you about Trinity, okay?"
Nikita looked warily at the food. "Well, I really don't know if I could eat any of it," he admitted. "It looks rather strange?"
"You've never had stuffed mushrooms before?" Tristan asked. Nikita shook his head shyly, blushing. He'd never had a Master that had eaten anything strange, like Tristan did. "What about jumbalia?"
"Jumba what?" Nikita asked.
Tristan almost burst out laughing at the look of utter confusion on Nikita's face. "It's Cajun food," he explained. "Here, I've got an idea, okay? Stay right here." He stood up and walked over to the lay out of food at the table and piled a few other things on the plate, picking up various fruit and whatnot. He had to smile when he realized Trinity must have left the instructions for what to bring him, since everything he particularly liked was there. He also poured a few glasses of wine, placed it all on a large tray and instructed for Nikita to close his eyes.
Nikita obediently shut his eyes and waited patiently for Tristan's return. He smiled a little when he heard his Master speak to him again. "This is a game Trin and I used to play when we were younger," he heard Tristan explain. "By the way, Trinity is my twin sister. Anyway?here, open your mouth, would you? Keep your eyes closed, though." He opened his mouth slightly and was slightly taken back when he felt something being placed on his tongue. It was sort of bitter, but had a nice flavor and texture. He'd almost forgotten to chew when he realized that Tristan had placed it in his mouth.
"Hm," he said slowly, swallowing the food. "What was that?"
"Did you like it?" Tristan asked, the smile evident in his tone.
"Yes, I think so," Nikita replied. "I've never tasted anything like that before."
"It's called Star fruit," Tristan explained. "I tend to like it on occasion. Here's the next sample; tell me what you think, okay?" Nikita nodded obediently and opened his mouth once again. This was much different from the fruit. It was firm and somewhat filling in texture and the taste was almost smoky. There was a distinct cheese flavor and garlic, along with something else he couldn't quite place. It was sort of thick, so he had to swallow a few times before he spoke.
"That was very odd," he murmured, pondering the aftertaste. "Kind of?heavy."
"Here, have a drink of this," Tristan advised, bringing a glass of wine to the slave's lips. "Those were stuffed mushrooms, by the way. The cheese kind of sticks, doesn't it?"
"A little," Nikita admitted, taking a drink of the wine. "What's this, then?"
"Reisling," Tristan told him, smiling at the contemplative look on the other's face.
"It's sort of dry," he finally said. "But good. Especially with the mushroom aftertaste."
"You have excellent taste," Tristan remarked with a grin, taking a sip of wine. "I happen to enjoy the flavor myself." He laughed a bit when Nikita's eyes opened and looked at him in wonder.
"Really?" he asked shyly.
"Really."
"May I?" Nikita asked after a long silence, indicating the plate.
"Certainly," Tristan complied. He watched as Nikita studied the plate for a moment, then picked up one of the mushrooms and held it out to him. Closing his eyes, he opened his mouth and allowed Nikita to feed him the mushroom, playfully closing his lips on the boy's fingers for a moment, sucking lightly. He heard the small gasp from his slave and tried not to smile as he chewed the vegetable and swallowed. He slowly opened his eyes and looked directly at Nikita. "How about this?" he asked, picking up a piece of shrimp and placing it in his mouth.
"Hot!" Nikita yelped, chewing and swallowing as fast as he could. He choked a little on the spice burning at the back of his throat.
"Here, eat this," the older man instructed, breaking off a chunk of a roll and feeding it to him. "It'll take the sting off. Water only makes it worse."
"What was that?" Nikita asked, his eyes wide open, his lips parted to breathe in air.
"That was jumbalia," Tristan explained. "Cajun food is pretty spicy. Sorry about that."
"It's okay," Nikita assured him. "I just wasn't expecting that."
"Well, I'll know to make sure to watch the Cajun stuff with you, then," Tristan told him. "How about this, let's just eat and talk for a while, and you can tell me what's expected around here, okay?"
Nikita smiled a little. "Yes, Tristan, I think I would enjoy that very much."
On to Part 2
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