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Kevin sat a upon a stool near a bar-like countertop, watching Fannar move expertly about the kitchen, preparing several dishes simultaneously. The little white wolf had come to wake him perhaps twenty minutes ago, giving him time to don his new cream-colored pants and tunic (Fannar had estimated his sizes quite correctly) and, with a gulp of misgiving, walk to the kitchen to await the arrival of the Baron. It seemed that the arrival would be briefly delayed, and Kevin was uncertain if that were a blessing, a curse, or some devilish combination. He had to admit, however, that he wasn't able to think about it too much, considering that simply viewing the kitchen was enough to strike awe into the heart of just about anyone who had any interest in or love of food.

"Are you sure that I can't help?" Kevin asked.

Fannar smiled at him with gentle affection. "You're very kind to ask, Kevin. As you can see from the various appliances and utensils here, my Master has been very generous with me. I have all the help that I need from these wonderful machines. For example, the sink is equipped with a special tap and heater that provides water at 85°C, to prepare instant hot drinks quickly. For brewing proper teas, however, we have a different device that can be set for temperatures specific to bring out the best of the leaves' flavor."

"I don't think I ever knew that different leaves needed different temperatures."

"Fannar," said a deep, rolling voice approaching from the living room, "is a treasure trove of culinary information."

Kevin jumped up from his chair, narrowly avoiding jumping out of his fur, as the Master of the household approached. The great black wolf was no less imposing for not wearing the black leather greatcoat that Kevin remembered from that terrible night. His garb for this evening seemed very casual indeed, a simple dark gray tunic shirt and loose-fitting pants gathered at the waist with what seemed to be a silk belt. His height and general size alone would command presence, even in this house where the ceilings were taller than usual to accommodate him. It was his eyes, however, that captured the pup's attention - the ice-gray eyes that seemed to contain worlds, that could see far more than they would ever reveal involuntarily. They were soft at the moment, these eyes, and Kevin found himself quickly praying that he never see them turn hard against him.

"Good evening, my lord," the squire said, automatically shifting into the socially acceptable titles used when guests were present. "You have met our guest previously, but if I may make a more formal introduction...? Kevin..." The little wolf paused. "I beg your pardon, I have neglected to ask your full name, sir."

The spaniel flinched briefly at the use of the word "sir" aimed at himself. Both of the wolves waited quietly and respectfully while he gathered his wits. "My fault entirely," he demurred. "It has been some time since I have had use for my full name. Kevin Allen Pembroke."

Fannar bowed slightly. "Kevin Allen Pembroke, may I present to you Baron Heinrich Alexander von Mittelsachsen."

The great black wolf stepped forward, a polite yet genuine smile on his muzzle, his large paw outstretched. "Welcome, Mr. Pembroke." He took the spaniel's paw firmly, gently, shaking it as if the action were a function of etiquette practiced over many years. "I trust that you've been well looked-after."

"Very well, sir... erm, my lord." Kevin felt himself frozen to the spot - another error, something one could be punished for...

The Baron smiled gently. "I'm glad. Fannar is quite efficient in all that he does for me."

"Thank you, my lord," said the squire, offering a small bow. "I believe that dinner will be ready within the half hour. May I prepare an aperitif for you and your guest?"

Turning to his guest, the black wolf explained, "With larger gatherings, I will often suggest a small quantity of sherry or even claret cup - something that few other than Fannar know how to make palatable! For more personal entertaining, I find that I prefer the non-alcoholic drinks. You are, of course, welcome to whatever you would like."

For a moment, Kevin wished for as strong a shot of whiskey as he could stomach, just to get his jaw unhinged. Eventually, he managed to stammer out, "Whatever you're having, my lord."

"Excellent." Turning to his squire, the Baron requested two glasses of something called Tranya, which seemed to be a non-alcoholic fruit drink with sparkling water that tickled the spaniel's nose. "Let's go into the living room and talk a bit, Mr. Pembroke."

Kevin followed the great black wolf into the main room of the house, where the Baron sat in a huge chair that could only have been designed especially for him. It held the vague air of a throne, perhaps because of its size, or perhaps because of the small hassock to one side where a slave might sit at his Master's paws. Unlike a more common, functional sort of throne, it was richly upholstered and appeared to be particularly comfortable for the wolf. The Baron gestured to an equally well-designed chair for the spaniel to rest on, and Kevin hoped that his manners weren't slipping as he tried to sit as comfortably as he could.

"Forgive me if I am indiscreet," the wolf began. "I am first concerned that you are well after your ordeal. Have you seen doctors?"

"Yes, my lord," Kevin began, taking a sip of the Tranya as if it really were alcoholic. "I have been given a clean bill of health."

"Fannar says that you were injured. A dislocated shoulder."

"That was seen to, my lord; I was healed."

"Does it still cause you discomfort?"

"Only occasionally, my lord."

The Baron smiled softly. "Mr. Pembroke, I appreciate your respectful attitude. It is not necessary to refer to me as 'my lord' in every sentence."

Before he knew what he was about, Kevin leapt from his chair to kneel, to cower, at the Baron's paws. "Forgiveness, O Master, this horrible unworthy has..." The rest of the ritual saying was cut off in his throat. He felt the real horror begin as he raised his head slowly toward the Baron, certain that he would be severely punished. His entire body trembled as he forced himself to look up and into the Baron's face.

What he saw there confused him. The great black wolf was leaning toward him, but not in anger; the brows were knotted, the muzzle slightly open, and the eyes - those incredible ice-gray eyes - gazed upon the spaniel with nothing but concern and compassion. Tenderly, a huge black paw came to rest softly upon Kevin's arm. For a very long moment, neither moved from his place; Kevin still shook, unsure what to do or say. His eyes darted from place to place about the room, as if looking for some sort of answer or escape, but always his eyes came back to those of the wolf who towered above him, the imposing, powerful figure that felt not threatening but protective.

Kevin sensed his muzzle moving, but no words came out. He felt utterly paralyzed, his mind refusing to make any coherent sense of what was happening to him. It took a moment for him to realize that the Baron was speaking to him.

"Focus on my eyes," the great black wolf said softly. "Breathe. Inhale... yes, now exhale... breathe in deeply... and out..." The Baron nodded, his eyes never leaving the spaniel. "Say 'flagon.'"

The pup's mind couldn't understand. Flagon?

The Baron's voice remained quiet and steady. "Say 'flagon,' Mr. Pembroke. Say it."

Kevin put his teeth to his lower lip, trying to make the fricative appear, stuttering air several times before finally croaking out something close to the word.

"Once more, please. Flagon."

"F-f-f-f-fl-fl-fl-flagon."

"Breath in deeply and say it again. Flagon."

Dragging in air, the spaniel pushed out again, "Flagon."

"Flagon filled," the Baron intoned.

"Flagon filled."

"Flagon filled with fine home brew."

Kevin repeated the words, and in doing so, became aware that he was confused - why was he saying such silly words? And in that moment, the Baron's lips curled upward ever so slightly.

"Better?" the wolf asked.

The spaniel nodded, his breathing still quick, his heart still racing, but his mind brought back to him for the time being. "Yes." His mind tried to shout that something was missing, that he wasn't saying everything correctly, that... He breathed in sharply and half-shouted, "Flagon!" He shuddered once and looked back at the wolf, his smile more a fearful rictus but at least containing some semblance of sense once again.

The Baron nodded. "It is merely a trick to divert the mind when it has been overloaded. You can think again, yes?"

Kevin breathed purposefully and nodded. "Thank you, M--" He cut off the word quickly, felt another thrill of fear go through him, then was brought back again by looking into those compassionate gray eyes. "Thank you," he said again, resisting even my lord to complete his sentence.

"You are welcome. Please, sit down again. Relax yourself." Kevin followed the invitation as best he could as the great black wolf continued. "I had noted even that night that you were well-behaved." The hint of smile melted slightly. "Mr. Pembroke... it is unforgivable for a host to make his guest uncomfortable. So first, I must offer my apologies to you for hurting you. I ask that you trust that you are safe here. You are my guest." The lips curled back upward slightly once more. "If I read the question upon your face correctly, you want to know why."

The spaniel coughed a sort of laugh, recovered himself. "If you please."

Nodding once, the Baron spoke. "I could not help you that night, so long as you defended the actions of your then-Master. Your actions - your eyes - seemed to plead for some other answer to your predicament. I gave to you a name that, when you mentioned it to the right people, would bring you to me. It is not a name well-known, and I would ask that you respect that privacy."

"I shall, my lord." Kevin bowed slightly, as if taking a vow - which was a close as he could come to think of it.

"Very good. My desire is to help you, if I can, Mr. Pembroke. You have been released from your contract."

"I've been thrown out as damaged goods." Kevin flinched slightly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't--"

"Your words tell more truth than mine," the Baron said softly. "Sometimes, using polite terms is nothing more than an attempt to hide emotions and unpleasant facts. If I may venture a guess, it would be accurate to say that you were abused, but truthful to say that you were brutalized." The wolf held up one huge paw in a placating gesture. "We need not speak of it now, unless you wish it."

Kevin, his heart in his throat, let himself dare. "Not before dinner, perhaps."

The smile on the great black wolf's muzzle was large enough to show a few particularly impressive fangs, yet Kevin felt no fear as several tiny chuckles gently shook the Baron's capacious breast. "You show both wisdom and wit. I feel that my intuition has been confirmed." He looked up as Fannar entered the room. "Well, my little one, how is dinner progressing?"

"I can serve it whenever you're ready, my lord. Where shall we dine?"

The wolf rose, and Kevin followed suit. "Why not at the kitchen table? It will fit the three of us most comfortably, and informality is well called for this evening."

"I'll make preparations right away."

* * * * * * * * * *

Still feeling overwhelmed, Kevin did his best to keep up with the conversation as well as to take cues from the Baron regarding what to do while dining. Simply sitting at the table was unknown in his slave's life; he surprised himself by remembering how to hold a fork. He was further surprised when, after setting the places and bringing the food to the table, Fannar sat down with them - not leashed to a wall or chair to one side of the Master, like a pet, but at his own place at the table. During the meal, if the Baron requested something, Fannar got up to fetch it, but that seemed to be the only example of subservience. Perhaps even more surprising was the Baron's use of "please" and "thank you," words that seemed inappropriate in Kevin's experience of Masters - his own, or the ones whom his Master had allowed to use him as their toy.

The Baron proved to be a most interesting and entertaining speaker, and although it took Kevin some time to realize it, he also had the ability to bring out conversation from his guest. The spaniel hadn't been asked for an opinion or a comment for more than two years, yet the great black wolf was able to give the pup room to speak about his past, before the indenturement. The food certainly aided the process - not only delicious, but plentiful and filling. Kevin found himself nearly weeping over the flavors, trying to find a proper way to express his enjoyment short of creating a small hurricane from the wagging of his tail. Incredibly, the Baron gave the conversation over to the young squire to talk about the meal and its preparation. Kevin wasn't sure what to make of that. It was as if Fannar were not a slave but a person.

By the time the meal had wound down, Kevin discovered that he had relaxed considerably. (No doubt, his comfortably full belly - something else new to him after all this time - had something to do with it.) He even seemed to have been able to make Fannar laugh and the Baron chuckle, the latter he had guessed to be no mean feat. Perhaps it was this that emboldened him enough to say at last, "My lord, I thank you for a wonderful meal. And..." He turned to the white wolf. "Fannar, I thank you also; you are a magnificent chef."

"Thank you for saying so." The little wolf actually blushed a bit. "If you and your guest would like to retire to the living room again, my lord, I can see to the dishes."

"Thank you, Fannar. Please join us when you are done."

All three rose from the table, the Baron gesturing for Kevin to precede him. The spaniel moved with more confidence, still working to be on his best behavior yet feeling that, perhaps, that would be enough. He stood next to the chair briefly as the Baron settled himself into his own chair, then sat and waited for the wolf to begin the conversation.

"Well now, Mr. Pembroke. If you'll forgive me jumping four-pawed into the topic, I'd like to discuss your current situation. You are released from your previous contract. I take it that there was no... shall we say, severance pay?"

"No, my lord, there was not." The pup tried to smile at the joke, but the truth cut too closely. "My shoulder... it happened that night. I'm still not quite sure how, whether it was something I did, or..."

"It is my belief that the restraints were not properly applied," the wolf said softly. "You were not well-treated, before, during, or after." After a pause, he asked, "Would you tell me what the punishment was for?"

"I displeased a guest," the pup said simply. "I was given to... a certain person for the night. I tried to do everything that I was asked. He... I choked on him. I truly thought that he was trying to kill me. I'd heard... stories of such things."

"Was there no Safe Word or gesture?"

"I used both - the word, when I was allowed to breathe. I used it several times. My arms were bound, but not my legs. I fought and ran from the room. One of the other two slaves of the household found me, took me into his room. He spoke to the Master, as did I. The... person claimed that I didn't use any Safe Word, no indication of actual hurt or danger, that I had refused him and injured him. I suppose that my Master found his words more true than mine. I was locked in my room for two days without food or water, then taken to the club. Where you found me."

The great black wolf was silent for several long moments, breathing evenly. "Mr. Pembroke," he asked, his voice soft yet steely, "why did you defend your Master's actions?"

Kevin slumped forward in his chair, hugging his middle, his ears down and forward as he hung his head. "I thought that was what I was supposed to do. A good slave is loyal to his Master. I gave up myself in order to come here, to be kept, to obey and perform as I was told. After three years, I was supposed to have a choice. I was told that I'd be schooled, and taken care of, and given a chance. So I thought that I was supposed to..."

Slowly, the wolf nodded. "Such contracts do exist; they are supposed to be executable under the law, but they are more often merely paper. I have known some few Masters who have used such papers honorably." Some time passed as the Baron merely breathed. "You have obeyed the slave's instruction to be discreet; even after all this, you have not named the guest, nor your Master. Mr. Pembroke, what has happened to you is criminal, even under the loose laws of these feudal outer worlds; worse, it casts ill light on all honorable Masters. Such people can be dealt with, through the law... or otherwise."

"No." Kevin shook his head firmly. "It's over. Keep it that way."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes. My lord." Slowly, he looked up. "He's stolen enough from me."

A warm, wide smile spread across the great black wolf's muzzle. "You are finding yourself again, Mr. Pembroke. You are far less broken than you have believed yourself to be. It is that young spaniel that I hoped to meet - the one who thought that he was to better himself, not to lose himself." He cocked his head to one side. "What if I were to tell you that there are those who offer apprenticeships rather than indenturing young males? A genuine training arrangement, with nothing whatever to do with sex or ownership. Such things were part of the past, abandoned over the years for some reason, but some few new entrepreneurs have seen its value and are using it again. Would such a thing interest you?"

The spaniel felt dumbstruck once more, but instead of fear it was in wonderment. "For you, my lord?"

"Not for myself. I have friends among the business owners here, and one of them may have something to offer. There might be physical labor involved; if so, I can assure you that you would be allowed to heal properly before putting any strain on your shoulder. These are honorable people that I speak of; they would not--"

An explosion and a shrieking howl came from the kitchen, followed by the sound of shattering china. The Baron bounded from his chair even before Kevin could react. When the spaniel reached the kitchen, he tried to piece together what was happening - shards of china on the floor and in the sink, steam billowing from a faucet, the white wolf holding one paw by the wrist, still shouting...

"My Master, I'm so sorry," Fannar cried, "the plate, I'm so sorry--"

The great black wolf held a bowl to the refrigerator's ice-making dispenser, filling it with ice as quickly as possible. He moved back to his squire, took the right paw and pushed it into the ice, covering it as carefully as he could while the little wolf whimpered and whined through clenched teeth, still trying to apologize. The Baron then crouched and reached under the sink to shut off the water; Kevin realized suddenly that the 85° tap had been running full-force. It appeared as if the controlling knob had been blown off as if by tremendous pressure. The black wolf rose, turning to the spaniel. "He has been scalded. I need to get the medical kit; please, stay with him. Keep his paw in the ice."

Kevin stepped up and put his arms around Fannar, holding the little wolf's head against his shoulder, trying to murmur comfort and kind words to him. He glanced at the paw in the ice and felt his stomach lurch; some of the fur had been removed from the back of paw, and the skin beneath it was a painful, angry red. Fannar stood shaking in the spaniel's arms, still whining softly.

Seconds later, the great black wolf came back into the kitchen, setting the medical kit down on the kitchen island. He opened it quickly, did a swift inventory, then came back to his squire, putting a paw delicately on his head. "Fannar," he said softly, "can you hear me?" The little wolf nodded sharply. "You have been scalded, and it must hurt horribly, but the skin is not broken, there are no blisters. The ice will help to numb the skin. Does it feel any better yet?"

"I'm fine, my Master," the little wolf whimpered.

The Baron's muzzle showed a tiny smile. "Never lie to your Master, little one." The Baron's soft admonition came with a gentle kiss on the little wolf's muzzle. He turned to the bag, fetching a small bottle of purplish liquid. "Mr. Pembroke, would you get one of those glasses? Yes, just hold it there." He poured a small measure of the liquid into the glass. "Fannar, can you hold that glass in your left paw? Drink it down, very good... it is liquid acetaminophen, it will help ease the pain when it gets into your system."

Kevin took the drained glass from Fannar and put it back near the sink. He could still feel the heat rising from the water remaining in the sink itself, and he really didn't want to test how little it might have cooled just yet.

The great black wolf pressed himself against his slave, holding him closely, still keeping Fannar's paw in the bowl of ice. "When the pain has diminished sufficiently, we can dress the burn. There is a new unguent that will sooth and protect your skin, help heal it quickly, and it will also help to keep the pain away. How does it feel now?"

"I'm... I think it's getting better, my Master." The little wolf was recovering from the shock, his breathing slowing. His eyes still showed a sense of misery, his ears down and back against his head as if in shame.

Kevin spoke up. "My lord, what can I do to help? Do we need to contact the doctors?"

"Thankfully, I do not think so, Mr. Pembroke; if it had blistered him, or worse, we would be on our way at once. If you would be so kind, please take out the packages of gauze, a length of bandage, and the green bottle marked 'For Burn Wounds.' Have you ever bandaged such a wound?"

"No, I haven't..."

"I will do it." The Baron carefully removed Fannar's paw from the bowl and brought him to the center island. "Let us be quick. Fannar, this may sting more before the anesthetic takes effect."

"Fannar, take my paw," Kevin said, wrapping both of his own around the white wolf's uninjured paw. "If it hurts, just squeeze tight, okay? As hard as you need to, just squeeze..."

Kevin almost regretted his offer; the little wolf had an amazing grip, and apparently, he needed it. The Baron was quick yet careful, applying the gel, the gauze, wrapping the bandage around the wounded paw loosely but completely. The gel seemed to have its effect, as Fannar released his tight grip on Kevin's paw, regaining his composure slowly. The Baron finished the bandaging and took Fannar into his powerful embrace. Kevin watched, a little embarrassed at seeing so much affection, and still not entirely able to reconcile it with his experiences.

Slowly, the great black wolf separated himself from his slave, tipped Fannar's muzzle upward to look him in the eye. "I will take care of this. Go with Mr. Pembroke and sit in the living room. Rest. I will join you in a moment. If you need anything, I am sure he will help."

"Of course, my lord," Kevin said without hesitation. The little white wolf moved reluctantly away to let his Master do what needed to be done and accepted the spaniel's steadying help.

Kevin sat next to Fannar on the sofa, still holding his uninjured paw gently in his own. From the kitchen, he could hear the sounds of the china being swept up and the kitchen being put to rights. "I don't know if I should say so, Fannar, but I think you have the finest Master in the universe."

"I believe so," the little wolf said, trying to smile.

"How are you feeling now?"

"I think the wound is doing better." He paused. "I broke the plate."

"I'm sure it'll be all right. He said not to worry about it, and I'm sure he means that."

"Of course. My Master always speaks the truth. It's just..." He looked into Kevin's eyes. "I just think I could have done better."

Kevin didn't know what to say and let silence speak for him. He sat with Fannar for a few minutes longer, gently holding his paw, until the Baron returned. "All taken care of," he said simply. He smiled at Kevin. "Thank you, Mr. Pembroke, for your help. You continue to prove me right." He sat down in his great chair, extending a paw to Fannar, who rose and moved to sit upon the hassock to the Baron's side. With one huge black paw upon Fannar's shoulder, the Baron again regarded the spaniel.

"We were speaking of apprenticeships, Mr. Pembroke. I do not have one available; however, I do know several people who might need some help. If you are amenable, I can contact one or more in the morning and arrange an interview. Would that be agreeable?"

"More than just agreeable, my lord!" Kevin said with some surprise. "I am very grateful to you."

"I cannot promise an easy job, but I can assure you of a fair employer. You will also need living accommodation, will you not?"

"I have none at this time, no. Will that be a problem?"

"Not an insoluble one, Mr. Pembroke. I'm sure that..." The Baron looked to his young squire, who had shifted under his paw. "Fannar? Are you still in pain?"

"Master, I have let you down." His eyes still downcast, ears back against his head, the little white wolf seemed beyond consoling. "I broke your plate."

The Baron's voice, gentle and firm, came quietly. "There was no fault, little one. Let it go now."

"I could have held on better," Fannar whimpered softly. "I could have set the plate down gently... It was only hot water. I have let you down."

The great black wolf looked up at Kevin, his eyes conveying nothing that Kevin could understand clearly, save for a request for silence. Gravely, the Baron spoke to the pup in a low tone. "Fannar, bring to me the belt from my black tunic."

The squire bounded from his place on the hassock and ran down the hall. The Baron stood. "Mr. Pembroke, I request that you wait in the kitchen for a few moments." Kevin sat frozen to the spot, his maw slightly agape. "Now, please, Mr. Pembroke."

The spaniel rose as quickly as he could, moving into the kitchen as Fannar returned to his Master with a wide, thick leather strap. Not meaning to look, Kevin nevertheless saw the little white wolf kneel before his Master and present the strap ceremoniously. Arriving at the center island in the kitchen, Kevin stopped, his back to the living room, trying very hard not to hear anything. Murmured voices at first, a shuffling. A sharp crack rent the air; a pause seeming far too long, and another sharp report. Another pause, a third bright crack. Kevin put his paws to his flattened ears, trying to drown out the noise. A fourth attack, with a short whimper of pain to accompany it. Kevin held his breath, hoping that he wouldn't echo the cry. A fifth, with a loud, high-pitched bark. The pause stretched, thickened in the air, until at last the spaniel risked moving his paws. He could hear a deep whisper, words that he could not catch...

"Please come in, Mr. Pembroke."

The spaniel hesitated, then made himself enter the living room again. Fannar stood near his Master, the remnants of tears in his eyes, but a smile on his muzzle. "Go to our room, little one, and wait for me. Please do not turn down the bedclothes; I do not want to risk doing any damage to your paw. It will be my turn to be the butler." The Baron smiled tenderly. "Shall you sleep with me tonight, Fannar?"

"I am honored, my Master."

"Say goodnight to our guest."

"Shall he be staying tonight, my Master?"

Kevin looked to the Baron with barely concealed fury in his eyes. The Baron turned back to Fannar. "I will see to his needs tonight, little one. Off to bed."

Fannar turned to Kevin, extending his uninjured paw. "Good night, sir," he said smiling. "I hope to see you soon - perhaps in the morning. It would be my pleasure to cook breakfast for you."

Kevin shook the paw gently as Fannar bowed. "Thank you," he said, unable to keep some frost from his voice as he glanced at the Baron. Fannar turned from them both and trotted back down the hall.

The great black wolf sank slowly into his chair, his face set neutrally, his eyes upon his guest. Kevin turned to face the Baron, unknowing how he could dare set free his rage.

"You lied!" he hissed. "You are no better than the rest of those thugs! Fannar did nothing that demanded punishment. It was an accident!"

"Yes," the Baron said softly. "It was an accident. You and I know that. In his heart, Fannar knows that. Yet it was he who requested the punishment."

"Requested?!"

"What did you see, Mr. Pembroke?"

"I saw nothing," the spaniel spat angrily. "I _heard_you give five hard strokes to Fannar, I _heard_his pain on the last two. I heard you hurt him, unnecessarily."

"And when you came back in here," the wolf asked, "what did you see?"

Kevin paused. "I saw Fannar smiling, as he was ordered to do."

"I made no order to him. He was not smiling because he was ordered to." The Baron leaned forward. "Mr. Pembroke, you have known Fannar for less than a day, but as I have already said, you are quite perceptive for a pup. Look into that little wolf's heart and tell me what you see."

"Devotion," Kevin said immediately. "He loves you more than his own life. Our every conversation, he spoke of what a good Master you are. He would do anything for you, no matter how impossible."

"You are nearer the truth than you know. What was it that was impossible - or at least improbable?"

The spaniel shook, partly from his anger, partly from fear, saying nothing.

"Let me say it this way," the Baron said softly. "What if it were you, suddenly and unexpectedly scalded? Would you have dropped the plate?"

"Anyone would have!"

"Correct. Anyone who was scalded would have dropped the plate." The wolf paused. "And Fannar would do even the impossible for me."

I could have held on better.

The little wolf's words echoed in Kevin's mind as understanding began to dawn. "He thought... because he couldn't do the impossible, he felt that he had let you down."

The Baron nodded once. "The strokes that I gave him were not out of anger. Punishment given in anger is base cruelty; generally speaking, punishment of any kind, by a Master to his slave, is a wanton abuse of power. I was not angry, nor was this truly a punishment--not as you are thinking of the word. It was..." The great black wolf raised his eyebrows slightly, coaxing the answer from his guest.

"...forgiveness?" Kevin felt that the answer couldn't possibly be right, but the small smile on the Baron's lips said otherwise. "A ritual. The way he brought the belt to you. You gave him a way to feel that he has atoned for whatever wrongdoing he thought he had done to you." He considered another thought that seemed out of place in his experience. "You didn't... enjoy spanking him, did you?"

"Again, not in the sense that you mean." The great black wolf looked down for a moment, considering. "Mr. Pembroke, you previously have borne witness to a terrible dark side of a Master/slave relationship - a Master who relishes his power more than he cares for his slave. I do not gain pleasure from punishing Fannar. There have been only two occasions, early in our relationship, when I punished him in the more conventional sense of the word; we both learned from those occasions, and I have never - and will never - 'punish' him again. What you have seen tonight is only the third of its kind in our long years together, and it was not performed for any sort of pleasure or fulfillment of perceived power. If there is pleasure in the act, it is pleasure in the result--Fannar is free to let this incident fade from his mind. He is whole again, without feeling that something 'should have been'. The pleasure comes from knowing that my slave is happy."

The spaniel looked closely at the Baron. "That's important to you."

"It is everything to me. I will say something that might shock you: I love Fannar. I did not buy him like an item of furniture, nor did he give up his life to become a mindless plaything. A Master cannot take anything that a slave cannot give; that would be abduction, slavery, rape. A slave must give himself, and what a proper Master knows is that a slave always has the power to take himself back. Even the most abused slave could revolt, ultimately. It is why a Master must never abuse the privilege of owning the most magnificent gift that anyone could receive.

"By the same token, a slave cannot give what he does not possess, which explains why I chose to accept Fannar's gift. He is kind, sensitive, intelligent, curious, passionate, devoted... the list of his admirable qualities goes on. He sometimes thinks that he could not do what I do with investments and accounting, as if he were incapable of understanding. The simple truth is that I have a knack he may not now possess, but he is far from being unable to understand. He takes care of our household accounts, keeps the larder, deals with taxes and duties of our real estate, oversees repairs and maintenance, cooks, cleans, makes my life perfect in ways great and small. He never stops bettering himself. Did you know that he writes poetry?" The wolf smiled softly. "I encouraged him to follow his passion of literature, to take classes at university. His study of the classics has led me to learn as well. I ask him each day of his experiences, and often I request that he find something special to read to me before bed. With his loving voice, he has brought to life great classics of literature that I never before had the time nor the wisdom to learn from and enjoy. Some of what I am - perhaps more than even I will admit - is because of Fannar's growth and his sharing of that with me."

Kevin felt himself on the verge of tears. "I sold myself for so little."

"You gave up yourself, when what you wanted was to give of yourself. You fell victim to a cruel and brutal being who does not deserve to be called Master." The Baron's voice grew quiet, hard. "I would ask you never to tell me who he is, Mr. Pembroke. I take exception to such people. Severe exception."

The spaniel could not stop the shudder that coursed through his body. The ice gray eyes had become harder than diamond, and Kevin felt himself shake where he stood. The rage that he saw was not directed at him, but he could sense it just below the surface of the great black wolf who sat before him. If the pup would but speak a name, whisper the syllables that stood for the worthless excuse for a being who had done this to him... Kevin was certain that not a trace of that person would remain, anywhere, in any form. Not a body, not an estate, not even a memory.

Breathing shallowly, his body still shaking, Kevin forced himself to speak. "My lord... I will never again speak that name, even when I am alone. I will not give it power over me ever again."

Slowly, the Baron's eyes softened. He nodded once. "Kevin Allen Pembroke... you are free."

Kevin collapsed, weeping uncontrollably. His knees digging deeply into the thick carpeting of the Baron's living room floor, he put both paws over his eyes and cried as he hadn't done since he was a whelp. So deep in the release of his pain, he was at first unaware of the great black wolf having moved to sit next to him on the floor. A split second of doubt when he felt the huge paw on his shoulder, then he turned and threw his arms around the Baron's middle, felt himself warmly embraced, understood, accepted, allowed. He was given, and took, several minutes of this silent comfort. Slowly, he pulled back and looked into the Baron's soft gray eyes.

"My lord," he said, sniffing, "may I say that Fannar is the most fortunate slave that I've ever met?"

The Baron smiled warmly. "You may. And I thank you." The great black wolf hugged the spaniel closely once more. "We should see about getting you to bed. You'll need your rest if you are to start a new life."

They stood. Kevin, his muzzle still damp with tears, barked a small laugh. In answer to the Baron's questioning look, he said, "Something I read in a book, a long time ago. About asking a boon of a titled person." Grinning, he turned and fell to one knee in front of the Baron, his arms spread wide. "My lord, I humbly beseech a boon!"

Folding his arms in mock annoyance, a smirk upon his muzzle, the Baron intoned, "Well...?"

"I cannot be your slave, my lord, nor can I be your equal. I feel that I have much to learn. May I hope, however, that I may visit with you again?" The grin softening into a wan smile, he added, "It would mean very much to me."

The great black wolf unfolded his arms, took the spaniel's paws into his own and helped him to stand. "It would sadden me greatly if you did not return. Your boon is granted."

His huge paw upon the pup's shoulder, the Baron led him back to the guest room and bade him a good night. "As you drift off to sleep," the wolf said softly, "think gently on one thing: There are always choices... Kevin."

The Baron planted a chaste kiss on the top of the spaniel's head and left.

In his room, Kevin undressed slowly and again slipped between the cool sheets of the supremely comfortable bed. A few more tears fell down his furry cheeks, but they held no pain.

Choices.

Although Kevin was well and truly ready to sleep, it was no longer because it was sanctuary from the events of the day, but because he had tomorrow to look forward to. That, he thought, was the essence of choice. He had made bad choices, which by their nature carried their own punishment. All that was in the past now. He had new choices to make, and that was what it meant to be free.

Or to be in the paws of a good Master.

As he drifted off to sleep, Kevin felt sure that he would know a good Master when he found one.

"It is the weak who are cruel; the strong can afford to be gentle." --Leo Buscaglia