Fairy Tale Ending

Jet glared at his reflection, an image of a husky with human features, who mimicked his scowl and glared back at him with the same contempt. The visage growled as he narrowed his eyes angrily, sharing his anger. Secretly Jet had always wished that the image would change, become something different - mange ridden, scarred, something ugly, and undesirable. The husky sighed softly, acquiescing to the cruel cards fate had dealt him, and adjusted his uniform. It was not much of a uniform: a half leather vest that hugged his chest tightly, a pair of tight shorts that left nothing to the modest eye, and a collar with a green tag. Little less than a month ago his black tag had been changed to green, skipping the red and yellow tags. He went from untouchable - straight to the sales floor. Ever since he was little all he knew was being a slave and a highly sought after one at that. He looked back at his reflection with a sigh, who would not want to buy him? The figure in the mirror was thin with lean muscle defining his body, barely over five foot tall, non-threatening in all respects. All in all, a typical husky dog appearance, only off-set by one green eye and one blue, though his anthropomorphic nature was obvious. Short blond hair grew from the top of his head, but was so light it bordered being white, which blended into the rest of the fur on his head. The husky brushed his bangs away from his face and looked over his silky fur, brushing a clawed paw over his muzzle and looked at the black patch of fur on the bridge of his muzzle - distinctively shaped like a plane's silhouette casting a shadow on the ground. It was shaped just like his namesake, the stage name Jet, the name he had taken so long ago. He had been a slave so long that he no longer even knew if he ever had a different name. Jet was just what his friends called him. He had been here for ten years now, and since that time he had grown into a handsome young man. Or rather, forcibly molded into one from strict diets and regiments. As a reward his current owner, Lady Minerva, announced two years ago he was now for sale. It had broken her record, the youngest slave she ever put up for sale. It was really just one of her money making ploys to bring more people in to bid an impossible price. However, those that couldn't buy usually rented, and Jet was simply a pawn in Minerva’s game for her own personal enjoyment, not to mention monetary gain. How many had bid outrageous prices to have the youngest actor, singer, the most prized slave in the territory as a waiter and be within arms reach? All that just because he was one of the most attractive looking items on the market here. Jet scowled back at the Adonis in the mirror. He hated the face snarling back, and hated himself. If anyone resented him for the attention he got, it paled in comparison to Jet's resentment for himself.

"Jet, why the pissed-off look," came a questioning voice from the doorway into the dorm room.

"Oh hey Scout. Just rehearsing for my part tonight." Jet didn’t bother to look away from the mirror as he spat out the first lie that came to mind, a daily act he had perfected with his acting career so that no one would question his actions.

"Come on bro, I figured you of all people would know your parts backwards and forwards by now!"

Jet had to turn away from the mirror with a fake smile as he looked to the doorway quickly. Standing there was a white-furred rabbit with a blond mop of hair and deep green eyes, wearing same uniform, but with a yellow tag, smiling back at him. Scout was one of his two best friends inside the "True Rulers Club." The two had been grouped together as cubs, and became fast friends, as well as the only family they had ever really known. Scout was fast on his feet, easily the most agile of them. The rabbit had grown worried about his looks as of late and did his best to look as handsome as possible. Jet knew it was out of fear more than anything. Humans were fickle and stylish, the Lapin were not in style, and it was only a matter of time before his bids would drop and Scout's threat of being sold would be come a nasty reality.

They walked out to meet the third of their trio and gave a smile to a German Shepherd, wearing the same uniform with a black tag on his collar, as they approached the stage. He stood there at the entrance to the stage pacing back and forth. "Where have you been Jet? Our shift is about to start and you know how Old Steelface gets if we're late!"

"Toby, I'm sorry. I'm behind, I guess I'm out of it," replied Jet. Toby was like their big brother, the oldest of their ragtag family, but whereas Jet and Scout had been worked to accent their small frames and cute boyish looks, Toby was a well muscled and toned man. The Shepherd’s well muscled frame carried the defined aspects of his breed as he easily towered a foot over Jet. He kept his brown hair cut short making him more canine looking than human, his brown eyes blending well with his fur and canine features. He could as easily play the part of a puppy as well as the guard dog. The duality of his appearance always pulled one part of the crowd or the other, something Toby took no small amount of pride in. He loved the attention and loved showing off his body. With a good voice and a decent acting skill, he was one of the few slaves in the place sought after as much as Jet.

The trio continued on talking about their act to be played as they made their way backstage. The stage show that Minerva held each night was little more than a meat market, the slaves would report to their shift and perform some routine every night. Usually performances consisted of anything you could find at any club or bar with a stage. Afterward, the slaves would line up along the edge of the stage at set points and stood under boards labeled with a number. And an announcer would auction them off to be waiters or waitresses to the highest bidder. The patrons would bid as much as they could to beat their competitors. For many, this was a cheap thrill, to others a chance to get a closer look at someone they might want to buy. After the bids were complete, a second shift would come on stage to play music or perform some play, typically to no applause nor even a glance. Most of the patrons now had their attention on their waiters and waitresses, and some had to be escorted out by the bouncers due to over-inebriation, or simply because it was more than the menu they were interested in and would not take no for an answer.

Jet stood among his family anxiously awaiting their shift and curtain call. He longed to do real plays - something from the old movies or from the old Shakespeare books he had found. However, Minerva had put a stop to that by saying the patrons would not want "stuffy old dead man dribble they wouldn't understand" and instead wanted something more exotic, which for Minerva meant strip teases and borderline soft pornography. Minerva always had a way to corrupt any dreams Jet came up with, yet he did his best to make the acts as good as he could for his family, especially Scout who depended on the shows to keep his price high. Tonight however, they had been forced to settle on a staged song about a man that catches his wife cheating on him. Since they were a trio of males, Scout was the unfortunate soul forced to play the role of the cheating wife. The song by far was not the the best for the gathered audience to hear, considering most of them looked like the types that had, or were cheating on there spouses, or significant others. Most would be right in assuming that many were not here for the music. The trio tried to laugh and kid around, attempting to relieve their stress as they awaited their nightly fate, their brief escape from the seriousness of the night was the only time they had for a feeling of freedom. They were teasing Scout about how girly he was and just how fitting it was, everyone having a chance to relax and laugh, letting them forget for a moment the hell they were forced to call home. Like all dream worlds, it came to an abrupt end all too soon when a middle-aged man approached. He wore a sunken, unchanging face that looked so pale it looked as if he had been drained of blood, he seemed incapable of making any expression other than a cold scowl hence his nickname, "Old Steelface," which served him well. His body was rail-thin; his hands carried long, thin, cruel, claw-like fingers, and while well groomed, he showed heavy varicose veins. He was cold and cruel and, as far as anyone knew, devoid of any emotion other than what he showed and even less in what he would give.

"Ok! Line up you little sluts, you know the rules: do your thing, don't pussy out, finish your acts, get off stage, and then wait for line up. Make them hungry and you'll get fed tonight, make 'em sick and you'll be missing dinner, make 'em mad and you'll get the box!" shouted Steelface, his voice demanding and powerful despite a figure that looked as if it could barley hold a breath of air. The director looked over a clipboard of the night's acts, slowly gazing over the pages as if he was proofreading a manuscript, looking up occasionally to make sure everyone was ready. After an uncomfortable silence, he finally looks over to Jet and his family, "change of plans for you three, husky and Shepherd are trading places. I know you know the parts."

Jets eyes shot open, as if struck by an arrow in his gut. He barked out to the director as he lifted his head, his heart racing from the sudden shift of parts. "What? Why? I'm a better singer than Toby! Why do we need to trade places?" Jet knew before he even finished talking that he was out of place but still wanted to know why he was being shifted into a role he did not like to begin with, not to mention Toby had not even practiced the song as much as he nor Scout. The idea that even the most mediocre act he had put together was again subjected to twisted changes made his blood boil.

"Well for starters you -are- a slut, what did you think you're being sold as? Second, Shepherd fits the part. And third, cause Minerva says so. You know better than to question a order. You'll be seeing Minerva after your shift and we'll see if your tongue can remember where it belongs after a few days in the box - get back in line you little cock sucker."

Jet lowered his head obediently and glanced at his feet, once again Minerva had meddled with his act, the arrow in his gut finding his heart as a pang of fear and panic raced into his throat, just like so many times before he had been in trouble for stepping out of line. His heart sank in his chest, leaving a pit which he suddenly wish he could fall into and just be forgotten. "Yes sir, if I may ask, could you at least ask for the guards to keep a little closer? I -" Jet struggled for some lee-way to push his hand for anything to go right, scrounging what few tattered shreds of bravery he had left to speak up again. "Last time a patron put me in the infirmary, I think Minerva would prefer it didn’t happen again?"

"You're pushing your luck, mutt, but I'll think about it. Now Get in place!"

Scout waited until Steelface turned away to berate the other groups and craned his head closer to his brother to whisper into Jets ear. "You never told me what happened?" Jet whispered back trying to be quiet as possible while the director went on telling the other slaves their changes and making sure they knew their cues.

"This human came in and was really mad - he ordered a bottle of whiskey and started to complain how his old woman was cheating on him with his sister. Then he said he'd get back at her and I was going to help him do it. When I refused, he tried to grab me but caught my wrist and slammed me into the wall. The bouncers got him but he twisted my arm bad, that’s why I was in the infirmary last week." Jet spoke calmly, keeping his voice low, trying not to look up, and did not notice Steelface walking back over to them.

"Enough noise you two, shut up and get ready. I hear you again I'll have ya thrown in the box myself!" The director's threats were always promises, they quickly stood straight and kept quiet waiting for their cue.

They took their positions. Jet and his friend Scout would be sitting on their haunches in a bed while a lamp from behind would project their silhouettes on a curtain resembling a makeshift doorway. They were to pretend to be making out while Toby performed the song, and Jet and Scout would act in mock terror as he eventually ripped the curtain away and punch the adulterer making out with his wife. Of course it was all fake, Jet would never be hit, he would just turn away quickly before he would be hit. Toby, of course, loved the change, not so much because he was built for the part, but because he loved the attention. He did not care what kind - the more he got the more he loved it. Jet had to admit that even though he hated the part he had, the act would always get the audience going. After all, he and his family were the shinning gem of the club. If their prices were not so high their trio would have been ripped apart ages ago, and then as they came of age, sold off to who knows who. Jet knew Toby was already on borrowed time, as was he and Scout, since if anyone ever purchased him, Scout would be alone and bullied until the day he was sold.

Jet could hear their names being announced, with cheers erupting even before the curtain rose. Toby puffed out his chest happily, Scout took deep breaths trying to calm himself down, and Jet just sat there waiting for the curtain to rise fully while cursing the patrons in his head. All he could do was wish for something to fall from above to end his misery, and spare him the humiliation he had suffered for so long. Finally the curtain rose, and Jet nodded softly to Scout as he started their part of the act. How much of an act it was, who knew? He loved his family - being able to be this close, being able to be close to anyone was one the few perks of his rank and of his family's value to Minerva. Slaves were not allowed to mingle in such ways here, if it were not for Jet's skills on stage and firm understanding with Minerva, the trio would be beaten alive for even shaking hands. Toby stood on stage singing, yet Jet could not help but feel jealous as he heard Toby sing - he was a good singer but he had not really rehearsed the part. Every off-note and wrong word made Jet wince, expecting some patron to throw something or yell out a boo or hiss. Jet kept reaching out and caressing Scout's soft fur, doing his best to make a good show of their shadows on the curtain - from the sound of the crowd, it was working. Too soon, the last part came as he saw Toby rip away the curtain, singing about how he had caught his wife cheating on him. As Jet looked up to meet Toby's face, feigning mock horror, he glanced out into the audience. Their leering faces, some angered about the shadow play being over and revealing less than they had hoped for, others cheering on Toby to beat Jet, along with dozens of other lurid descriptions as the patrons tried to direct. But tonight something seemed off as he glanced beyond Toby into the crowd, cursing them again in his head, into the vulgar leers and shouts. It was as if time stood still, allowing him to see everything. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a calm in the storm. It was another canine. A German Shepherd like Toby but apart form the crowd, disconnected as if a splash of color had been thrown on a black canvas. He wore a monocle on one his left eye, combed back black hair matching his black suit. The canine stood there as if totally alone, not even aware of the crowd, and most surprisingly he was looking right at Jet, matching his gaze. Jet felt his heart stop as the canine just looked at him like he was looking at a painting in a museum - then the canine simply nodded. Jet wanted to see this canine - why had he nodded at him? Why was he so different compared to everyone else? Jet tried to turn his head to see better, to see this person that had so grabbed his attention. He had to see him, why was he so different from all the patrons he had ever seen? Why was there even a fur in the club? So caught up in his thoughts and curiosity, he forgot that time does not stand still for anyone and had begun to flow again leaving Jet none the wiser.

***Smack!***

Jet had missed his cue and worst of all turned his head right into Toby's fist resulting in a very real and painful punch right to his muzzle. Jet was spun around, feeling burning pain shoot through his muzzle and nose as a warm trickle of blood flowed onto his lip. The crowd went wild, cheering Toby on, shouting for him to do more. Toby winced hard and started to step towards Jet but stopped himself and carried on, his eyes going wide at what had just happened, but he knew the rules, and he had to go on. Scout sprang to Jet and comforted him as Jet just laid on the makeshift bed, stunned from the pain searing through his muzzle yet overwhelmed with curiosity of the image the canine in the crowd had left in his head. Scout resumed playing his role, which was the best acting he had done, because it was not an act. Panic was on the rabbit's face as he checked over Jet and tried to comfort him. Finally the act was over and the curtain began to drop. Toby rushed over to Jet as fast as he could, his eyes revealing his worry - the once tough Shepherd quickly melting away into a scared pup.

"Oh shit, Jet! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! Are you OK? I'm so sorry! What happened?" panic was running wild in his voice.

"Yeah, I’m OK it's alright really. It was my fault, there was this German Shepherd in the-"

"Enough chatter you little sluts, time for line up," the director shouted at the acts, apparently missing that Jet still had a bloody nose, his fur carried shades of red in the white fur of his muzzle, that or the director just did not care.

"Tell us in the kitchen," a hint of curiosity showed in Scout's whisper as they got up and took their spots.

The curtain started to rise again with some of the other slaves looking nervous, wondering if the bids were going to be high, still some glared over at Jet and his friends out of mixed hatred and envy, never realizing how much of the act was real. Jet and his friends always got the best bids, they never had to worry if it was their last night together; others lived in fear each night of it being their last on stage. Finally the curtain was up and a wave of whistles and shouts set Jet's stomach twisting into knots. Steelface stepped out from the curtains, walking to a podium that was pushed before him in the center of the stage. "All of our regulars know this part of our night. For all our new faces, the way this works is simple: each table has a paddle with your table number. I will start the auction by calling the number hanging over our merchandise. If the number is above the one you want, raise your paddle. Each time you raise it, you raise your bid, highest bidder wins the opportunity to inspect the merchandise as their servant for tonight’s dinner. Please keep in mind their collars and tags, not all of them are for sale...yet." Steelface shot a glance straight at Scout, an almost sadistic grin coming over his face. "SO SHALL WE GET STARTED!?" The house echoed with cheers, the volume louder than the sound system that was set up. It ended abruptly as a hammer came down onto a gavel at the podium, all the tables in the house became silent as the patrons now fixed their attention on the slaves as they listened to Steelface's voice. Hands quickly started raising their old auction paddles as the director took the role of auctioneer. Patrons looked up at the stage, listening for their tables and bids, raising their hands as their chance arose. Each trying to match the bids of some other patron, until finally the bids started to trickle down, the murmurs of profanities from losing slowly coming to a halt. One at a time he called stage numbers, one by one, and announced the slaves would leave their mark and walk out onto the catwalk, which split the room, then walk back to their starting point. Jet knew Minerva's sadistic mind had designed this as a last bit of humiliation - she milked the audience every night like this for every coin she could get. The mingling of parading her merchandise like livestock at a county fair mixed with a slave auction was the final touch of humiliation she could inflict before throwing her property to the dogs. For Minerva, it was all a win; she made just as much money from people paying to see the show and have a dinner while getting to see the goods, all the while not loosing a single piece of merchandise she was not ready to. She knew she had first pick, she knew she could ask insane prices for the best. As long as people paid to get in, the prices stayed and she put Jet highest cause he always brought the patrons back. His price was insanely high, more than anyone would be willing to pay for him as long as he was her show dog, she would milk his worth till he had none left then sell him off and replace him. As for Scout, this was his judgment day: he knew that if he did well and his bids were high, he would be here next week; if not, then tomorrow he believed he would be on the auction block. Scout trembled with fear and cried himself to sleep in fear each night. He strutted out on the catwalk trying to look the best he could, wiggling his tail, taking deliberate steps to flaunt his body and muscular shape off, letting an ear flop over his eye and look as cute as he could. "What say you ladies and gentlemen: young, agile, and he'll be for sale real soon! Bid up now for your chance to get a better look before we sell off one of our best!" Scout trembled, Steelface's words meant to hurt him as much as tease the audience. He could not hold back the tears from the sadistic grins glaring at him while he trembled as new waves of bids came in for him, only a few showing any remorse for his emotional plight. Scout took his mark as he walked back and clenched his eyes, too scared to look anywhere.

Toby was second to last, he strode out looking important and indifferent to his situation, he knew he had his looks, and he knew and trusted his "little brother's" work. Despite his bravado, his bids were still high as there were always those that liked the look of German Shepherds. Toby's smug look teased enough people into wanting him, if nothing else than to try and wipe the smug look off his face.

"And our best of show, ladies and gentlemen, the star attraction I know many of you have been waiting for! Jet!"

Jet strode out, walking as if just to walk, no show, no teases - he hated this part. He blocked out the hype, as Steelface spat at the audience, his ears hearing nothing but his own inner thoughts of hatred for everything in the room. He loathed the audience but he knew Minerva would not let him go so easily. As much he loved the attention, he hated this kind, Minerva making sure he never got an ounce of positive attention from anyone in the territory his entire life. He looked into the crowd and felt sick, all them looked at him with leering and obscene gestures. Some stared at him and he could almost feel them undressing what little protection his uniform provided with their eyes. He started to turn around, wishing he could shave his fur off and paint himself as ugly as he could, his eyes scanning over the room so he could mentally curse each and everyone. Jet caught a glimpse of the German Shepherd and turned his head back to try and get a better look. He was sitting in the back booth, his straight posture calm as ever while he sat there looking at him. The German Shepherd's booth was protected on either side by bouncers. Jet felt his blood turn to ice and he nearly froze mid-stride when the canine looked back at him, nodding to himself, before raising a paddle to give a bid. Jet was walking back to his place on stage, trying to see the figure out of the corner of his eye while he passed Scout and Toby, mumbling to them the table number where the canine was at. His foot paw barely reached the tape marker when he heard the director shout.

"Fourteen goes to table thirteen! Sorry ladies and gentlemen, you'll have to bid hard to beat that one! Better luck tomorrow night!"

Jet felt himself go rigid in shock and fear. Thirteen, that was where the strange German Shepherd was, and Jet was number fourteen. Scout and Toby looked over in shock at Jet and back out to the winning table - what could the Shepherd want with him? Panic seemed to be taking over as Jet walked down the stage steps and across the house floor towards the table. He could not help glancing at his bid. His eyes went wide, the bid was twice the bid of Scout and Toby put together! It was the highest bid he could remember seeing anyone pay simply for a waiter. Jet could not take his eyes away as he walked straight into a bouncer, who had his hands in his pockets starring at the same thing. Jet shuddered at the huge brutish man covered in tattoos with huge tree-trunk-like arms that seemed to exist for no other reason than to make everyone feel like a child’s play thing.

"Watch where you're going boy, get to your station; Minerva will skin you alive you if screw this up with the price the guest is paying."

Jet shook himself out of his daze and headed to the table, pain in his muzzle shooting back up as he realized his nose was still bleeding. Regardless, the bouncers words echoed the truth in his head as he picked up his pace to his assigned table, feeling as if we would drop dead if his heart pounded any harder.

"So what we hear is true, you are as cute up close a you are on stage," the Shepherd spoke calmly, almost matter-of-factually, as Jet approached.

Jet jerked his head up snapping out of the daze and remembered his position. "Uh-yes. I mean, if you say so. I mean, thank you Master. W-what would you like to order Master? The house special is best cuts of lamb or beef."

"Ah, well to be truthful, I have already eaten. I am, however, looking at a menu where there seems to be young husky as the house special. And you need not call me Master. Please have a seat."

Jet's head dropped a little as he heard the request. It was polite and was the first time he had ever been told to sit with a patron as well, but this stranger who stood out from all the rest - simply interested him. "I'm sorry Master, we are not supposed to sit with the patrons. Mistress Minerva, wishes all of us to call our patrons "Master" in the case they wish to purchase us." Jet shivered a little, realizing he was able to be purchased.

"I see. Still, I must insist. Have a seat next to me - your nose is bleeding and it should be tended to. Don't worry, I have an idea of what you expect and I'll keep my paws on the table where you can see them."

"Yes, Master, thank you." Jet slowly sat down, feeling wary and glancing around for a bouncer when he realized that the bouncers had walked away from the booth. The bouncer he had stumbled into earlier was still near the stage, Jet could see him pulling his hands out of his pockets and counting a rather large roll of money. Sudden panic soared threw his head like his name sake, and he quickly shot a panicked glance to his buyer.

"Yes, you are correct in your assumption - we did pay them off to leave us alone, Jet. You don't need to worry. You see, we wish to have a private conversation with you Jet and it's nicer when no one's looming over you listening," the German Shepherd was as calm as ever as if still separated from everything happening around him. Jet was too stunned to talk and felt petrified from fear of what was going to happen now that no one was there to bail him out. "We must start by apologizing for my...over appraising eyes of you earlier. Is your nose alright? You took a nasty dive on what I fear was on account of me I'm afraid." At this remark, the Shepherd pulled a white handkerchief from his coat pocket offering it to Jet after dabbing it into his water glass.

"Ye-yes Master, I'm...OK, I -" his brain stuttered. He couldn't move. the Shepherd's eyes looked back at him, his eyes a deep crystal blue with only the shine of the lights glinting off his monocled eye distracting from the deep gaze he gave. He was taken back, this patron had asked if he was OK. No one ever asked if he was OK except his friends. Jet dabbed the wet handkerchief over his nose wiping away the blood as the Shepherd spoke.

"I'm sorry for the distraction, we do hope your friends aren't too worried?"

"No Master, uh how did-" the Shepherd simply nodded and kept his sight on Jet, the monocle-covered-eye seeming to stay locked on him at all times.

"It's my job to notice things. I noticed your friends' acting seemed to take a rather drastic turn after the punch, and your Shepherd friend looked on the verge of tears. However, such details are, I suppose, moot at this point. Tonight our menu is you. Tell us, are you ready to see what is outside of this place besides this rather sorry rabble whose only interest in you is more than an autograph?"

Jet's mind gave up. He felt himself falling into sudden awe and fear, others had talked about being outside of the club before, "I, I go where my, Master, whoever it is, decides I should be if one ever buys me. Until then I am not allowed past these walls." Jet's head tilted, looking to the Shepherd trying to dissect all that had just happened in such a short amount of time, trying to grasp at the one direction the conversation begged to be tugged in, he had to ask. "If I may ask, Master, why do you say 'our', and 'we?'" The Shepherd, seemingly unfazed by the question, was expecting it.

"Someone has caught wind of you and I am here acting as his eyes and ears. My employer has a rather deep interest in you, Jet. That, however, will come into detail later. For now, the questions are for you. We wish to know about you, and see if those interests are misplaced and if you are worth the price tag your current owner, Minerva, is asking. What's your name?"

Jet was confused - his potential buyer was not even here, yet he sent someone to do the work? Why would the potential buyer be interested in him in him if he had never seen Jet himself? "M-me? I, well, umm, don't know my name Sir, " Jet's eyes fell to the white table cloth, his paw still holding the handkerchief to his muzzle as he looked away, his ears drooping, wilting like wet pasta against his head, too ashamed to say he did not know who he was. "Everyone just calls me Jet." The Shepherd looked Jet over as he looked down, his gaze faltering as he felt the same dismay as the husky did, noticing the sadness of the boyish face and muzzle - he spoke a little quieter with a small pang of sadness in his voice.

"I see... still, 'Jet' fits you. I'm Justin. You may call me by my name. I'm no ones Master. How long have you been here Jet?"

"Ten maybe eleven years, Master. Er, I mean, Justin, since I was five or six, I’m sorry I don’t know how long exactly, there’s no real way to tell time here except for the show."

"Before that?"

"I don't really remember, some slaver kept me for for his son's pet, I was one of his toys until he lost interest," Jets eyes closed and his ears had seemed to loose the will to stand up and he wished they could not hear the questions as he gave his sad past away more freely than he ever wished.

"I see. Do you know anything before that by chance?" Justin's voice was starting to grate as if coming to a halt, Jet could see the Shepherd's paws going rigid on the table as if fighting to hold back something inside himself.

"No sir. I think I remember my parents. But they gave me to the slaver, so they must not have cared about me," his heart was breaking all over again - why did Justin want to know this? He had tried so hard to let the memories just slip away, his parents had given him away. The way he said it hurt him, but it was true: they given him away so they could make a few handfuls of money, and no doubt got a good deal of money for him, and he was hardly safe in this place. Routine near-death beatings, rapes, threats, punishment at the drop of a hat that was the life of anyone in the club with a collar. Only Minerva's use for him kept he and his family safe from worse things that could happen.

"Well I suppose there could be worse places than this - worse things than the patrons," the Shepherd's voice seemed to try and urge Jet on and and comfort him, but words had long lost their comfort. All this place was about was breaking someone.

"Yes Master, if you say so Master," Jet had to look away as he realized Justin was still looking at him.

"Yes, I know what you're thinking. I've seen the type here, the bouncers are incompetent to boot. I half expected you to be shaking like a leaf - your rabbit friend over there seems to be. Tell us, what do they teach you here?"

Jet looked over to see Scout just as Justin had described, shaking like a leaf as his patrons teased him and grabbed at his shorts and vest. One grabbed his collar by its lead and ran his fingers over the the yellow tag, "just one more color bunny boy, and you're going to belong to me." The lapin was shaking so badly he could barely hold his tray, all the while on the verge of tears. Jet started to stand to go to his little brother but a paw over his own made him stop.

"There’s nothing you can do for him right now, we both know that, Jet. He will be fine, trust me."

Jet looked at the paw on his and slowly sat back down to answer the questions. "They teach us to read and write and count sir. Along with manners and how to be a house servant. Just things we may need for our work here and to be of use to our Master when we are bought." Jet's mind kept sinking, he had been taught a lot more, and as soon he was moved to waiter, his subjects went to more defined adult educations. He knew how to be a pleasure slave, but his high desirability had thankfully kept him separated from the the more detailed training and first hand experience unlike so many others that were shuffled in every month when the slave traders came into town. He started to say it but Justin’s eyes were on him and he felt some deep shame in what he was saying, "I'm a virgin but privately trained to -"

"Any history lessons?" Justin cut him off, Jet was almost thankful for the new question, feeling as if somehow Justin had purposely cut him off so to spare him some sort of deeper shame or further humiliation somehow. "No sir, but they let us see old movies and read books since we do the stage acts but nothing more, sir."

"Hmm. A good slave is a clueless one, I suppose," Justin moved in his seat - his muzzle almost touching Jet's as he lowered his voice to a whisper. "Tell me, Jet, how do you feel about humans?"

Jet lowered his voice to reply - he spoke what he thought, without a second thought, "I hate them," the suddenness and coldness of his reply seemed to shock himself and he looked to Justin who looked as if he too had winced. Why that question? Was his possible Master a human? "I'm sorry, Master, I didn't me - "

Jet's statement was cutoff as a loud voice interrupted him. "Hey! You rich ball licker! Yea you, you fucking fur ball! You spend all that money for the little shit, least give us all a show! Lets see what he's worth!" The voice belonged to a heavy set, large, burly, and obliviously very drunk man. Jet looked up suddenly, a sudden cold wave coming over him. Had the guy heard what he just said? All Jet could do was stare at him. He was a total monster, his breath could be reeked from at least half a room away of booze and rotting teeth. His gut was barely contained by a greasy oil stained shirt and shredded overalls.

"I paid for a waiter, pleasure slave or not. My pleasure happens to be to hear his voice, and that’s what I paid for," Justin's voice was even and calm as if the person staggering to stand before him was no more of a threat than a fly.

"Bah, pleasure fuckers don't have no voice other than some screams, that’s some good singing if ya ask'n me! Here I’ll show ya only one thing they's good for," the man stumbled over reaching out at Jet and catching his collar. The man was gigantic compared to Jet. His hands were huge, and just as gross as the rest of him: covered in dirt and grease, uncut nails caked in mud and other unidentified detritus of various putrid origins. Jet gasped for air, trying to pull the fingers out of his collar, as the digits forced their way behind his already tight fitting collar. He could feel his throat strain as the man started to pull him up out of his seat. Jet scrambled to his feet, trying to find something to grab to try and protect himself. He tried to scream but he could not breathe. His sight quickly filled with nothing but the vulgar man's face as he gripped his collar, forcing him to face him, the pressure on his neck making his eyes water and strain in their sockets. He felt a sharp pain in his neck as it strained to swallow - his wind pipe being painfully squeezed. Jet's voice choked as he struggled to breathe - he was starting to see stars already. The drunken monster was going to kill him and not even notice. Jet saw Justin move instantly, the monocle falling from his eye and bouncing on the table - the lens cracking as it bounced - as the Shepherd reached into his lapel pocket. In a sudden flash of movement and quick flick of the wrist, Jet felt his collar regain slack as he gasped for air. Justin had grabbed the man's wrist and was squeezing and twisting the man's joints as Jet gasped hoarsely, tears in his eyes from the pain of his displaced throat. Jet tried to pull away, and suddenly felt something shoot over his muzzle's fur. He looked for the source and sticking out like a silver spire was a pencil-sized metal spike plunged into the man's shoulder, now gushing blood. Justin pulled the man's hand away from Jet's collar with a hard yank and pushed the drunken patron away, watching him tumble backwards on the floor, and leaving the man confused for a moment, his arm hanging limp and useless, in the process freeing Jet who instantly fell over the table gasping desperately for air gripping his neck and coughing, his eyes already red and blood shot as they watered. The man started to yell out and stood to charge at the table again as two bouncers tackled him back to the floor. More bouncers came rushing up, grabbing the man and carrying him off, just as Steelface appeared to demand an explanation.

"What the fuck is going on here!? You little piece of shit, get off that table - what the fuck do you think you're doing?" Justin stood the rest of the way up as Steelface shouted at Jet, bringing his nose only inches from the old man's face - an obvious ploy to intimidate him. But still kept his calm demeanor as he spoke.

"Everything is fine, Jet didn't do anything, The trash being hauled out the door tried to hurt him. I did what I felt was in the best interest of my employer and your current merchandise. If anyone one should be yelled at it is me for the disturbance. Now if you could be so kind, would you have some water brought here for, Jet?"

Dumbfounded and staring, Steelface looked at Justin and Jet, who was still gasping for air, "who do you think you are to come in here and demand things!"

"I’m the person who paid a king's ransom for my waiter, and who has business with Minerva shortly, and you know how she hates loosing money." Justin’s eyes sat transfixed on the old man, his fangs barely showing from slightly raised lips. He straitened out his suit, keeping his body language professional and calm, yet the tell tell signs of his face revealing to his target a direct dislike.

Steelface nodded back but said nothing, his gaze wavering before the canine from disbelief of what had just occurred with faint outrage. The bouncers saw the whole thing as well, it happened so fast no one was sure what they saw, but the idea of some fur ball grabbing a drunken man twice his size seemed so far-fetched - but it had happened before their very eyes. Steelface yelled to a passing waiter to the table who was carrying a pitcher and glasses. The face on the waiter was pure terror as she looked over at Jet, and jumped at the sudden shout from Steelface. She was one of the other stage actors who had glared at Jet in jealousy, the once jealous animosity turned to a sorrowful fear for Jet and herself, now seeing that being the best here could be a death sentence. Her eyes welled up in tears as she set the pitcher down and quickly ran away to hide in the kitchen. Justin moved Jet back to the booth and took off his collar and propped him up.

Steelface's face contorted in sudden outrage as he saw Jet's collar being removed - an act disrespectful towards the club. He began to step forward, but then turned and stormed off. The club was strangely quiet now, many patrons forgetting what they had bid on and were busy whispering and talking amongst themselves at the scene that had just transpired. Just like before, however, Justin showed no interest in the chaos and was only focused on Jet, all but oblivious to the room.

"Here Jet, drink, it'll help some the pain in your throat." Justin spoke calmly as if nothing had happened and rubbed Jet's neck gently and slowly where the collar had been. Shaking and sobbing, Jet could barely drink. "Shh, its OK, no one's going to hurt you. It's OK, now." Justin's paws massaged the bruised neck as he spoke. Maybe it was because someone other than a bouncer had saved him, maybe it was his voice, but Jet started to actually feel safe for once. He could only cry harder from Justin's words. Not from the pain or the fear, but because for once he actually believed someone's words - he felt safe for the first time in his entire life.

By now the director had come back, trying to appear as if he was the key to order, "I’m sorry for that man, the slave is still untrained, I’ll make sure that Minerva hears bout how he caused this - "

Justin, instantly back on his feet, his muzzle back in the director's face with a calm demeanor that broke like glass as he struggled to be polite; but the growl in his voice was obvious, "Nonsense! I said before, Jet was not to blame." for the first time Justin's voice rose, and this time his eyes turned to glare at the the director in disgust. "Jet is fine, he did nothing wrong, that drunken brute could have broken his neck - you want to tell Minerva something, tell her that I've made up my mind! Get out of my sight you walking cadaver!" The anger in his voice seemed to throw everyone off, he had single-handedly dealt with an assailant in a flash and the last thing anyone wanted was to be the target of him actually starting a fight. Patrons quickly turned back to their tables and waiters, no one wanting to find out what the Shepherd could do first hand.

Jet looked up to Justin and wiped his face with a paw. Justin looked back down to him, his face just the way it was before: calm and pleasant, as if someone had simply flipped a switch, there was no trace of anger or hatred as he looked back at Jet. No longer feeling afraid, it struck Jet - a calm piece of reality crystallized as his mind started to catch up with the events. Justin called him Jet. Stunned, he looked up to Justin, he came to the simple revelation, He's been calling me Jet since he heard my name. No one ever uses my name but my family and other slaves. All Jet could do was stare back at Justin, who urged him to sip on his water and laid a napkin soaked in water and packed with ice on Jet's neck. Jet did not know what he was feeling, but he liked it. The guards would have tossed the guy out and told Jet to get back to work, but Justin had protected him and was guarding over him.

Finally the dinner shift ended and Jet put his collar back on, and was led back to his dorm. Justin saw him to the hall before he excused himself to go see Minerva. Jet's neck was still sore but Justin had wrapped some ice up in a towel from one the waiters for him to put on it before he left. He walked back to his room alone, still in a daze over what just happened. He entered the dorm room and laid down, laying the towel over his throat and rubbing it softly as he stared up in silence at the ceiling. He had nearly fallen asleep when Scout and Toby came bursting into the room.

"JET! You scared the shit out of us! You weren't at our spot, we'd thought you got really fucked up this time! What happened!?" Of course, it had to be Toby shouting, only he would hide how worried he was by being loud and feigning anger. Scout on the other hand, came racing over, tears almost welling up in his eyes as he started to check every inch of Jet, looking for some horrible wound to cry harder over. All the while Toby continued on his tangent, "we saw them carry that guy out, man he was torn up! I mean wow - "

"Oh my god there’s blood on you, are you OK? He didn't cut you did he?" Scout had noticed the blood that had sprayed over his muzzle and was now frantically looking over Jet for some imaginary wound.

"Guys, I'm OK." Jet sat up slowly to speak, but his voice was still raspy it hurt to talk. His throat felt better, but he could still feel where that hand had grabbed him. A faint trace of ripped fur under his collar served as a reminder of the man's putrid nails.

"You don't sound OK, Jet," retorted Scout.

"I heard some patrons saying the guy grabbed you and then he was on the floor crying like a baby, Jet! What happened?" Toby's curiosity only being half a relief as his mind reeled as Scout worried over Jet like a mother hen.

"It was...something like that, I don’t really know. Justin just grabbed his arm and pushed him to the ground," replied Jet.

"Justin? Who is that? That Shepherd? No way! I saw that guy - he's small! That guy was like ten times his size!" Toby sat on the edge of the bed, the Shepherd's exaggerations only feeding his own excitement.

"That’s what happened Toby, the bouncers were really scared of him - even the Old Steelface."

"No way! Old Steelface? This Justin guy's got to be like some sorta super hero like in the movies!"

Jet felt like the whole incident did not happen, maybe he had passed out, this could not have really happened could it? It could not have, there was no way Justin could have done what he saw. He must have blacked out and the whole thing was just in his head. Jet felt a little humiliated when Scout and Toby started smiling in unison and cheer him on which only made it worse.

"Jet's got a super hero for a client! Come on, tell us! What did you do to thank him? Did you dance for him? Sing? Give him some of them lessons you got taught? Come on tell us!" Scouts energetic childish prying was almost worse than Toby's, Jet felt like hiding in a corner like a little cub. How could he tell his brothers that he had been crying like a baby himself, or worse, say something different and have someone tell them the truth later. He was saved, however, by Justin again.

"He repaid me with something much more valuable, but that’s a secret between him, me, and his Master." All three spun their heads towards the voice, Jet's heart seemed to skip a beat as he looked up to Justin who was now propped against the door frame, his arms crossed. Jet had to sigh with relief - once again Justin saved him from some humiliating answer. "The arrangements are being finalized Jet, we will be ready to leave in a hour or so." Both Toby and Scout looked back to Jet their eyes widening as it sank in to the trio what had just been said. Jet was leaving and he had been purchased, their trio was down to two. Even Jet seemed to be surprised. This is what Justin meant when he yelled at Steelface saying that he had made up his mind. The whole event had been arranged to decide if Jet was to be purchased or not.

"Umm, Master, Justin, " his heart was sinking, his voice was breaking as he questioned Justin. The once loud room with Shepherd and worrying lapin had turned around, the joy seemed to be clouding over and almost felt like a funeral.

"Yes, Jet? And please call me Justin, I'm not a Master, I'm just working for yours."

"C-can I say goodbye?"

Justin put his monocle back in as he looked away from the trio, tapping a claw tip on the cracked glass over his eye and looked at a blank wall. After a moment, he nodded at nothing. Everyone was puzzled from the strange actions of the German Shepherd. Was this really the same guy that had been there to pull Jet's hide out of the fire? "Humm, guess it must have broken when I dropped it - it's almost useless now," Justin was taking off the monocle and rubbing it against his sleeve and tapped it with a claw one final time before slipping it into his pocket. He turned around to address the confused trio, focusing his attention to Jet. "Jet?"

"Y-yes, sir?"

"You'll find your Master to be a bit different and he'll ask or say some strange things - now is one of those times. So bear with this question and give it thought before answering. Are your friends worthy of your loyalty?"

Jet looked around, it sounded like some cheesy line in a romance novel but it was a real question and was actually being asked. Part of him wanted to laugh - if not for the seriousness Justin had shown so far. He looked over to Scout and Toby who appeared to be puzzled and trying hard to stifle smirks of amusement themselves. Jet could tell they were thinking the same thing. Jet smiled weakly at them, they were his family, the only real family he had known since he came here. He knew his answer without thinking as he looked back to Justin and nodded, "Yes, sir, they are. They are my family."

Justin smiled back to Jet, stepping away from the wall slowly, "OK it's arranged then. Tonight Jet leaves with me to be taken to his new temporary home while we are in their territory. You'll have about an hour to gather whatever you have that you wish to take with you Jet. Now let me see, your two friends' names would be?"

"This is Toby and this is Scout, sir," replied Jet, weakly pointing out his brothers to Justin. He felt so confused as to how to feel at the moment, his friends looked down quietly not sure what to do themselves.

"Alright, if you could help Jet I'm sure he’d appreciate it. If he leaves anything behind please keep it with you."

"Um, Justin," Jet finally had to speak up, he always got in trouble for it but so far Justin had seemed to push him to speak up and be open. He spoke freely this time without fear, "I’m sorry to ask, but you you never said if we could say say goodbye?"

"Oh yes course, I’m sorry. I must apologize, I'm used to withholding information, but I don’t wanna break hearts here. Toby, Scout," Justin addressed them both making them jump a little as Justin looked at them. "You boys are to pack as well, we shall return within two days for you. Minerva’s price on Jet was a bit exorbitant and it will take a day or so to have that sort of money on hand. Maybe less if Minerva will cooperate."

They glanced upwards to Justin their eyes wide open, jaws almost dropping to the floor. Finally Toby spoke up since Jet was again in a state of awe and Scout, true to form, had broken down into a sobbing baby, hugging Jet around the neck, "you mean...all of us? We're going too?"

"Yes, in a few days you three will be back together. Jet's Master has some financial interests with Madam Minerva," the boys could scarcely believe it, they were all going to be leaving soon, they all hugged Jet tightly.

"We're leaving Jet, we're not going to be split up! We'll get to be together!"

"Enough, look at you! I have half a mind throw you to the night shift!" The shrill voice of Minerva blasted the boys' cheer from existence. Her form was unmistakable, her thick figure showing the well-fed achievements of her money-making schemes, she was over dressed like a bordello madam, her shape held by the obvious outline of the corset she wore. She almost snarled showing her bright white teeth accented by the glossy red lipsticked lips. "Husky! Look at you - you're filthy! Go to the showers this instant, I have a crew waiting to have you cleaned up for delivery. I don’t want to get the reputation for selling dirty untrained mutts!" The boys stood up immediately and bowed their heads like they had been taught, and even though they would be leaving soon, Minerva’s voice made them wince as if she lashed out at them with a whip. She glared at the three looking them over, "Dog! Rabbit! How many times have I told you the dog is off limits! You all are! Even to each other! Don't think Frank doesn’t tell me what you try to get away with on stage!" Justin looked at her, a bit of disgust forming in his eyes as he slit them to glare. Minerva’s neck seemed to expand with each thing she screamed making it seem as if she was part frog. "You two boys are the only stars left. I'd have expected you to obey the rules, especially now that the husky’s sold! Are your trying to undermine my work? You fucking sluts are fucking pathetic! I swear to god I'll have you put in the box for a week!" She stared a bit longer before reaching back and slapping Toby and Scout hard across the face. Toby didn’t move his head where it stopped from the slap but he held his paws behind his back in fists. Scout dropped his ears over his face and sniffled quietly. "And you! Husky, I thought I told you to get to the showers! Get the fuck out my sight!"

"Minerva, they have done no harm, they are only happy for Jet," Justin pleaded in their defense, letting Jet run past him before Minerva could go off on any more of her raving insanity. Jet raced around the corner to eavesdrop on the rest of the conversation.

"They are still my property, they will behave by the rules of this house. Mister Justin, I'd ask you not to interfere with that. Speaking of which, the payment was counted. As soon as the husky is cleaned up, you can take it."

"Ah yes, well there has been a further change of plans, Minerva. My employer has authorized me to make additional purchases, I'm sorry for not informing you sooner but it seems to have slipped my mind with the events of the night. He has a bit of business he would like to discuss, along with other purchases, namely these two. He’d like to keep Jet happy and so wishes to purchase them as well. After all, a happy slave does his job better, so price is not an issue. Our schedule is a bit behind so it will be delayed, two days at the most, before he comes here in person to speak to you and give you the details. Again I must apologize for the tardiness on my Master's behalf. However, you are aware how unsafe the roads are these days."

"I see," Minerva’s eyes seemed to go wide. Her star attraction was gone and now some guy wanted to buy her other two? Just who was this guy to be able to pay and sate her greedy pallet?

"Well, I will leave you two alone. Please prepare your things." Justin was iron clad as he spoke to Scout and Toby before turning his gaze back to Minerva. "Minerva, while it's not my place to question your authority, I would expect better care of these two. Mistreating them would not reflect well on our future business ventures or bids."

"What!? Why how dare you!"

"I simply report to my employer, I'm not telling you how to do your job, just advising how it may look. After all, they are your three best. I would hate to see such a charming woman loose out on the deal of the century just because of a few bruised fruit."

"I'll keep that in mind…this time fur ball, " she stormed out of the room leaving Justin with the boys as she fumed, her power undermined by her own greed. She walked down the hall and saw Jet as he ran off to the showers taking his time to get there. In fact, he was actually trying to calm down first - Minerva seemed to live to terrorize her slaves. "What are you doing here? I told you to go to the showers!" Jet jumped again and spun around to stare back at Minerva, before bowing his head. "Keep in mind you're a pleasure slave. You better do as you're told! That Justin ain't your Master, boy! He's just a smart mouthed mail dog! You better get your ass in gear, if you come back here with complaints I'll make sure it's the only mistake you'll ever get to make! Go get cleaned up and hurry before you can fuck up something else." She scowled at him briefly before raising a hand to strike. Jet flinched waiting for the strike that never came. He peeked out and saw Minerva turning from him and walking towards her office, leaving Jet standing there listening to her ranting and cursing about Justin: how much money he was going to cost her in the long run, how much she was going to charge for Jet's brothers, always a new curse over some such form of money. Her voice echoed down the halls and was muffled by the slam of a door, cuing her exit to her office.

That was the thing about Minerva, she was cold and no matter how happy someone was, she found a way to suck the joy out of it. Minerva's words burned in Jet's skull like poison, his joy fading away like the last few flickers of a dying candle. Who was his Master? Justin wasn't his Master and he'd only said he was odd at times. Was Justin doing his Masters bidding or just looking out for his delivery? What interest did his Master have in him? That’s the thought that stung as Minerva's poison hit home. He was a pleasure slave, why else would anyone pay so much money for him? That’s what his Master's interest was. Jet sighed as he opened the door to the showers his head hanging as he felt defeated.

"Took the little fucker long enough!" Jet jolted his head up as if the shout had been a gun shot, the voice in shower room's foyer booming off the concrete walls. Its creator being one of three bouncers glaring at him. He immediately turned to the door trying to get away as one grabbed him by his vest. Jet could only lash out to try to get away, he knew too well what happened to slaves caught alone around these specific brutes. His attempted escape from them ended abruptly as he doubled over, the dull hard punch into his gut making him drop to his feet. His breath was knocked out of him, the water Justin had gave him to drink came gushing up his throat as it escaped, soaking his muzzle fur. Now on his hand and knees, he felt his vest being ripped from his frame, but now winded and gagging he had little power to fight back against three opponents. "Come on, we got to hurry up here, that fur ball said he wanted to leave in a hour. This will be our last chance to get that tail! I've been waiting for a long time for a chance at him!" The loudest bouncer walked over and pulled Jet to the rest of the bouncers, his shorts being yanked down his legs and from his body as if he was a child’s doll. Jet just froze as a chill seemed to run through his blood and bones. He knew two of these bouncers. They had made passes at him. They were every male slaves' nightmare. If you were alone and one of them found you, you were theirs to use however they saw fit.

"I can undress myself, " Jet stuttered wanting to be anywhere else than near the bouncers.

"Shut it slut, it's our job to make sure you don’t fuck up and make sure you're ready for your, 'Master.'" Jet looked out to the showers hoping for anyone to save him from what he had avoided all these years. A muscular hand grabbed his muzzle forcing him to look in the eyes of his tormentor, the smell of chewing tobacco and booze heavy on his breath made Jet's stomach lurch again. "Fuck, four years I’ve been 'ere and h'vnt even got to see your scrawny ass let alone lay a finger on you! But Minerva said since it's your last night here and she said we can help! I'd hate to rob ya of a going away party you'll never forget, you over priced fuck rug!" Jet could hear out his ear the chiming of metal against leather and recognized it instantly as someone undoing their belt. His sight gave up not letting him see, as he felt his eyes well up in tears knowing he had no chance.

"You'll keep it in y'er pants less'n you want it on a plate in pieces! All of you will g'et the hell away from e'm this instant!" Jet tugged his head away from the hand as it relaxed, he looked over to see the blurred image of a tall red haired woman coming quickly over and slapping each of the bouncers, "'member you're to 'elp us, if you set a foot out of line I'll cut it off 'fore anyone even thinks to tell Minerva!" The servant's words hissed in the air and seemed to hang in the steamed air. She was smaller than the guard but she did not seem the least bit intimidated by him.

"Whatever, if we had our way we'd have bought him for ourselves. Bet the dog would scream like a little bitch if we got to break him."

Jet squeezed his eyes shut, he didn’t want too see their faces, did not care who was saying what. Fearing their leers, he clenched his fists as he sat on his haunches on the foyers muggy tiled floor, wrapping his arms around his legs to hide his muzzle in his legs. The steamed room felt like a freezer to him as he felt his lack of clothing exposed him to prying eyes, a deep shame coming over him and hatred rewarming his blood. Of all the humans to hate, he hated these the most, and now he was trapped, defenseless and naked before them, prone to their eyes and snide comments and, at any moment, worse. A hand laid over his fist and he tried to pull away, but as he did, he felt an even larger one grab his wrist. He opened his eyes to see a dejected look from the girl that had stood up for him and felt a push from behind, one of the guards had grabbed his wrist and pulled it behind his back and pushed him into the showers. Jet could hear the bouncers back by the door making comments as he was pushed into the showers. The water on the smooth tile almost made him stumble, but the house servant caught him in time. Other hands joined shortly after, rubbing over his body and pouring water over his body. He sighed as for the first time he felt strange hands on his body in ways he never wanted. They were not his friends, they were not there to comfort him, they were people he did not know, their hands worked his fur into a lather with shampoos and soaps.

"Damn look at that! I tell you guys that's one fuck right there I'd given my right nut for."

"Haha! Ask Minerva maybe she'd pay you for it!"

"Hey! Guys! I heard he's a virgin, doesn’t even know what a prick is! I bet ya who ever bought him breaks him first time!"

"What you mean that fur ball been sold and Minerva didn’t even have him trained up?"

"Shit I'll take up that bet! Fifty says they drag his broken carcass back demanding a refund."

Jet's eyes burned and he wanted to cry out, it was all he could do to keep from screaming and giving the bouncers more fuel to their fires. He refused to give them anything. He was just bought to be hurt, the harsh truth was sinking into the very marrow of his bones and he wanted it to just end. He did not want to go on, he just wanted to wash down the drain with the rest of the dirt. His depression sunk his once bounding hope so much that he barely even noticed his mouth being opened like he was a dog. He felt and his teeth being brushed for him, but he clamped his jaw as he felt hands at his crotch.

"Sorry Jet, we 'ave too, Minerva said you 'ave to be cleaned up. I know it ain't something ya want but we 'ave too, it'll be over soon just try n' relax," the red haired girls voice seemed to fall on deaf ears even though Jet knew she was trying to comfort him. He experienced the biggest humiliation of his life now, and shame, the bouncers had come over to cheer him on and add more insult to his already demeaning pain as they watched the hands caressing every inch of him scrubbing his hide.

"Told ya boys, look he's really enjoying it," the bouncers laughed and the others joined in and Jet cursed at himself and his body for the problems of a male youth showing for others to see before an audience.

"He really is a fagot! Bet ya it was us that got em' up, come on you guys Minerva don’t need to know if he gives some head before he goes!"

The hands moved away from Jet and for a second he felt as if they were going to throw him to the bouncers but they instead dumped buckets of warm water over him and washed the soap away, before leading him into he middle of the room. He looked around as bottles were handed out and the Bouncers grinned as if they were the cat that ate the canary, everyone pouring oil into their hands and everyone grabbed a hold of Jet's still wet body rubbing there hands over it. He wanted to run he wanted to scream but his voice was gone, all that was left was a scared little boy inside a broken shell. He did not want to see whose hands were where, he looked straight ahead and shivered as he felt different hands stroke over his more private areas. His lip trembling in shame. He heard the wet slaps as The red haired girl slapped bouncers away from him, " I don’ wan'a see ya' even going near that part of em! Do ya 'ear me!" Part of Jet understood she was trying to protect him, but the rest only saw the degrading unfamiliarity of what was happening to him. Finally they stepped away and only the two servants remained wiping him down and brushing his fur.

"Fuck Bob look at that slut. He looks even hotter! Bet he’d make a nice show mutt."

Jet was led to his clothes - a new uniform had been set aside for him. He stood there quietly as the servants dressed him and brushed his fur here and there to help it look as nice as they could. "There ya go, you look beautiful. 'Ere take a look," the servants were all smiling at their handy work while at the same time, they would scowl at the bouncers. Jet was handed a mirror. Jet looked in it and he saw his reflection staring back at him: his fur had carried a shine he had not seen in weeks, he could smell the musk from the oils fill his muzzle, he felt his fur slide where his fingers touched like a silky smooth cream. He was the most beautiful he ever looked - and he hated it. He hated himself for looking like that. Jet threw the mirror against the wall and dropped his head in shame, clenching his paws into fists.

"Oh don' be like that! I’m sure ye'r Master will love it!"

"Whats love? It's got nothing to do with me," Jet's voice was low and dry he looked back at the mirror's shards on the floor wishing both he and it would just shatter into a thousand more pieces until there was just dust.

"Hear that boys!? The slut done figured it out!"

"That’s it! All of y'all ge't the fuck out of my sight! I'll fuckin' skin you alive if you don’t get the fuck out right now!" The servants voice screeched like a banshee making the fur on Jet's neck stand on end as he winced. "Thank you, to the rest of you, you can go. I'll take Jet to the client now." She watched them all leave and waited for the door to close before turning Jet around to face her.

"Don’ ya listen to them, I can guarantee you your Master is nice and will be careful with you. He'd never hurt you. Why I bet in a few days everything will change."

"I don't want someone to be careful with me! I want..." Jet stopped and looked at the house servant, did he not know what he wanted? His whole life was spent in here, he did not know anything else. What was coming was what he was raised and trained for, and that thought hit him and he hated himself even more, forcing himself to resign to his fate.

The servant led him downstairs to meet with Justin, all the while rubbing his back hoping he would speak again, but it appeared the mood he was in only hours before had been devastated beyond repair. "I know you don’t know me or your Master, Jet, but trust me, he is a good man, he'll never h'rt ya, and soon ye'r whole life will change in ways you've only dreamed." Still the husky never looked up. The servant opened the door to meet Justin in the foyer of the club, a small box of his things was already there on a bench. She nodded to Justin softly. "Be careful with e'm Justin, Jet's really messed upright now, Minerva let some the guards help with his departure preparations, an I think it really got to him. If they did som'thin' I don’ know about, ya' let me know, I'll put it right."

"Thanks Beth, I know you did what you could, I’m sure he knows too," Justin looked at Jet noting how he was now looking at the floor as if he was a broken marionette and hanging by dead strings. Justin sighed softly and could tell there was something bothering him but now was not the time to pry into it. "Come on, Jet, let's get out of here. It's time to see a new life and a new home." Justin held out his paw, taking Jet's in his and leading him out the door. The guards nodded hard as if to give the OK and looked outside before giving him the all clear. He lead Jet out onto the street and they boarded an old horse drawn carriage and headed off into the dark.

The ride was quiet and dark, the sun had set behind the clouds, winter was fast approaching the region. Justin was watching Jet intently the entire trip along the road looking for some break in his mood or a chance to speak to him. But Jet never moved, never said a word, he just sat staring at the floor. How long the ride was, Jet had no idea. He zoned into his own mind feeding himself fears and nightmares of his new life, of what this Master would be like and what he would do to him. He kept scrutinizing himself into a deeper and deeper depression from each thing he could think of to crush his own will. Finally the carriage pulled up a hill, the sound of rusty metal grinding against metal overpowering the sound of the carriage as metal gates closed. The carriage slowed to a halt at the entrance to a silhouetted mansion. Justin got out picking up the box of Jet's meager belongings and offered his paw out to Jet to help him down, which Jet ignored as he stepped from the carriage. For the first time his paws met unfamiliar ground. Jet looked at his feet feeling cold smooth cobble stones under his foot pads. He looked up and only nodded to Justin following his lead through a dark doorway.

Justin stopped suddenly, his ears drooped down as he turned to face Jet. The once calm and calculated looks on the Shepherd vanishing with the wind as he lifted Jet’s chin and looked directly in his eyes, a sudden sorrow showing that almost took Jet off guard. "You're handsome Jet, I don’t know what happened at the club, but don’t think less of yourself. You’re even better looking when your happy. Whatever they said to you I can guarantee you it's not true. No one here would ever hurt you."

"Yea, I'm fine, just...tired, sir. I'm sorry for my appearance" Jet lied badly, he was not really that tired. He did not care how he looked. He just wanted whatever was going to happen to be over and done with.

Justin glared at him seriously, he knew it was a lie but he did not know what to say that could bring him comfort, "I think you look perfect Jet. They did very well with grooming you. I'm sorry I couldn't be there to stop the bouncers from bothering you. It has been a long day for you. Let's get you to bed, you'll feel better in the morning. I hope I can see your smile again soon." They walked up a flight of curving stairs and stopped at a set of doors, "Here we are, this is you and your Master's room. I was given orders to show you here and let you get some rest. He isn't here but should be before you wake. He wanted to see you soon as you arrived, however he is hard at work on business, if you're asleep he will let you rest." Justin opened the doors and led him in the room. It was badly unkempt, patches of plaster were missing and there was paint peeling everywhere, a faint trickle of moon light came in from dirty cracked windows. Despite the dilapidated look there were a few things here, showing life had touched the room recently. Some crates were against one wall, two old large backed chairs facing a recently cleaned fireplace and a super king sized bed. As Jet looked around, Justin nodded as if confirming a thought, "Sorry, it's not in great shape but we just acquired the building. With a little work it could look good as new." Jet just seemed to look around but made no comment or any motions other than the same look he had when he left the club. Justin let go of Jet's paw slowly leaving him looking around, "Jet?"

"Yes, sir?" Jet turned to look at Justin his voice almost void of any life. Justin winced as he heard Jets voice and a look of deep sorrow seemed to spread over his face.

"If ...if you wanna talk, if there's anything you need, I’m the next door to the left, OK? Please don’t worry, No ones going to hurt you Jet."

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir." Jet's eyes seemed to be in pain, his whole image changed from the cute and over-joyed husky he had seen earlier in the day. His voice was dead and hollow. Justin looked down quietly not knowing what more he could say and stepped back out of the room, slowly pulling the doors closed. Jet waited until the doors were closed and then walked over to the bed and climbed up onto it, laid on his back looking at the ceiling, and closed his eyes. Maybe he was a little tired, but he was definitely quite depressed. He sighed and felt himself sinking down into the thick feather blankets as he closed his eyes wishing for nothing more than the oblivion he had dreamed of for so many years.

Jet was in his shared dorm room with Scout and Toby; they dancing around about some act they had just finished. Strange, he could not remember what show they had just done. Did it even matter? Jet was laughing as Toby did his usual mocking of Steelface, the director. While Scout was off at the other side of the room stretching and trying to do some new gymnastic stunt. Suddenly they both stopped and looked at him, "Jet you know what, you get to leave! You're getting some part in a big play! I hear its Broadway! You remember, from the books!"

Jet looked around and Scout nodded as they raced up to hug him. "You better hurry, Jet, don’t want ya to miss the curtain, they're outside waiting for you," Scout was beaming a big smile at him ushering him to hurry to the door.

Jet smiled and waved to them before racing out the door, but the first full step past the door, he noticed how dark the hall was, he turned back to the room and saw his friends waving and cheering him on before the door suddenly slammed shut before him. He turned back around to see what was going on and took a step towards the hall - he tripped in the dark and fell. He threw out his arms to catch himself but as he felt for the floor to catch him, it gave way. It was not ground, he looked to see where he was falling, screaming as he fell, grasping for bricks and roots of the foundation of the building as it all seemed to fly away, leaving him falling down a pit. He realized his scream was quiet and looked around quickly as he fell only to notice he had stopped falling. Instead, he felt restrained and sluggish in his movements. He moved around and noticed he was underwater and not falling, but sinking. The water turned cold, black and oily starting to choke the breath from him as he was pulled down. Jet struggled, he had to get air, every fiber of his being knew he had to breathe, he had to get air or he knew he would die. He tried to swim away from where he was sinking, he looked up to see a glimmer of light, that was what he had to swim towards. He quickly started to feel dull and numb, trying to swim as his body grew weak and protested for the one thing it desired and did not have. For as hard as he swam, he was not getting closer - was he even moving? But he did not move, why was he not moving!? He had to swim harder, he had to get to the surface of the water, he looked down and there was his gruesome answer. He could not swim away because dozens upon dozens of hands were reaching up, grabbing his foot paws to pull him back. Snide and grotesque faces stared back up at him between the reaching arms, all of the faces making obscene gestures, as their hands fought to keep his paws in their grasp and pull him down. "No!" he shouted, watching the breath he was holding escape his lungs. He could not let them pull him down. He would not let them win, he would get away, he would make it, he just had to swim harder. Mustering his remaining strength, he turned back, kicking back at the hands and arms to get free. Jet looked where the light had been - all he had to to do was reach it, reach the light and get air but it was gone. The light had been replaced with two large eyes starring back at him, floating in the dark. "You can't run I'm your Master! You're only good for one thing! Let me show you!" He knew the face, his neck ached from the memory as he saw giant hands with broken yellow dirty nails reach out from above, and grab him by the collar, and push him back into the arms. He did not want to die, he did not want to die like this! The eyes blinked and changed. They stared at him, one was green and one was blue, they were Jet's own eyes looking back at him now as the grip choked him under the water. "Why don't you want it, it's all you're good for, just do it and die!" Jet screamed out falling faster back into the dark waters as the hands grabbed him, wrapping around his chest and neck, his last breath and scream floating away in a bubble in silence as he was sucked backwards into nothing.

" NO!" Jet screamed out, shooting straight up in bed panting and gripping the sheets. His body trembled violently as he gasped for air. He was terrified, his hair and fur matted as he sweat. He panted, catching his breath and he noticed the room lit by an amber light in the room coming from the old fireplace.

"Bad dream, pup? I had been hoping your first time to sleep way from the club would have net you better dreams," a calm quiet voice came from the fireplace, a tall silhouette moved slowly so it was facing Jet. The voice did not carry a concerned emotion or any emotion that Jet could place.

"Yes sir, I'm sorry I didn't mean to scream I...who are you?" Jet questioned into the dark, trying to see the silhouette staying just out of the light of the fire.

"Well it appears I’m your new Master, yes? Since you are in my room laying on the provided bed and from the looks of you I would assume you are Jet?"

Jets ears drooped slowly and he nodded, "Y-yes Master, I’m called Jet."

"Ahh, good, I would hate to have to share my bed with someone I wasn't expecting. Come here into the light, let me see who and what you are, Jet." Jet crawled out of the bed looking down at the floor and stood at the fireplace, keeping his head down not looking up to meet his Master's gaze. His breath still catching up to him from the nightmare still wracking his brain. "Well I see what you are, but that’s not all that I paid for Jet." Jet nodded and felt his heart sink as he took off his vest and shorts, leaning over to step out of them never looking up as he looked at his Master's feet. He could see them now in the light, they were huge - easily twice size of his own. Jet looked down to his own feet, fearing the rest of his new Master. If his feet were that big, he must be huge! He reached out blindly and felt his Master's side, his fur warm to the touch from fire. At least he wasn't human, but he still felt a lump in his throat, he did not want to do this, he closed his eyes hoping to shield himself away form what was happening as he felt around blindly caressing his Masters sides moving his hands down to this Masters hips.

"No Jet, I didn’t pay for this either," the voice restated the order. The voice was calm, it was not a voice he had expected, no put downs, no criticism. Jet did not know what he meant. Maybe he just wanted to see what Jet had been taught.

Jet folded his ears back, kneeling down before his Master; he was a slave, worst of all a pleasure slave, he did not have a choice. His throat felt dry as he clenched his eyes shut and leaned forward. He used his paws to rub over his Master's body, feeling nothing but fur. Then he felt a large paw grip his own, the sound of the chair sliding away from them as his Master shifted his weight causing him to wince expecting to be hit. "I’m sorry Master I - "

Jet's apology was cut off mid sentence, "This isn't you...and this isn’t what I paid for."

Jet's eyes shot open, he had not been hit, his Master had crouched down and was looking right at him, his eyes fixed on his own. Jet gasped as he saw them, large solid hazel eyes, their black pupils glowing and flickering from the fire's radiance. He had never seen eyes like that on anyone except animals in the movies he watched, all he could do was to look back, petrified. Each flicker of flame making them flash as they captured the light, Jet almost felt as if the eyes were peering into his very soul.

"There we go, there you are, your eyes are beautiful, Jet. I see a little more of you in there, in your eyes."

"M-Master I-I don’t understand?"

"I know what you are. Tell me Jet who are you?"

"I-I'm a pleasure slave Master, I am my Master's Desire, property and servant without question," he nearly choked on his breath as he spoke.

"Cute, but that’s not what I paid for, or hoping for. Jet...you are Jet. So long as I quote unquote own you, I want it to be just like that. No one will hurt you and no one will ever treat you like a slave or servant or anything like that here no matter what. Do you understand Jet?" Jet nodded slowly looking back. Jet did not really understand, his Master just paid a king's ransom for him and now did not want him? What did he mean? "You’re a bad liar Jet," the figure got up, pulling the chair back towards the fire. The room seemed to explode with a blanket of dark midnight as he sat back. Jets eyes opened wide as he jumped back a little and saw the reason he could not see any light - his Master had wings, huge and black as night wings, which he spread from his back between the chair and across the room as he sat back. "Jet come here and sit with me, we have much to discuss. Justin said you seemed very upset."

Jet nodded softly as he stood up walking over to the chair, his Master offering a paw before pulling the small husky into his lap, Jet, reclined against his chest nervously. Jet could see him now in the flickering light. His Master was a wolf, his bulk reminded him of Toby but his fur was thicker and softer than Toby's, his legs seems to be longer, no...his feet were bigger, he walked on the balls of his feet, he had true canine digitigrade feet. He carried the same accent tan fur like Toby did. Jet could not tell, but it seemed as if he had shadows around his eyes, or maybe dark fur.

"Tell me Jet, what is wrong? What happened after Justin saw you in the dorm room at the club that could make the smiling face I saw change so much to this poor sad young dog I see before me now? This is not who you are."

Jet's eyes looked up confused. How had he seen him? How did he know Justin was in his dorm? He look puzzled but answered quietly, feeling a little scared, and still felt doomed to a dark fate. "Minerva reminded me, and the bouncers too, they reminded of my place, Master, that I'm just a pleasure slave and a toy, no one will ever love me, I’m just-just for someone else's use." He closed his eyes and turned his head before looking blindly at the fire not to watch it but just to stare.

Jet's Master's arms moved over his shoulder and crossed over his chest holding him close. "You're wrong, Jet," his Master moved his neck downward until his muzzle was just inches away from his ear and whispered softy and as delicately as a soft breeze. "You're not a pleasure slave, and you're not a fuck toy, and you are very much someone to be loved." Jet felt a small lick at his cheek and looked up confused. "Isn’t that what you have really wanted? Those empty nights you lay awake?"

Jet felt a warmth covering him and strangely he felt safe, and his eyes widened, is that what it was that he really wanted? His friends loved him and were always at his side like a real family, but so many nights he had lain there in the dark looking at the ceiling feeling alone and bitter knowing the next day he would be just an object to be shown off. "Yes, it is...how did-" he could not finish his sentence, he did not understand how his Master knew this, he had never even been to the club - he would have remembered seeing a winged wolf!

"How did I know? Minerva caught our attention some time ago, we have eyes and ears that tell us, and see things for us in the "True Ruler's Club." One of my compatriots installed a hidden camera in your room when I discovered you."

"Master?"

"You can call me Miles"

"OK, Master Miles, why me?"

Miles tilted his head, his eyes lighting up as the angle caught more light from the fire. "Well close enough for now I guess. Why you? Cause you stand out, you didn't belong there, most of all you wanted to be picked, you wanted to be you. You're different Jet, and those close to you are different because of you."

"I don’t understand?"

"You love to act Jet, but you hate your audience, I've seen your work and I've seen how you change when you do the cat walk, and I’ve now seen how you look in the mirror. Jet, you are handsome, don’t let hatred make you become something you're not."

No one spoke after that, the silence was a calm that seemed to be welcome as they sat together with the only sound being the crackle of the fireplace. Nothing could have broken that moment for Jet. For the second time he felt safe, he was in the arms of what every slave ever wanted, someone that would hold them and be nice to them, and his had been spying on him, and now he was in his arms being held and protected from the world outside. Jet sighed gently and turned in his Master's lap reaching out to feel his fur. He had never wanted to touch anyone until now, and for once, he found someone there that was not just one of his brothers and who did not make him want to cringe away from being touched. He nuzzled his head into his Masters chest fur, barely noticing he was yawning as he nuzzled close.

Jet slept the rest of the night forgetting where he was but feeling for the first time in years warm and safe. Finally he stirred from his dream. He had dreamed of some strange and horrible things, but it was over now. It was just a dream. He pulled the covers around him, and found his fingers gripping the warm feather blanket. No not a blanket, real feathers, this was not his bed. He opened his eyes to look up. His Master and the day before had not been a dream - Jet had fallen asleep in his lap, the wolf's massive wings folded over him like a blanket.

"Good afternoon Jet. I hope you slept much better this time?" The wolf's hazel eyes seemed to shine back at him as if to smile. The rest of the wolf's face seemingly devoid of emotional features.

"Yes, thank you Ma-" his mind reeled and remembered he had been told to call him by his name, "Thank you Miles." Jet looked at his Master's face, it was strange, it looked like a normal large wolf, but his eyes carried patches of black fur under them. Jet sighed softly to himself, feeling his bed moving underneath him. The realization of where he was suddenly struck him, "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep like this. I hope it didn’t bother you?"

"Not at all, you had a long day and needed rest."

Jet could only smile happily, as all his greatest hopes were coming true. He had been lucky to find a kind Master, given that he was strange just by looks alone and how he talked. But he had held him and had expected nothing of him. He had spent a king's ransom no doubt to pay Minerva's insane price for a pleasure slave and then did not want him for his body or training. Mile's arms were still around his middle holding him gently as he laid there under his wings. He felt as though for once he was being shielded from that world that up until now only wanted to use him and hurt him. "Miles, I hope it's OK if I ask but, I’ve never seen anyone with eyes like yours or wings?"

"Chances are you never will anywhere else. My breed are rare, Jet, we are Paladins. we were created to help you."

"I don’t understand, " Jet looked back questioningly.

"I didn't think you would. Tell me Jet, you told Justin you don’t like humans? Any reason why?"

Jet felt a pang in his chest, was his Master upset with him for saying that? Should he lie and try and say he does not? Those eyes looked back at him like emeralds in bowls full of water, and he decided to tell the truth and hope it was right. "Cause they took me, my family gave me to them, and they have hurt me and used me since. I’m assaulted, trained to be degraded the object of there sickest desires, and they try forcing themselves on me ever since I was was a child."

"I see, strange though...you are just as human as humans are animal."

"But how? We don’t even look alike!" Jets stomach lurched in his guts, he felt sick, how could he say such a thing, how could he be like those humans.

"Because, Jet, were all made the same. We look the way we do because we were born that way. Someone's actions are theirs, many of our kind are just as bad or worse than the humans you don't like. I can't make you change your mind, but I would ask you to give them a chance before passing judgment on them all."

Jet could only nod softly, his mind not quite grasping the idea that his Master was not mad, not that he could tell from the cold monotone voice, and all he wanted was for him to try and get along. He could try that for him at least.

"There’s a good man, we need to get up now. I unfortunately have lots of work to do. I'd like to get everything in order to get your friends as soon as we can." Miles slowly unfolded his wings revealing Jet to the world, the room was still warm, the fire had long burned down to mere coals and the sun was shinning light through the cracked panes in the window. Jet suddenly felt very shy, he had forgotten in the night that he crawled into his Masters lap and now he saw he was naked, his lithe form exposed to the now lit world, he looked around for his clothes and noticed what had to be his Master's clothes and relaxed a little knowing that his Master was not clothed either. He could feel his ears going red but for once he felt the shame he had known subsiding, giving room for a sense of comfort and ease. "I'm sorry, you woke before I could change for bed, Jet, but I wouldn’t feel so shy, you are gorgeous. Besides you’ll find many of your kind only wear what we need to be ...civil. Constraining clothing tends to be itchy and wreaks havoc with fur." Jet nodded shyly and hugged his Master before starting to crawl away from him, getting up to give his Master room to stand.

"As much as I dare say it, your outfit was very arousing, but it's not for you now. Justin I’m sure will be bringing you a uniform soon." Miles walked across the room, his large paws pushing aside the dust as he stepped leaving huge wolf tracks in the dust, he stood by a crate and opened it up pulling clothing out. Jet could only stare, his Master was huge but not big, he was tall, maybe seven and a half feet, with his height from his legs. Those anthropomorphic legs lifted him from the floor. He was not massively tall at all, his bulk he had felt was not even big, it was fur, thick wolf fur - his winter coat already coming in. Jet looked at it from behind, his fur silky and well kept, his wings seemed to blend into his fur within his shoulders. His eyes glided slowly over his Masters form trailing down to his tail. Jet had always been gay for as long as he had ever known, and he stared a bit longer than he should have taking in the firm back end of his Master. He felt a pang of urges as his Master's tail swished to the side as he turned. Jet's view suddenly coming to the parts he suddenly wished he had felt against his side all night.

"I believe you might be showing some of your...intentions."

Jet shook his head and looked down noticing his youthful urges had indeed, come into play again, and blushed, feeling his ears burn. Not only had he been caught starting it was more than obvious at what. "Yea, I umm, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I, mean..."

"Don’t worry about it, you're not the first to have such reactions around me."

Jet could only blush and smile, watching his Master dress. His clothes were a bit odd and consisted of zippers and buckles in odd places, but then again how else would you wear a shirt if you had wings let alone canine legs. Though the boots were something Jet would never have expected. He stood there feeling the dying warmth of the smoldering coals against this own naked fur and only snapped himself free of the dream before him when someone knocked at the door.

"Sorry I’m so late, Master, I brought Jet some clothes. I hope they fit. He is a bit ...petite... compared to our troops."

Jet looked up and suddenly felt very shy turning towards the fire place, kneeling down to grab his club uniform from the floor, thankful they were so close. Justin entered the room, his bright eyes even brighter now in the sunlight. He looked at Jet and gave a warm smile that could have melted even the hardest of ice. Jet could only smile back at Justin, able to do nothing more than blush as he kept his front facing away. He had always known he had a bit of a small frame but 'petite' made him feel more girly than he had teased Scout about. Justin smiled at Jet as he sat the clothes down on the chair and turned to nod to Miles.

"Miles, I must ask again, why are you going there yourself? I’m more than able to handle Minerva and the proposal."

Miles looked over at Justin as he spoke calmly directing his voice first to Jet directly. Then to Justin, "Jet go ahead and try on the clothes. Justin you know how I feel about the 'True Ruler's Club.'" As much as I hate it, this is key to our operation. Minerva has been getting first pick of all caravan merchant shipments. She is the key to gaining this region."

"That is exactly why I am worried. The merchants are getting more cautious. We can't watch them forever like this. If anything goes wrong with Minerva, we'll be spread too thin trying to catch them to carry on with our mission and worse we will have exposed our origins."

"She will not refuse. She is much too greedy to refuse. If things do not go well, as you put it, there is another option: she only turns up to do business. I doubt anyone would notice until it's already too late." Jet, meanwhile, was looking over his new clothes. It was jumpsuit and a vest with numerous pockets, a belt and some boots. He could hear every word and felt like he really should not be in the room and so instead focused on his new clothing. He tried on his clothes finding that all the joints of the suit had been fitted for flexibility and mobility with elastic so they stretched in all the right places as he moved. All-in-all, it fit over him much like his old slave uniform but gave more cover for the modest person. He put on the vest over the jump suit, wondering why such a garment had so many pockets while putting on the belt but looked a little confused at the boots. He had never worn shoes before. He tried them on and tried to walk around finding it a new feeling as the ground under him seemed to always be against his feet. He tried walking and found himself walking awkwardly, either stepping too light or stomping his feet to judge the ground. He did not even notice that Justin and Miles were now watching him as he loudly stomped around until he looked over and saw their gaze, their conversation not missing a beat.

"If that’s what you want to do, But I don’t trust it. And you know neither will the superiors when they get here." Justin’s tone was flat and cautious as he looked over to Jet, noticing him trying to not pay attention to the conversation, "Master, I'll leave you to help Jet out. Just be sure you're doing what is best in handling Minerva."

"I will, it will take more than what they have to put me or our mission in any kind of trouble." Justin nodded slowly heading out of the room closing the doors softly. Miles turned back to Jet as he heard the door close completely, "seems your clothes are a bit of a tight fit on you, Jet. Would you like to see if I can get something a little looser?"

"They feel fine, Master, thank you. I like tight clothes. Just feels weird. They never allowed anything that covered so much."

Miles looked at Jet, The husky expecting some form of facial expression but the closest he could find was a soft gaze from those hazel eyes, "Those days are over Jet. You can wear whatever you want from now on. Though if you wore your old outfit I’m sure you'd be a distraction to a few of the troops." Miles stretched his wings slowly. "By the way you don’t have to call me Master, or Master Miles."

"But Justin referred to you as Master?"

"No, Master is also a title for someone who teaches or trains someone. Just something to show respect. Though Justin has more of my respect, I do not believe I have taught him anything he did not already know or learned in the academy. It always seems peculiar to hear him call me Master." Miles shook his head partially as if from the thought of his words and partially from watching Jet struggling with his first pair of footwear. Stepping forward and kneeling down removing them from Jet to set the boots to their respective foot. "I see you never had boots before either. You’ll get used to them pretty fast though. You don’t have to wear them if they make you uncomfortable. Our uniforms call for them due to terrain and work, I'll only advise you to wear them depending on where you're going. Sound like a good deal?" Jet nodded and sat back on the bed.

"Thank you, Master."

"It's nothing, Jet." Miles smoothed out the ruffled fur on the husky’s feet, feeling his paws. "You have soft paws Jet, be careful where you walk. The mansion is still being rebuilt and there's a lot of sharp rubble and nails. If you escaped from the club, the terrain would have shredded your paws. So try and stick to the finished parts."

"Yes, Master. I will."

They spent the rest of the day walking the grounds. Most of which seemed to pertain to Miles checking the status of one thing or another and continually being handed clipboards and being asked for approval. Jet stared at everything as they walked around. The place really was a mansion, a very old and dilapidated abandoned mansion. There were wild bushes and weeds growing everywhere. The entire west wing seemed to have collapsed. Vine encrusted fountains full of brackish water seemed to be the last remains of beauty in the inner grounds. Jet was still in awe either way, the place was huge and could easily have fit more than a few of his previous home inside of its walls. The hours passed quickly and Jet found himself sticking closer and closer to Miles. The place bustled with humans and fur bearing creatures, some of which Jet had never seen before, of all ages and sizes. It was the humans he found himself fearing, and instinctually he clung by his owners side like a scared puppy. The whole day Miles and Jet were continuously stopped by the varying array of people all greeting Jet and welcoming him to a new life. Jet could only hide his fear of the humans and thank them, grateful for his acting skills until he was finding his fears slowly subsiding as no one acted like the humans he had known all his life. He found himself wandering into his thoughts and he never noticed a human racing up to them, his thoughts shattered as a man's voice boomed loudly yet surprisingly cheerful despite the volume of it, "Hi! You must be Jet!" Jet spun around to face the voice, noting a broad shouldered man wearing the same uniform as himself, though much worse for wear and wash. The sudden fear of this large human made him step back, not sure what to expect - his frame reminding him of the huge tattooed brute of a guard at the club. Miles, on the other hand, was nonplussed by the shouting, continuing to read through a clipboard full of papers and requests, all but oblivious to the events around him and Jet. "Still little frayed around the edges, I see. Son, I heard where you were from and I just wanna say, welcome home, and I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through. I'll be looking forward to see you around." The man smiled at Jet with such a warm smile that seemed to radiate a contagious feeling of happiness, and Jet could only feel a pang of guilt for being so wary of someone who meant him no harm. The figure was already walking off before Jet could say an apology for his actions, the figure already barking orders to people working and correcting them.

Jet tugged at Mile's sleeve to get his attention, "Who was that man, Master?"

The wolf didn’t look away, scribbling this and that on the papers. "You can call me Miles, remember?" The wolf felt the need to remind Jet again of his options of what to call him. "From the loud voice and over-abundant cheery mood, I would say that was Brian, he is one of the head foremans here for the reconstruction. He has been with us helping out on these missions since he joined nearly fourteen years ago."

For the remainder of the day the only event was the random surprise visits from Brian, announcing what had been fixed, what had been delayed and what was needed to finish a job. Each time he seemed to always have a question to ask of Jet, anything from his favorite colors and foods to what he would like to do now that he was free of the club, which for the latter part, Jet had no answer. When Jet had mustered the nerve, he tried to apologize for his first action but Brian just shook his head and smiled ruffling his hair, "No need to apologize. Them 'skin jobs' make us all look bad, and I’m sorry what they did to ya, Son."

Miles raised a brow turning his gaze to Brian, "you should not teach the boy such terms, Brian."

"I'm sorry, but you know he'll just learn them all soon enough. Better he hears it from good people first. Anyways, got a few more things to work on! I'll catch back up with you in a few boss!" And before Miles could say anything, Brian was already running off and climbing up scaffolding to the second floor, yelling out names.

"Ma-Miles, why is he so interested in me, he's come up to ask me so many questions of me all day?"

"My best guess, since you asked, is he likes you. He has been away from his own son for months, but refuses to take a break from the work here. You being here seems to make him happy to know his work is worthwhile," Miles looked at Jet as he spoke, his still blank facial expressions reminding him of the calculated calm that Justin showed in the club.

"Doesn’t he want to see his son?" Jet could not understand why anyone would want to work for months rather than take his opportunities to be free from what seemed to be back breaking and unending work.

"From the way he talks about his son, there is little doubt he cares for him very much and wants to see him again. However, his wife and son both consider this work to be extremely important and worth the long separations."

"This mansion is that important? Isn't it just an old house?"

"It's not the house, a house is just four walls full of junk. It's not the house it's you and your friends, our mission here. That is what is so important to him and his family."

Jet felt ashamed that anyone would do such things for him, when he had nothing to offer in return for such an action, "Why would he do this for people like me and others?"

"Some twenty years ago, Brain was in a unit that broke up a slaver caravan, his wife was one of the slaves. From what I was told, they were virtually inseparable from the start and a few years later, they married and still a few years later they had a son which would be near your age. They both swore that they would do all they could to help end the slave caravans. However they could. So we find locations for our operations and Brian fixes them and makes a workable base of operations from even the worst conditions. His wife works in the territories, acquiring supplies from food, medical supplies and even cloth for our uniforms. This helps the morale of our troops and even for those we save. Because of his skills in construction, we have the space to house freed slaves before they go back home to start their new lives." Jet listened intently, amazed that anyone would sacrifice anything for him or any slave. The deep consideration surrounding him left him speechless. Miles lifted the husky's chin, looking him in the face, "Tell me Jet, if you had stayed your full time with Minerva, till she sold you off, what do you think would have happened?"

The question was not even needing to be thought about as the husky shivered visibly, he had lived in fear of that single prospect for years. "I would have most likely been beaten, starved, and raped until they killed me or traded me off, but you bought me right?"

"There is the answer you really want, we are here to end all of that. People, whether human or beast, deserve to be free and not live in fear or be bound. Their choices are their own to make, for better or for worse." Jet felt his eyes swelling as Miles spoke, despite his calm flat tone, every word he spoke reminded him of how safe he felt in less than a days time, how his fear was stripped away so quickly that all he could do was lunge toward the large wolf, holding him tightly, barely able to hold back his tears. The wolf's eyes blinked in surprise as he spread his wings to keep them from grasp of the tight hug - he had let himself be taken off guard. He could feel the husky's body pressing against his; he knew this feeling from people and freed slaves, and reached down to caress the pup's hair to reassure him.

"Thank you for everything Master. Thank you."

"I have done nothing that I wasn’t meant to do." the wolf's words of duty only betrayed by caressing Jet's cheek, showing there was some level of emotion hidden behind the wolf's hazel eyes. Jet looked back into those eyes and it seemed for a moment that the wolf was reading his mind, but before Jet could speak again the wolf silenced him by speaking up. "You seem tired Jet, how about we get you some food and call it a night?" Jet had not even thought about food. His stomach rumbled at the mere thought of it. The night before ensured he was running on empty.

"We never got much food or any if we didn’t earn it at the club." Jet's stomach rumbled again, it had been almost two days since he had had food, nothing new for him, but in all the events going on, he never even noticed how hungry he was. Miles nodded and offered out his paw to Jet so they could be on their way.

"Well then, let's get you some food. Ann makes some of the best food you will ever have." Miles led Jet to what was a large ballroom converted to a dinning hall with rows upon rows of folding tables and picnic tables clogging the once open floors to make room for everyone in the mansion and even more. An attached kitchen had been constructed and a wall removed, giving a food line for everyone to get their food before sitting. Before the duo had even reached the halfway point of the room, they were all but assailed with people greeting Jet. Jet lost count of the greetings quickly, but had to guess that at least seventy people had greeted him just in the dinning hall alone, and could not even count how many had greeted him during the day's duration. Jet's ears burned with admiration from everyone being so nice, something he had dreamed of, a crowd that just liked him for him and not something sinister. He sighed happily, smiling as he thanked everyone, finding himself even thanking humans that only in half a day had started to make his old fears go away. The crowd kept around him, cheering hellos and well tidings to him. Jet was barely aware of the crowd parting to make a path until he started to hear clapping, a cart being pushed forward by a heavyset female raccoon wearing an apron over her jumpsuit. But it was not the woman that caught Jet's attention immediately, but the huge cake taking up most of the cart and the candles flickering atop them.

"We been waitin' for you, Sugar. I was startin' to think I'd have to go and tug you by your ears, Miles!" The raccoon's voice was firm but motherly, the soft chide obviously more of a joke than threat. "Now where is our cute little guest of honor?"

"Right here, Ann," Miles answered, nudging Jet towards the cart. Jet meekly made his way forward, the crowed clapping for him, some patting his shoulder, a few even ruffling his unkempt hair. As he reached the large cake, he could read the inscription, "Welcome home, Jet!" The icing was made up to look like the sky, with a small toy plane sitting at the end of the cursive writing. The cake's candles were scattered at the top of the picture, seventeen in all. He stared at it for a moment, he did not remember seeing such a huge cake, let alone standing before any cake that was made for him. A hand rested on his shoulder, and he looked over to see it was the hand of the raccoon, Ann.

"Close ye'r eyes, Pumpkin, make a wish and blow out the candles." Jet rested his hand over Ann's and nodded and closed his eyes trying to think of what to wish for. His mind was a blank, he had everything he could ever want in the span of the past day. He opened his eyes looking to Ann and then to Miles, smiled happily and made his wish.

The night was a party: everyone was laughing and chatting, eating cake, and having a good time - though Ann insisted Jet have a real meal before he could have his cake. Both were more than welcome by Jet. He had real food and for the first time, cake. During the festivities Brian made a late appearance, followed by six of his workers who made a rush for dinner and cake. Brian, however, went straight to Miles and gave him a note, which the wolf read with calm resolve. "I see, this explains quite a lot. Thank you, I'm sure he will be deeply grateful. What you and your men do in such little time never ceases to amaze me." Jet tried not to stuff his second piece of cake into his muzzle whole as he watched Brian laugh at the wolf and thank him, before rejoining his men. At last people started to file out to hit their bunks, congratulating Jet as they left. Jet could feel himself starting to yawn, being worn out and for a change, tired with a full stomach. Miles noticed almost immediately, are you tired, Jet?

Jets head felt a little heavy as he nodded, "yes, Master."

"Miles, you can call me Miles," the wolf struggled to keep Jets mind aware of his choices that seemed to never sink into the husky. "Well, let's get you to bed then, you still have a few surprises awaiting you." Jet looked back up with a jerk, what else could he be possibly be given? Miles offered his paw to Jet, seeing how sleepy he was becoming, if one thing could be said about Ann's cooking, it was that it was filling and could cause a food coma after a hard day. They reached their shared room just as Brian was exiting it. He gave a smug grin and smile to the two.

"I figured I would get the room warmed up with a fire. It's all set, just don't lean on the walls 'till they dry completely. Should be fine by morning."

"I'm sure he will love it, everyone has done so much, I doubt this is a day he shall ever forget."

"Thank you for everything Brian," Jet beamed to Brian, "I don't know how I can ever repay you."

"Just live on your own terms and be happy, that's all we want for you, Jet." Brian smiled and risked the resolve to ruffle the husky's hair knowing all he had been through with humans.

"We need to get the pup into bed or he won't get to see his surprise." Brian nodded and opened the door, standing at the doorway wanting to see the effect of his crew's handy work. Jet's eyes widened as he stepped into the room, finding a sudden jolt of energy as he looked around. The room was now freshly painted, no more flaking plaster or broken windows, complete with fresh furniture, full curtained bed frame and wardrobe, and topped off with a warm fire. At the foot of the bed, sat a chest with Jet's old uniform and a stack of books, which Jet could see were clearly titled with various Shakespeare plays. Brian rested his hand on Jet's shoulder, "Glad you like it, son! Now you should get to bed before Miles here boxes my ears for keeping you up!" Jet nodded and turned around to give Brian a hug. For the first time, he touched a human willingly, and for the first time he liked a human, and for the first time he trusted one.

"Thank you so much, Brian!" Jet slowly pulled away from the hug. Brian replied with a broad smile and ruffled Jet's hair again before making his way to the door.

"You guys get some sleep, I'll see you tomorrow at breakfast," with that, Brian could not hide a yawn of his own, he and his crew had raced to do this project quickly and quietly - sleep was at his own doorstep.

The door closed, and Miles looked to Jet who was making his way to sit on the edge of the bed, already undoing his jumpsuit, flopping back on the bed as he reached his target. Miles made his way over to help the husky undress and into the fresh blankets and sheets, tucking him into bed. The wolf made his way to the fireplace, unfastening his uniform and slipping free of his own clothing, vaguely aware Jet was watching his every move. He turned to flop in the large chair unfolding his wings from around his torso, his wings spreading out, but stopped before he sat back as Jet spoke up. "Master?"

"Miles, you can call me Miles. What is it, Jet?"

The husky paused for a moment thinking of what to say, "That chair doesn't look too comfy, and this bed is very large. Why not share it with me," Jets voice was tired but determined. Miles only nodded and walked over to the bed, his nude form shadowed by the shadows cast by his wings. He laid on top of the bed on the empty side, stomach first letting his wings relax and spread across the bed, but didn't crawl under the blankets. Jet showed a brief glimmer of hope but moved closer to the wolf enjoying the feel of being under his wing.

"You know Jet, you don't have to keep calling me Master. You are free as of today, no one owns you and you can do whatever you want and be whoever and whatever you want." Jet met the wolf's gaze. He had taken in the hints over the day about being freed, but actually hearing it being said made some drastic difference in his head.

"Master?"

"Jet," the wolf's tone cracked for once, sounding questioning at the smaller canine.

"I don't want be free, this is everything I want right here, I feel safe and happy and I want to stay with you..." the husky's words trailed off as sleep hunted him down quickly. Miles swallowed hard, feeling something in himself crack and went to rebut the husky's bad choice but saw his head buried against his wing, as he fell sleep almost in the blink of an eye. The wolf sighed softly to himself reaching out to caress the smaller canine's cheek. Jet sighed in his sleep, his wish had come true.

"If you only knew..." and with that, Miles closed his own eyes and for the first time in weeks, he felt sleep overtake him as well.