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happy when he saw who had bought him—a big, furry creature who had a lot of baggage in tow, which, no doubt, the slave would now have to carry. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been quite so anxious to display his strength.
When my Zetithian male was led to the block at last, I noticed that, for the moment at least, his penis had quieted down considerably. He walked with his head lowered to avoid yanking on it, and I hoped he didn’t see me or get a whiff of me or whatever else it might have been that had triggered that amazing display of his manly attributes, or I just might lose him to another woman. I chuckled to myself thinking how odd that sounded— almost as though I considered him a lover whom I feared might be taken from me by a more beautiful competitor.
    The auctioneer looked a little afraid to be standing so close to what was obviously a very dangerous specimen, but managed to contain his fear long enough to ask for the first bid.
    The silence that followed was nothing short of deaf-ening. It appeared that I had been right about no one else wanting him, and the Cylopean really started wringing his hands, then!
    “He is strong and willing to work!” the man exhorted desperately. “He is the best the market has to offer!”
    The silence went on, broken only by scuffling sounds as beings of all kinds took a few steps backward. The Cylopean, in a sudden fit of rage jerked hard on the chain and his slave roared out in pain and anger. It reminded me of the sound that a Euclidian lion makes when its tail gets twisted. Really loud and really pissed! I’d obviously waited too long.
    “Five credits!” I shouted, though I believe I could have whispered it and still have been heard quite clearly.
    The Cylopean forgot his anger and began to sputter in protest. “Five credits? He is worth more than fifty!”
Which was about what I would have paid for him if the arrogant bastard had been willing to sell him before the auction. I wished I’d had the opportunity to smile evilly at him, but with the respirator on, my facial expressions were wasted. So I settled for a gesture which is also universal: I flipped him off.
    “Sold!” the auctioneer shouted, obviously quite anxious to put as much distance between himself and the Zetithian slave as possible.
    I stepped forward and laid the credits on the table.
    “I’ll take that,” I said to the slave trader, indicating his remote as he and my slave stepped down from the block.
    The money lay there taunting him, a mere fraction of what he might have made if he’d only been just a little less greedy. The auctioneer’s assistant took two of the credits and pushed the other three toward the Cylopean.
    With a snarl, the bastard slammed the remote on the table and snatched up the credits, which disappeared instantly into his robes, but not before I heard another roar from the Zetithian slave. The remote obviously controlled the genital restraint which had tightened painfully in response to the inadvertent triggering of the device. Although, judging from the smirk on the Cylopean’s face, he’d probably done it purposefully, as a parting shot, if you will.
    Fortunately, it only pulsed for a moment and didn’t remain engaged until it was released, for my slave relaxed after a second or two, though I could see the anger boiling within him. He wanted to kill that man so badly he could taste it. Deciding that I would test my control over my new slave right now, I took the chain
from the guard who had taken it from the Cylopean, lest he attempt to damage my purchase any further before handing him over.
    I stared up into those dark eyes, now sparkling with hatred, and noted that they seemed to be the reverse of those of the average house cat, having a bright golden pupil and a black iris. His pupils seemed very cat-like, however, being glowing, vertical slits rather than the dark, round pupils of a human.
    “Kill him, if you wish,” I said quietly. “No one will stop you.”
    He