“Are you Marrik?”
Marrik glanced over at
the man that spoke, surprised by the softness of the voice he heard until he
saw the small, thin man standing beside him. Then it made sense. No man that
regularly inhabited the bar they were in spoke so demurely. It could get
someone killed.
There was one exception
and he stood in front of Marrik, his head bowed, eyes looking down at the
floor as all pets should do. Meeting a master’s eyes could be seen as a
challenge for power and that got people killed.
“I’m Marrik,” he replied
slowly. He was intrigued as to what this pet wanted. While it wasn't unusual
for a pet to approach him, it was unusual for one to speak before given
permission to do so. It was very unpet like.
“Remsen Marrik?”
Marrik sat up straighter
and leaned back in his chair. He crossed his arms over his chest as he stared
the man down. “Who wants to know?” he asked, curious to find out because not
many people knew his first name. Everyone just called him Marrik.
Marrik was shocked by the
glint of desperation in the milky green eyes that darted up to meet his for a
brief second. The man’s entire body shook and he looked ready to pass out on
the floor. He was clearly terrified.
“Please, sir?”
“Yes,” Marrik said,
softening his reply when the man’s anxiety came through in his distressed
whisper, “I’m Remsen Marrik.”
The relief that came over
the man was immediate. His shoulders slumped as if a large weight had been
lifted from them. His eyes closed briefly then dropped back down to the floor
when they opened up again. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a white
envelope, handing it over.
Marrik almost fell out
of his seat when the man knelt down on the floor at his feet. He sat back,
raising his arms out of the way as he watched the man wiggle under the table
between his legs to lay his head down on Marrik’s leg.
The man let out a
contented little sigh and all of the tension in his body seemed to fade away
right before Marrik's eyes. The little guy looked happy as fuck to be right
where he sat—between Marrik’s legs. Marrik would be lying if he said there
wasn’t something he liked about the man sitting there.
As the man snuggled in,
Marrik remembered the envelope he held in his hand. Curious, he broke the wax
seal and opened it up, pulling a piece of tan parchment paper free. He frowned
as he opened it up read it.
Dear Remsen Marrik,
I would be the first to
say that you and I don’t see eye to eye on almost anything. We’ve even had our
fare share of differences over the years. However, I have never seen you as
anything other than an honorable adversary.
That being said, there is
no one I feel I can entrust my precious treasure to except you. I know that
you will protect my Boy with everything in you. If you’re reading this letter,
something has happened to me and I am no longer able to care for him. My Boy
is special and many people want him for their own nefarious purposes and I
hope you will keep him safe.
Boy is a gentle soul that
needs a firm hand, guidance, and a safe place to be. I hope that you can
provide that for him. I have informed Boy that he now belongs to you and must
serve you as he served me. He understands his duties. His personal contract
has been amended and your name now replaces mine as his master, as has his
identifier mark.
I am trusting you with my
most valuable possession, Marrik. Don’t fuck it up.
Jonathon Simpson.
Marrik’s mouth dropped
open and he stared down at the man kneeling between his legs as shock flew
through him like a freight train. He had inherited a boy, a pet? He didn’t
know if he had ever heard of such a thing.
“What is your name?”
“I am called Boy,
Master.”
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