Two Days Later
Anthony pulled the limo up in front of the county jail. Bruno got out first, then opened the door for me. The two of us waited while Anthony parked the limo. We walked up the steps, and Anthony opened the door for us. We followed signs to a desk with a bored-looking elephant behind it. The name on his badge was Bernard Odell.
We stopped in front of the desk, and the cop sat up and smiled at us. "Gentlefurs, can I help you?"
"Two visitors for Andrew Cameron," Bruno said. He passed our papers over. Most places, my choker with "Wynn: property of the Hanging Academy," would have identified me. But Ted had warned us when he helped arrange the visit "They're very careful at the jail. Be sure to bring ID for both of you."
Odell studied Bruno's ID carefully, then looked over the card that identified me as a slave, belonging to the Academy. He nodded, tapped a few keys on his computer, and nodded again. "Okay, you're expected. What about him?" He glanced at Anthony.
"I'll be waiting out here," Anthony answered, "I'm just Wynn's bodyguard." He offered his ID card.
"Okay," Odell answered. "There's a waiting area right over there."
"Thank you." Anthony went over and took a seat.
Officer Odell tapped a couple more keys, and another cop came up, Ike Fallon, according to his badge. "If you'll follow me, I'll take you to a visiting room."
He led Bruno and me to an area labeled "Visitor Control". We were scanned for metal, explosives, drugs, electronics and I don't know what else. Bruno had to check his gun and cell phone, and we had to explain about the slave tracker. They called the desk and Officer Odell verified that we'd showed him the papers on it. The cop in charge of Visitor Control hung up the phone and waved us on through.
Fallon led us a short distance to a room with a table and chairs. He explained that we were required to stay on our side of the table and Andrew would have to stay on his side. We could shake hands, but nothing more.
Another cop brought Andrew in and watched until he was seated, then withdrew. Fallon stood a short distance away. We could talk privately, if we kept our voices down — assuming they didn't have a microphone hidden somewhere.
"Wynn," Andrew began, "I'm glad to see you."
"And I'm glad to see you, now. Even here. But... How did you get here so fast? It hasn't been long enough for a trial, not even long enough to negotiate a plea bargain, right?"
"I went straight from our meeting to the police station and turned myself in." I knew I was going to spend some time in jail, so there was no reason to postpone it. I'll get credit for time served. Whether it's just a few months or over a year, the sooner I start, the sooner I'll be out. And the sooner I can start getting the grades and experience I need to get into the Academy. Right?"
"Oh. Right."
Andrew started talking, slowly, thinking out what he wanted to say. "I owe you much more explanation than I gave at that meeting. Probably more than there's time for today, but I'll do my best. Just..." he paused, then "This is just an explanation. Not an excuse. Never an excuse."
He paused, then went on hesitantly, "This is complicated, and it's going to be hard to believe."
"Just tell the truth, Andrew. I'll know."
"You'll know? You fell for the way I led you on about the slave contract and getting Dad's okay. I'm not proud of that, not any more, but—"
"That was before I went to the Academy, Andrew. We learn to read body language, micro-expressions, things like that. Think back to the day you hanged Marshall. Remember in the tent?"
"I sure do. And I still don't see how—"
"Marshall showed me where to hide, where you wouldn't see me. But that's not the point. You came in, all set to lord it over Marshall. You were going to make him do something degrading, right?"
"Well, not that awful. I just wanted him on his knees in front of me."
I chuckled. "He'd have been glad to do that, if you'd asked nicely. But you remember what he did?"
"Sure, he pointed out how I could help him put on a really good show. And the sex was really good."
"Sure. But how did he know exactly what to tell you to get you to go along with his plans, instead of him going along with what you'd originally planned?"
"Uhh... I guess I hadn't thought about that. It just seemed so logical at the time."
"He watched you. He was watching from the moment he arrived, right up to the moment you pulled the lever. You remember, afterward, I asked you for his little finger?"
"Sure. I was prepared to give you a good square meter, and you wanted so much less. I never understood why."
"When I was in the tent with him, he promised to show me how to wrap a male around my little finger. After he got you to go along with his plan, he hugged you, and stuck out his little finger behind your back and made a circular motion with it. That became the symbol of what I wanted to learn."
"So...?"
"So, I learned. We all learn. We learn to read emotions, to know what the customer wants — what he really wants, not just what he thinks or says he wants. That way we can make sure he goes away really satisfied."
"You can read my mind?"
"No, your emotions. Not what you're thinking, but how you're feeling, how you react. So just go ahead, tell me. If it's true, I'll believe you because I'll know it's true."
Another pause, then he went on: "I watched you wake up on Purity Island, and it was everything I hoped it would be. Your panic, despair, tears. But I didn't feel happy. I didn't feel triumphant. Not even sexually excited. I felt empty. Drained. Listless. I brooded about it, staring into space at work, moping around the house. When Dad got back from the hospital, he looked at what my department was doing and called me in to explain. Something was wrong, but I couldn't figure out what.
"I told Dad I was worried and depressed about his 'mysterious' symptoms and about your disappearance. I think he suspected what was really bothering me, but he didn't say anything. Whether he suspected or not, he asked around and found the best therapist in town. Then he put me on paid leave — on condition that I check into the clinic for full-time treatment."
"Okay, so you had therapy. But how... how did you change from the Andrew I knew — the Andrew who had me kidnapped — to the Andrew who sincerely regrets that and wants to be a Hanging Boy? It's been less than three months since I woke up on that beach. I know there have been a lot of advances in therapy in the last 50 years, but still... a turnaround like this in less than a year...?"
But as soon as I said that, I remembered: Maverick had gone overnight from a sarcastic, me-first bastard to helping other students — and, incidentally, my lover, my most beloved after Scott.
"Dad checked with ten different doctors to find the best therapist in town, then called in some favors to get me accepted immediately. Dr. Danton is a Psychiatrist; he uses a combination of drugs and therapy. He also has a genetic biochemist and a neurologist on staff at his clinic. He uses a combination of talk — to find out what's bothering you — and behavioral therapy. Essentially the same techniques you use to teach a baby to be a human being. When you behave well, you get rewards. When you don't, you get only the basics: cold cereal for breakfast, a PB&J or Mac & Cheese for lunch, a hamburger or hot dog or Campbell's soup or pasta with sauce out of a jar for dinner. That restaurant meal was a reward for an entire week of acting like I cared about other people. So I was making progress on my behavior, but I still didn't know what I really wanted."
I nodded.
"Then you showed up and I choked on that steak. That was frightening — I thought I was going to die. But at the same time, I got so turned on... I finished my entree, waited for Maeve to finish hers, then persuaded her to skip dessert.
"As soon as we got into the limo, I reached for her. I'm not sure why she didn't object to my grabby hands. Maybe she was so happy that I wanted her and not you... I was just too horny to wait until we got home, and the limo was from a service that is famous for its discretion. So we made love in the back seat. Which was really great, by the way."
"Yes, but how...?"
"As I said, I was improving my behavior, but I still didn't have the real motivation. That experience of choking gave me the motivation. After a couple of sessions, I knew what I wanted: to be a Hanging Boy, like you, Wynn. Once I knew what I wanted, the therapy went faster.
"Dr. Danton did a bunch of tests on me the day after I checked in. PET and CAT scans and functional MRI and neurotransmitters and some I can't pronounce. If there'd been anything wrong with my brain, it would have shown up. But there wasn't anything wrong. Nothing organic, anyway. But my gene scan... that was the big surprise... I came up as normal for a bottom."
I gasped. "Bottom? You?"
"Yeah. I mentioned the genetic biochemist. Based on my genes, I should have been like you: studious, a little nerdy, and a helper: happiest when I could make everybody around me happy."
"But you know Dad. Once he's made his mind up, he doesn't change it. He'd decided that I was going to be the heir to his business. So he had me given hormones and special training to be dominant, a leader. He succeeded, mostly. I'm pretty good at business, and I could do a good job as the next CEO of Cameron Industries. Maybe not as good as Dad, but I'd have kept the business growing. But interfering with my natural bent like that also turned me mean."
"Yeah, I think I'd noticed."
He smiled, rather sheepishly. "Once we had that figured out, Dr. Danton rebalanced my hormones and my neurotransmitters a little. More important, though, I now knew what I really wanted: to be a Hanging Boy. Like you. I had the motivation to change. That was really important. Before, I'd been going along with the program. Interacting with other patients and staff when I was told to, and earning privileges by behaving the way I was supposed to. But after I decided to become a Hanging Boy, I really worked at it. Instead of waiting to be told, I sought out opportunities to work with other people. Not to be a doormat, but to find solutions that worked for me and for the other person. I'm hoping to become like you. I'm not going to let anything stop me if there's a way to get there. Certainly not my own pride or stupidity. I'm going to become the kind of malefur that I need to be to get in, and I'm going to work hard to graduate. And if I can get to be 90% as good as you are, I figure I'm doing pretty damn good. Hell, I just hope I'll be good enough to be accepted.
"Anyway, that's my story. It doesn't excuse what I did, but at least you know how I got to be such a bastard — and why I'm determined not to be one any more." Andrew looked relieved. He'd been wanting to tell me all this for days. The more he got out, the happier he looked. Now he was almost relaxed.
I'd been watching him, there was no doubt in my mind. I knew what he wanted. If he were in a position to buy my services at a party now, he'd have his mouth around me, not the other way around.
"Okay," I told him. "I can understand that. And more important, I believe it because it's what you really think and feel."
Andrew sat for a few seconds, silent. Then he sat up a little straighter. "Okay, I've explained how I got to be here. Now, how about you. How did they find you and get you off Purity Island so fast?"
"I got the crew of a trading ship to bring me back from the Island." And I told him the whole story of how I escaped from Purity Island, with full orchestration and four part harmony and stuff like that.
By the time I started talking about how we subverted Puppy, Andrew was grinning like an idiot. When I got to talking Justin into rescuing the three of us, he cracked up, bent over the table laughing so hard he could hardly breathe. Fallon came over to check if anything was going on, but left once he realized it was just Andrew laughing.
"So, while I was figuring out what I needed to do to get in the Academy," Andrew gasped out when he could finally breathe again, "You rescued yourself and two other prey anthros, armed only with your wits, with all the disads I'd stuck you with in, less than a month. Fan-fucking-tabulous! Wynn, you're the best!"
We chatted a little more, then Bruno touched my arm, and I looked up at the clock. We'd been talking for nearly four hours. It was time to go back. "We're ready to go now," I told Fallon. We picked up Anthony at the desk and returned to the limo.
That Night
I tossed and turned for over two hours, struggling with my conflicts about Andrew. Marcus eventually woke up. "Something is bothering you," he said.
"It's my brother, Andrew."
"I thought that was over. He's in jail; he won't be able to do anything to you until after your hanging."
"Yes, but he's changed. Not the same Andrew. He is genuinely sorry, and he wants to become a Hanging Boy.
"So what's the problem?"
"The way he is right now, he's not going to make it. He's too busy regretting what he did wrong. He needs to concentrate on what he wants to do, not on his past mistakes and misdeeds."
"He'll get past that. Or you'll figure out how to get him past it. One or the other."
"Yes, but..." I wasn't sure how to put this, at least partly because I was a little ashamed of the way I felt. Marcus waited while I figured out what to say. "I've helped myself. I've helped other students. But this isn't just a student. This is my brother Andrew. The brother who — I won't say he made my life a living hell, but he bullied me. I avoided him as much as I could when I was a child and early teenager.
"Andrew tricked me into signing a slave contract. If I hadn't stolen a march on him by running to the Academy as soon as I got my acceptance, he'd have had me chained up in a dungeon, to be a sex toy for him. He would have had me surgically converted with a functional womb, to bear children for him. Not even because he wanted children that much, but just so he could torture me while I was pregnant. Andrew did have me kidnapped and dumped on Purity Island in slave chains. If it hadn't been for Runner, I'd still be there. Probably working as a slave for some farmer, but at best hiding in the woods, eating nuts and berries, and always afraid that I'd get caught in a trap, or by some dogboy like Puppy."
"But you want to help him anyway, don't you?"
"Yes. I do. But not enough to be sure I want to make the effort of figuring out how."
"Hmmm... Tell you what, Wynn. Ask my brother. But not now. In the morning. Right now, you need to relax. Lie on your stomach."
Marcus started at my neck, rubbing gently at first, then almost hard enough to hurt. His fingers worked their way down: my shoulders, my mid-back, my lower back, and finally my buttocks. Then he started going deeper, kneading the muscles, working his way back up to my neck. Then he turned me on my side and lay down facing me. He grabbed my head and kissed me, lips to lips at first, then his lips opened to invite my tongue. I went from zero to horny in about 30 seconds. Then he pressed his entire body against mine, rubbing his chest against mine, his pelvis against my rapidly-hardening cock.
Suddenly I was breathing hard and needed release. I started to get into doggy position so he could penetrate me, but he pushed me onto my back and turned on the nightlight on his side of the bed. It was just bright enough to see the room and its furnishings. Marcus got up and wheeled the hanging platform under the noose. He went into the closet for a few seconds, then came back to bed.
"Look at it, Wynn," he ordered, "The noose. Soon, maybe a month, maybe two months, you'll get up on a stage and onto a hanging platform like that. Your hands will be tied and your fur coated with a shimmering golden powder. One of your friends, maybe me, will put a noose around your neck."
He put something around my neck, and I realized he'd brought out a spare noose. He positioned it just as we would for a practice (or real) hanging. "Then your new owner will pull the lever," he went on, "and the platform will sink away under you, and you'll be hanging by your neck."
I thought I'd been horny before. Now my need was so strong I reached down to jack off, but Marcus grabbed my hands. "Wait," he told me. "You'll kick and writhe for the audience, put on your best show, but sooner or later the noose will strangle you to death. The noose always wins, eventually."
This was too much. My cock was so hard it hurt, I was starting to develop a case of blue balls. Then Marcus leaned over and wrapped his lips around my cock. He flicked the end with his tongue, again and again. It made me hotter than ever, but I couldn't cum from that. Then he started sliding his lips up and down, but slowly. Too slowly for me to get over that threshold that I so desperately needed.
Feeling the rope around my neck, I stared at the noose dangling from the ceiling, the noose I'd practiced with once or twice a day for nearly four years. A noose identical to the one that would, someday — soon, I hoped — strangle me to death while I made dozens of people incredibly horny with my performance.
Then, at last, Marcus sped up, sliding his lips halfway down then almost all the way off, over and over, and on every stroke his tongue flicked the sensitive spot just below the head. Thirty seconds of that and... The orgasm started in my cock, then my balls. It spread to my nipples like a lightning bolt, then to my head, down my spine to my feet. My body convulsed. My scream of pleasure woke up everybody in the hallway. This was better than when I'd masturbated with a towel around my neck right after watching Marshall hang, better even than when Marcus had come to me made up as Marshall. Possibly as good as the first time Maverick and I made love after he'd finished his evening practice session.
Marcus slowed down as I grew hypersensitive, and gradually came to a stop. He swallowed, then kissed me, sharing the aftertaste of me mixed with his own natural taste. I grabbed him and kissed him, hard, with lots of tongue.
There was a quiet knock on the door. Marcus pulled away from me to call out, "It's okay." The door opened and somebody looked in. The two of us, still hugging, and the smell of sex told them everything they needed to know. I heard some whispering, then the door closed again.
"Rest now," Marcus told me. He turned off the nightlight, turned me onto my side, and wrapped his arms around me. Ten seconds later, I was asleep.
I felt much better when I woke up in the morning. I remembered the previous night and... "Wait. Marcus, you made me cum so hard, but I left you high and dry. Want to fuck me this morning?"
"High, but not so dry. As soon as you were asleep, I put a little lube on my hand. Thinking about you hanging with your fur all shimmery gold, it took about ten strokes and I came. Had to use my other hand to muffle my scream so I wouldn't wake everybody up again. So, thanks, but I'm okay. Let's have breakfast."
It was almost as if the caf was catering to me this morning: the featured dish was Belgian waffles. Crisp waffles with fruit compote and whipped cream on top. Yum.
Marcus had to go to class, so I went back to the room, put Marshall on my desk, sat down facing him, and gazed into his eyes. I let my thoughts wander, telling Marshall everything that was bothering me. All about my brother tormenting me when we were children. About Andrew's plans to keep me chained up and pregnant in his custom-designed dungeon. And about Andrew having me kidnapped to Purity Island.
Then I went on to the other side. About the new Andrew, who wanted to become a Hanging Boy. And why he wouldn't make it. And my doubts about whether I wanted to help him. And the ultimate question: could I help him? What could I do to get Andrew past his guilt and regret and thinking about the future again?
A thought gradually formed in my head. This isn't the Andrew who tormented me, who tricked me into signing a slave contract, who had me kidnapped. That Andrew is dead, gone. The squirrel I visited in jail is using Andrew's body, has Andrew's memories. But he isn't Andrew Cameron, not the Andrew Cameron I knew. Let's call him "Andy."
I looked at the clock. It was nearly lunchtime. I stood up, stretched, looked out in the hall, and found Holden and Hamish just coming back from class. "Hi, I asked, "Could one of you come in and watch me practice hanging?"
"How about both of us," they said together.
I practiced for just over twenty minutes, then waggled my foot. Hamish pushed the lever to bring the platform back up. I stood there, getting my breath back, while Holden took the noose off and untied my hands. Then we went off to lunch.
I had an advanced hanging moves class to teach after lunch. When that was finished, I went back to my room, sat at my desk, and communed with Marshall again. And, eventually, I knew the answer. Jail time atones for Andrew's crime against the community. But he also needs to feel he has atoned to me. I have to give Andy the opportunity to do that. And, with that thought, I knew what Andy needed, what I needed to do. But the minimal contact allowed in a jail visit would prevent me from doing what needed to be done. Okay. I know what I want to do. And what I need to do to make that happen. Getting the opportunity is a problem for another day. I picked up Marshall's head, kissed him, held him against my cheek like a child's plush toy. Then I stood up and put him back on his shelf. I'd work this problem out. I was sure of it.
I paused at the door of Marcus's and Zuchter's room. Runner had spent the night there with Zuchter, while Marcus slept with me. I listened before knocking — I didn't want to interrupt if they were making love. It seemed fairly quiet, so I tapped at the door, and heard Runner's "C'min."
Runner looked up from his reading and grinned at me. I looked at the book: "Shep's Day With Dad." I recalled that it involved a young boy spending the day with his father at work so he could see what Dad did for a living. He was sitting up on the bed behind Zuchter, his knees pulled up with the book propped on them. A squeeze bottle of chocolate syrup was leaning against his left shin, and Puppy was nosing at it while looking up at him hopefully. Puppy was whimpering softly, clearly a request to Runner to do something with the bottle.
Runner had woken me up early this morning while I was still sleeping in Marcus's arms. He'd asked to take Puppy down to this room, and now I could see why.
Zuchter was on his knees and face on the bed, blindfolded and gagged as he preferred to be, his wrists tied to his ankles, his ass high in the air. He was sweaty from recent exertion, and his thighs and crotch seemed slightly darker than normal. I pressed my knuckles against my mouth to keep from laughing, but several snorts escaped. I knew what had been happening, partly because I knew how much Puppy loved chocolate.
Runner closed the book, using his thumb to mark his place, petted Puppy and said, "Oh, okay." Picking up the squeeze bottle, he held it over Zuchter's upraised rear end and dribbled chocolate sauce over the Lippizaner's privates, concentrating mainly on his cock, where the sauce ran slowly down over his balls and inner thighs.
With a grateful yip, Puppy rose onto his four legs on the bed and began licking up all available chocolate.
Zuchter gave a high-pitched squeal, and started squirming spastically, his muscles uselessly straining, the squeal quickly turning into rapid, breathy grunts. As Puppy finished with the more easily-reached sauce and began lapping earnestly at Zuchter's cock, the grunts became sharper and briefer, timed with the rhythmic tensing of the muscles of his arms and legs as he got more aroused.
Puppy was nearly finished when Zuchter's leg and buttock muscles tensed one more time and stayed taut, quivering. His grunts rose in pitch and then held a sustained note while he spurted semen onto the (already much stained) bed.
Zuchter slowly slid down the far end of his climax, and found Puppy's attention less welcome. He squirmed, trying to push Puppy away from his oversensitive parts, but Puppy continued licking undeterred. At last the final bit of sauce disappeared. Zuchter was left alone to catch his breath, giggling in spite of the torment, his whole body now bathed in sweat.
That was just another facet of the gem that was Runner, his quick understanding of Zuchter's offbeat wants and needs. I shook my head, grinning. "Runner, could you take his gag out just for a minute? I need to ask him something."
Runner put his book down and laughed. "I think he's had enough anyway. That's his third time." Runner reached forward and began untying Zuchter.
As soon as he was free to move, Zuchter pulled out the gag and slipped off the blindfold. He immediately turned to Runner and threw his arms around him. "Thank you so much, Runner, that was great!" He gave Runner an affectionate kiss, then looked up at me. "What's up?"
"You're on monitor duty for the party Saturday, right?" The Second Years were hosting the upcoming party.
Zuchter nodded. "Marcus and I both did bedrooms last time."
"I was going to ask the Dean if it'd be okay for you to be assigned to monitor my room. I just wanted to check with you first."
"Oh! Sure. Have you got any extra signals?" There were standard hand signals the hosts used to alert their monitors to special needs. Occasionally host/monitor pairs worked out some additional ones.
I shook my head. "Just the usual. I'm not expecting anything weird. If anything I'm sure they'll be on their best behavior."
Justin Greene and his crew, the men who had rescued me from the island, were going to collect, at last, the remainder of the reward I had promised them.
Runner gasped. "Is that this Saturday? That's..." He frowned in thought, pulling out of memory what he had learned about the days of the week. "Is that three more days?"
I smiled and nodded. "Today is Wednesday."
"The sailors from the boat are coming to this one?"
I nodded again. "I need to get that done. There aren't too many more parties before I do my own show."
Runner gasped again. "Do you know when your show is?"
"Oh, no, not yet. Not exactly, but around a month from now, give or take a week.
"Can I come to the party?"
I frowned. "Well, there's a place where you can watch from outside the room..."
Runner shook his head vehemently. "I want to be in the party. Wynn, I've never had sex with a femme before. Isn't that something I need to learn, if I'm going to be a Hanging Boy?"
I bit my lip. "Well, remember, you aren't really a student yet. That's still going to be awhile." I thought a little longer. "And most of the customers are male, so you might not get any female experience anyway."
Runner had a determined look on his face. "You said you were with femmes before you came here." He looked at Zuchter. "Zuchter, you did it too, right? Before you were in the Academy?" Zuchter nodded, and Runner looked back at me. "You said I need to learn as much as I can about what all boys do, because Hanging Boys know so many things before they come here. Isn't this one of those things? I've watched males have sex with femmes on TV, so I know what to do. But watching it isn't the same. I need to do it."
I made a mental note to suggest that the dean hire some professional escorts to teach Runner about M/F sex.
I was about to dispute how much Runner really knew about sex with the other gender just from watching television, but realized that wouldn't be at all helpful toward putting Runner off. The more Runner saw that he didn't know about a subject, the stronger his need to learn it became.
It would be futile trying to satisfy Runner's hunger for knowledge with anything other than real food. I couldn't promise anything for sure, but I said cautiously, "I'll ask the Dean if it's okay..."
Runner bounced off the bed with a huge grin, enveloping me in his usual tight hug. "Thank you, Wynn!"
Zuchter cleared his throat. "We can't really just turn him loose in a bedroom, right? He needs to know some things first."
I smiled at him. "You offering to help?"
Zuchter laughed. "Sure. It's the least I owe him after this..." He gestured vaguely at the chocolate bottle.
I grinned. "Okay. Start making a list of what we need to do."
Zuchter looked at the chocolate-stained bedsheet. "First thing is clean up a little."
That Afternoon
Sitting at the conference room table, I felt the excitement billowing inside me. I'd been to several of these meetings, more of them than most boys who come though here. Starting with the one for Leo. But this is the first time it's been for me.
I'd thought about asking Marcus and Zuchter to accompany me, but had decided against it. We'll probably have another meeting for contract signing, and they can come to that. The main reason I'd left them behind was that inviting them would have made it impossible to tell Runner that he couldn't come. And I needed Runner to be absent today.
After all this time, I really wanted to meet the Club member who had bought an option on my services. It would be someone I'd met, but I didn't yet know who, just that he was a male predator. Someone who had decided far in advance that I was the Hanging Boy he wanted to buy, and had paid money to ensure that he would have that opportunity.
I saw the Dean look at his watch. "What time, Sir?"
"He should be here in the next ten minutes." The Dean always insisted that Hanging Boys be in the conference room, waiting, when a prospective client arrived. It assured the client that the boy was there to serve his or her needs.
I decided that meant we had time to get another issue out of the way. May as well do it now, I thought. This was one of the things I didn't want Runner present for. "Sir, could Runner participate in the party Saturday?"
The Dean looked startled. "I think for the present it's sufficient that he watch from outside the room."
"Sir, it really would fit in with what you want us to do with him. Aside from hanging, our most important duty is serving the Club members at parties. Runner himself pointed out that all of us knew something about inter-gender sex when we started here, and that helps all of us share a starting point. He'd be handicapped if he started as a student with zero experience with femmes."
The Dean rested his chin on his hand, his standard thinking-posture. "It's going to be a couple of years, I think, at least, before he reaches the point of being ready for admission. There's plenty of time."
"Yes, Sir, but two things. One is that I won't be participating in any more parties myself, after this one. I know the job of teaching Runner doesn't fall exclusively on me, but I think it's my duty to do as much as I can before I go. The second thing is, this party is special. The crew from the boat who rescued us are going to be there. They're here because I made a promise to them, and because I owe them so much for bringing me back here. But I'm not the only one they rescued from years of an empty, exhausting, painful life. They rescued Runner from that too, and he owes them the same way I do. He doesn't need to try to entertain members. I know he's not ready for that. But we can get him ready to give a guest a freebie. The guests will enjoy it, and he'll learn more from that than from anything we could tell him ourselves. He has to get some hands-on experience..." I grinned. "...so to speak. I'll take care of Captain Greene, and Runner can play host to Rochelle Pellis. This is the only way he can get that experience before he's admitted, without sticking a member with an inexperienced boy — and probably the only time the opportunity will come up."
The Dean was looking down at the doodle he was doing on a notepad. "So the understanding is that he'll service only the woman from the boat crew?"
"Yes, Sir."
"What happens if she doesn't want him?"
I laughed. "Are you kidding, Sir? You've seen him. And wait till you see him in a party outfit."
The Dean smiled, still doodling, and sighed. "You win again. How many is that?"
I laughed again, just as the door opened and Tina said, "Your two o'clock is here."
"Thank you, Tina. Show him in."
I stood respectfully, trying to keep a lid on my excitement as another this-is-it moment arrived. I gasped, my jaw dropping. "Benjamin!! It's you??"
Benjamin stopped in the doorway, blinked at the intensity of his reception, then smiled. "So you'd be willing to let me stage your hanging?"
"Absolutely! When do..." I worked to get a grip on myself. "I'm sorry. You should come in and have a seat." I gestured toward a chair at the table opposite me. Then I remembered that I was a slave, and winced. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be the one who says..." I covered my face, blushing furiously. "I'll shut up now." I sat abruptly. Benjamin sat down across from me.
It sounded like the Dean was laughing. I peeked through my fingers, yes, the Dean was rocking in his chair, his right fist pounding on the chair arm. Cautiously I uncovered my face.
The Dean was still chuckling. "I can't recall seeing quite that reaction before. Should I assume you're willing to consider being owned and hanged by Mr. Smith?"
"Consider? Of course I'd..." I shook myself, trying to get into a more appropriate businesslike attitude. "I guess we need to find out more details, right?" I was a little startled to learn Benjamin's last name after all this time. The subject had never come up before.
Benjamin smiled. "What would you like to know?"
I remembered, at last, the question that had been my top priority coming in. "How many boys can I bring with me?" It was always required that at least one other Academy boy accompany the one being hanged, to set the noose in place, but I was hoping for more than that. "In recent years we've been sending, ummm... two or three."
Benjamin nodded. "Three would be fine. There's enough room in the guest house, if they don't mind sleeping in the same bed."
Guest house, I thought. Cool. "Is that... do you mean three counting or not counting me?"
"Three in addition to yourself. More than that would get a little crowded."
Perfect! I thought. I turned to the Dean, my heart fluttering slightly. This would be the hard part, but I was prepared to argue for it until I got my way. "Sir, I'd like to take Marcus, Zuchter, and Runner." There was no point in asking if Holden or Hamish could be there. Back when he'd sent my letter to Hamish, the Dean had made it clear that he considered Holden to be subject to the rule forbidding any outside contact by First Years. Now that Hamish was here, that would apply to him as well. He had not, to date, said anything about Runner. I was prepared to argue that Runner needed outside experience in the mainland world, to become an Academy student and a Hanging Boy.
From the beginning, I'd dreamed of a hanging exactly like Marshall's. My vision of my hanging included a road trip to the beautiful estate of whomever bought me. But if the Dean refused to let Runner outside, I was prepared to give up that part of my dream and ask for my hanging to be staged on the grounds of the Academy. I didn't want one like Maverick's — I wanted to preserve the uniqueness of Maverick's very special send-off. But if necessary, I would wait for a buyer willing to have the hanging here. I'd made a promise to Runner, and keeping that promise took priority.
The Dean frowned at me. "You want to take Runner?"
"He's not a First Year, Sir."
"Well, of course he's not a student at all, but you know..." He trailed off, looking at me silently for a moment. Then he sat back. "Let's assume I've finished saying why I don't want Runner leaving the grounds, and you've finished explaining why I really do. I think I know what you're going to say. We'll assume you've convinced me as usual. Let's move on." He made a resume-your-conversation gesture toward Benjamin and me.
I could barely think, now, for all the Yes! Yes! Yes! clamor inside my head. I turned to Benjamin with a huge grin. "Ummm... where were we? Oh!! I know! What kind of show do you want me to put on? You know about our various standard scripts, right? Do you want one of those, or will you have one of your own?"
"Ah. Well, I'm leaving that part to my son, Calvin. I'm staging your hanging for him, actually. At present I don't believe the plan really calls for much rehearsal in advance, or anything of that nature. If that changes, I'll let you know."
The parallel with my father buying Marshall for Andrew didn't escape me, but I could tell instantly that Benjamin's son was nothing like Andrew. Benjamin himself was such a sweet person, and when he mentioned his son he radiated nothing but pride... wait a minute. His son?
My brow wrinkled. I could always recall every moment of that first meeting with Benjamin three years earlier, including how he had adapted to his own sexual disability. "Benjamin, how could you have..." I stopped myself, just that much too late, and facepalmed. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me today."
Benjamin laughed. "Wynn, you know better than to worry about offending me on that score. True, I'm not at present physically capable of fathering children. But that wasn't always the case. Calvin recently graduated from college, and I wanted to give him a graduation present. You are the nicest one I could think of."
I laughed; I just couldn't be uncomfortable with Benjamin. "I think that is about the sweetest thing anybody's ever said to me." I decided to change the subject, and turned to the Dean. "Sir, did you know the whole concept of Maverick and me doing a pairs hanging for the members was originally Benjamin's idea?"
The Dean's eyes widened. "No, I did not." He looked at Benjamin. "I can't even begin to tell you how much I appreciate that."
Benjamin waved his hands self-deprecatingly. "I can't really take credit. As I recall, I merely asked Wynn to engage in a fantasy. Turning it into reality was all his doing. With Maverick."
The Dean smiled. "Well, in any case, thank you for setting that idea in motion. Now, when would you want to stage the hanging?"
Benjamin scratched his chin. "I can be fluid on that, but I should think I'll need about a month to get together a guest list, send out invitations, that sort of thing." He turned to me. "Does that give you enough time to finish whatever you need to do beforehand?"
I nodded. "Should we say four weeks from this Saturday? Hangings are most often on Saturdays, that's all I'm thinking. I'm hoping we can set a date now, so I can tell Runner."
Benjamin looked at me curiously. "Who's Runner? Oh, you were talking about bringing him along. That's an interesting name."
I grinned. "He's an interesting boy."
Benjamin smiled back. "Well, four weeks from Saturday it is."
Benjamin and the Dean discussed payment and contracts, but I barely heard them. I felt a fire begin burning inside me — one that I knew would not be extinguished until I myself was. I've got a date for my hanging!! The words ran in a loop inside my head, over and over. I wanted to jump up and down and cheer, turn cartwheels, do something silly. But I contained myself and sat there while the two of them finalized my sale.