She taught me how to kiss one day. I was hers. Unfortunately she couldn’t give herself. Having suffered some unspeakable emotional trauma as a child... she could never entirely love anyone. I moved out west where I hoped to forget her. But I never did I forget Cynthia and her gentle ‘cookie kisses’. I’m almost fifty now, Oh, I’ve been married, for 20 years. To a bitch that never really gave a shit and wouldn’t even kiss me, thought it was dirty, or I was dirty. Only good thing that came from that. “Jason you are a competent freight handle but you’re too ambitious. I can’t afford you.”“I’m willing to work for a freight handler’s pay. What else do you want.”“I’ve found a replacement. I’m dropping you here.”“I’ll never find a ship here. At least let me stay until we hit a better planet.”“We lift in an hour. Pack your bag and be off the ship. You’re dismissed.”So, there I sat on an out of the way planet without a ship and only my savings to live on until I found another. Checking my comp. A couple of days dinner, and my da’s on his own again.But my da is a big, fine man. He don’t sell me off to some barren battle axe who wants to play dolls or worse yet, some perverted buggerer who wants to play with all the parts of a little girl, whether she wants ‘em played with er not. Nor does he sell me to someone who keeps kids in cages to whore out one day. He keeps me as his own kin, which I rightly am, but you knows what I’m a talkin’ ‘bout, as there’s more than a few who don’t do as. But both were false assumptions. I certainly was not in a position to refuse my Master anything, but equally, if not quite as obviously, I was not in a position to offer him anything either. Anything I might once have thought of as mine to do with as I pleased, perhaps to bargain with, to offer as some sort of quid pro quo, had long ago become his by right of ownership. Anything my body or my effort could provide was his, not for the asking but for the taking. So I knelt there open-mouthed not.
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