We got back home with the twins with no further incident. I was thankful for that. The drama that played out at the tailor's shop. Well. I'd seen worse. It just never hit home before.

First thing there Radam, my father, instructed them to place their clothes on the counter. He cut me off before I could even utter a word, saying, "Market in Easha is in two weeks. That, and maybe a day or two more, is all the time we will be able to train them in. You've seen how hard it is on a slave who is ill prepared for their life."

I just sighed and lowered my head. He was right, he damn near always was.

One of the boys said in a hushed voice, even for them, "it's ok Kaust." Which was it, Tom? Tim?

They were my best... ok, only friends. And even I could not tell them apart. After a while of knowing them I began to suspect, and finally asked, and they admitted to making it difficult on purpose. It was a game they had played since they realized that their appearance was something unusual. By now it was so ingrained in them that sometimes I wondered if they knew which was which.

Once they told me that their mother thought she could tell them apart. Because they would always pretend to be the one she thought they were. They said it made her happy, so they always had played along.

Anyway, I didn't mind.

While pondering that they were undressing again, and this time I tried to look at them as a slaver. I didn't succeed very well, to be honest. Watching my best friends commanded to strip like a common slave, standing there looking embarrassed as all hell. It was difficult. I did, though, notice that they didn't cover themselves this time. Both of them kept their hands at their sides like my father had asked them to earlier that day.

It was a good sign. Learning quickly and obedience in the face of personal discomfort made a slave's life much easier in the long run.

Then I saw something else. Or, to tell the truth, finally admitted to myself the truth as they stood before us carefully inspecting the ground at their feet. I thought they were the most attractive things I had ever seen. The fact that again they had grown noticeably aroused didn't help, and the desires made me very uncomfortable with myself.

I mean, what sort of monster did that make me?

At the time my father was explaining to them that a slave in public would be granted some clothing normally, and they would get such for traveling, but that they were for now to remain nude. They had to get as comfortable that way as they could, because it would be expected of them often, including the day of the sale.

They nodded, and one of them said, "ok."

Father said to them, "You will address free people as sir or ma'am, as appropriate, and your owner as Master or Mistress. As of tomorrow, when I get the papers back with his Lordships' seal on them, I will be your master until you are sold. You also will be collared at that time. Do you understand?"

I tried to suppress the cringe at the mention of the collaring. It had to be done, but the idea of putting one around each of their necks made my stomach churn.

They answered in unison, "Yes Master" in quite but clear voices. I found myself thinking that they would make someone very happy. I just hope that the kindness was returned to them. One could never be sure when you sold a slave what their fate would be.

I was shaken out of my thoughts by my name. "Kaust, show them to the slave quarters, we have work to discuss. This will change our plans for the trip some. I'd like to leave tomorrow evening."

That was several days early, but then I realized why. I don't think any of us would want to be in town the next few days. I nodded and showed them to the back.

This close to market we had no one back here, and the place was spotless. There were bunks along one wall, and a bared window. The door was heavy and locked. We mostly bought slaves at market and sold them before the crops were planted. We did a second run later in the year to pick up more specialty slaves. This was one of those times.

I let them pick a bunk, and I gave them an extra blanket, and sat down by them on the bunk, and told them to try and get some rest because we were going to have a lot of teaching and travel ahead of ourselves.

Then they hugged themselves to either side of me. I laied my arms around them, and rested a hand on their bare shoulders. It sent a shiver up my spine to feel their fur under my fingerpads. I found myself caressing them gently, and they just squeezed tighter to me. The lump in my throat nearly made me choke.

We parted with out a word, and I went back to see my father, locking the door behind me.

An hour or so later we finished discussing both the belt tightening we would have to do because of this, and the travel arrangements. At times like this, he treated me as a business partner. Not because I was his son, but because I had proven myself. I didn't have his experience, but I had a knack for the trade. It gave me a little pride, even in this dark hour.

The office was on the second floor across the hall from the little window that peered down into the slave quarters. The window was placed such that in most light it was impossible to really see who or if someone was watching. If you even noticed the window in the first place. The insight this gave us on some of our merchandise had proven invaluable in the past.

As we came out, I heard a sound from down there, and curious went to look. My father was right behind me as I pulled the heavy drape aside a little to see what was going on.

My jaw hit the floor. It felt like that anyway. I at least had the presence of mind not to make a sound at what I saw. Any lingering doubts about how the brothers felt about each other was certainly put to rest as I watched them slowly and tenderly make love.

It wasn't what they were doing that was shocking. They were mostly just rubbing together and caressing each other, clearly with the intent of bringing the other to climax. No, it was how expressive the two were of their love. How pure it was. The way they kissed, and the tenderness of their touch.

I probably would have gawked there the entire time as they moved into a sixty nine position on their sides and went down on each other, but my father tugged me away and back into the office.

"You know, if I could show the customers that, I could get them a place in a palace. It's almost enough to make me like men."

I barked out, "Father!" then covered my muzzle. If I kept that up they would hear me down there even through the door and drape. Getting my voice under control, I said, "How can you say that about them?"

He snorted at me, and he said, "you hardly have any place to talk. Have you looked at your pants?" I just lowered my head in shame at those words. He was right.

"You've been lusting after them for at least a year, I can't believe you never saw it." he sighed, and said in a gentler tone. "Son, they need you. Your going to need to swallow that guilt down, and show them how you feel."

I stammered out, "what the hell are you talking about?" Looking back, I think that was the rudest thing I had said to my father in years. Any other time and he would have belted me a good one for it, too.

He did, however, growl at me, and bare a hint of his teeth. That shut me up quick enough.

"You saw them. They have the passion, but I'd bet a years profit they never have been with another. Now, would you rather they learn from you, or after they are sold to some stranger?"

I found myself studying the floor very closely before he forced me to look at him again. The anger was gone, though, replaced by one of the more tender looks I had seen on his face. "Son... tonight is the last night you can face them as an equal. Tomorrow, they will wear a collar. If you go to them tonight, the next few weeks the person training them will be their friend and lover, who became their master. If the first time you lay your hands on them, and you WILL lay your hands on them, is tomorrow, it will be as their master, who once was their friend. Do you understand me?"

I choked on my words several times before I said meekly, "yes, Father."

I suppose in retrospect this seems like a bizarre thing to hear a father saying to his son, "go have sex with your best friends." Really, it made sense at the time.

I stopped at my room, and took off my shirt and kicked off my boots before I went back to the slave quarters. Enough to give them some bare fur to touch, and yet dressed enough to be less threatening. It was calculated, I admit.

I am, after all, my father's son.