By Any Means Necessary

The hall where the slave cages were situated at the auction was much cleaner and much lighter than the cellar where Pein had spent the last several years of his life. Not that he was seeing much from his folded position on his knees inside the metal container – only the pristine and cold pale marble tiles of the floor and occasionally the feet in expensive shoes that passed close enough to enter his very limited field of vision. No one stopped even for a second, not bothering to look at him at all – it was as if he did not exist. Of course, he was well-aware why – at thirty-five, he was already far too old to be of any interest to a rich client looking to buy a pleasure slave. Most preferred their meat to be young and fresh – at best in their early twenties, old enough to be well-trained but young enough for their flesh to be still almost unblemished by the lash.

He knew that he had long lost all that, his pale skin littered with the scars of years of brutal use, his entrance not nearly as tight as that of a younger man, form too tired and skinny to be able to compete with the fresher specimens on display here. Or anywhere else, for that matter. The reason why he crouched low in the cage that was too narrow to lie down and too short to stand instead of rot somewhere in a gutter was that the law obligated the auction holders to put him up for sale – all slaves that were given to the trade house by their former masters had to be displayed, regardless of their condition. The ones like him, too old and too scarred to be bought would simply be killed afterwards. Pein knew that it would be his fate too, after the auction was over tonight.

He tried to move his weight from one knee to the other and stretch his aching muscles as much as he was able to in the cramped space – the only time he had been allowed out of the cage for the past week was 20 minutes per day to use the toilet and to wash himself, then was quickly shut in again, still naked and shivering as kneeled against the cold marble floor, the metal grate of the cage digging in his knees and shins.

Pein’s stomach growled and he winced, hoping no one heard – he hadn’t been fed at all after his master dumped him here – the owners of the establishment having figured that spending money for food for a used goods was not necessary, not to mention that he had lived off on water and stale bread for months before that.

He shifted again and sighed, hoping that everything would be over quickly. He wasn’t really scared by the thought of being killed – that meant an end of the constant punishments and humiliation, of the cold and the hunger. The promise of peace actually sounded almost tempting to him – he had resigned himself to his fate. If only he didn’t have to meet it so very hungry.

Sunk deep in his own thoughts, he barely registered it when two pairs of expensive shoes stopped right before his cage.

“Really, Sir, we have much better specimens…” the ingrariating voice of one of the action house representatives brought him out of his reverie and snapped him back to attention.

“Younger and fresher, Sir, this one is to be discarded after the auction ends.”

“Be quiet.” a firm and cold voice interfered the man, as smooth as silk and carrying an unmistakable command. The other immediately shut up and Pein saw him shifting his feet nervously.

“Unlock the cage and make him come out, I cannot take a good look of him as he crouches down there.”

The clerk quickly moved to obey and keys clinked together before the lock was turned and Pein obediently crawled out but remained on his knees, the rest of his body upright so that the buyer could take a good look at his front and eyes kept firmly on the floor. He knew that his front didn’t look much better than his back, if anything, it was maybe worse.

As he stood he could see the buyer up to his chest, dressed in expensive custom-tailored dark suit, his form surprisingly slender and delicate looking.

“Slave. Look up.” The buyer ordered and Pein hesitated, dread and panic twisting in his belly. Looking at the face of any Master was an offense that was severely punishable, and his nerves burned just at the memory of the last time he received such a punishment.

“Look at me.” The man repeated and at the sound of such authority he was helpless to refuse and followed the order, eyes snapping up. His gaze met the other’s and Pein’s breath caught in his throat as he was held captive by the coal black eyes staring down at him with the intensity of an eagle that had just spotted a defenseless rabbit on the ground. He was so fascinated by those eyes that it took him a while to notice the rest – the buyer was a young man, younger than Pein, in his early twenties, silken raven hair held back in a loose ponytail, heart-shaped beautiful face, straight nose, full lips, high cheekbones, truly a work of art.

A small soft hand grabbed Pein’s chin and turned his head from side to side so the man could take a better look at him, the thumb rubbing against the piercings protruding from his lower lip.

“Sir, really…” the salesman began and the man sharply snapped: “I told you to be quiet.” He looked back at Pein:

”What is your name?”

Pein struggled for a moment, trying to remember the forgotten art of talking and then finally croaked out:

“Pein, master.”

“Hmmm.” The young man said and ran a hand through Pein’s ginger tresses. “Open your mouth.”

He obeyed and then the man lifted his lips to take a good look at his teeth, inspecting them like did with a horse.

Finally, he let him go.

“I like him.” He turned to the nervous salesman. “I’ll buy him.”

“But… but, Sir…” the salesman tried to protest only to be cut off again.
“Put my collar on him and send him to my car. I will finalize the payment and then leave as well.”

The other sputtered for a few more seconds, then complied and signaled the guards, one of whom stepped forwards, roughly grabbed Pein by the elbow and dragged him away.

The salesman turned to his client again.

“Uchiha-san, certainly there are prettier creatures here who deserve your attention…”

Itachi smirked condescendingly at him.

“Are you worried that I am buying your cheapest goods when you were hoping I’d go for the most expensive ones?” and he eyed the delicate blond kneeling in a much larger cage at the other end of the hall.

“Don’t worry, I’ll pay you handsomely for the one I am buying now.” And he patted the mousy little man on the shoulder. Finally the other seemed to relax and smiled.

“You are most generous, Uchiha-san.”

Itachi ignored him and handed him his credit card.

“Hurry up now, I wish to go home as soon as possible.”

Twenty minutes later the driver opened the limo door for him and he slid in the cool luxurious interior of the car, relaxing back onto the black leather seats.

The slave was kneeling demurely on the spacious floor, face downcast, hands on his knees, as naked as he had been back in the auction house, the only item on him being the black leather collar with Itachi’s crest on it and the numerous piercings decorating his pale body.

Itachi eyed him for a while, taking in the slender, graceful body, the pale skin covered with innumerable cruel scars, the soft mop of bright ginger hair. He reached and ran his fingers through it, feeling the slave stiffening under his touch, as if he expected the hand to grip a fistful of locks. The Uchiha did no such thing though but continued to pet him for a while, watching the shallow rise and fall of the narrow chest. The slave needed to put on quite some weight, but even the way he was now he was still beautiful.

“Look at me.” He ordered again and Pein did so without hesitation this time, though the fear still lurked in those luminous grey eyes.

“Do you know who I am?” Itachi asked, not unkindly.

“No, Master.” Was the quiet answer.

“My name is Uchiha Itachi. You will refer to me as Itachi-sama for now.”

“Yes, Itachi-sama.” Pein said, just as softly as before.

He had heard of that family name before – one of his previous masters had taken out his frustrations on him using an electric cattle rod every time his company lost economic ground because of the aggressive policies of the Uchiha Corporation. The family was one of the most powerful influences in the country if not the continent and they never failed to remind that to people. And Itachi was the only heir of the main shareholder.

Pein admitted to himself that he was as confused as the salesman as to why a man like the Uchiha would buy a useless slave like him, when he could afford the best goods on the market. For the past ten years he had changed quite a few hands, most of them middleclass salesmen wanting someone on whom they could take out their tension and frustration.

“Well then.” Itachi said. “Let’s see what I have bought.” And the hand in his hair pressed his face forward towards though the fingers still did not grab or pull.

Pein obediently pulled the zipper down with his teeth and pulled away the underwear to uncover his Master’s hardening organ, then gently took it in his mouth, working it with his tongue, his hands tentatively coming to rest on the Uchiha’s inner thighs as he bobbed his head up and down, soft lips spread wide around the erection. He tongued the underside of the hardness and ran his tongue-ring against it, adding to the stimulation as he reached to rub the base of the cock and fondle the heavy balls underneath. Above him, the Uchiha sighed in delight and continued to pet him gently.

Itachi watched down at the slave pleasuring him with heavy-lidded eyes, biting his lip at the sight of his glistening length going in and out the luscious lips, the man’s long, silken, red eyelashes trembling as he sucked him off.

“Look at me.” He ordered yet again and the slave obeyed without any hesitation, locking his eyes on his Master. The look of utter submission drove Itachi over the edge and with a soft gasp he finished in the throat that worked him so expertly, his hand tightening just for a few moments in the ginger hair.

Pein eagerly swallowed all the come, hungry enough to be grateful even for that small nourishment, then gently licked the softening cock clean and tucked him back in his Master’s pants.

Itachi was leaning back against the seat, looking sated and lethargic, a thin sheen of sweat covering his flushed features.

“You’re good.” He murmured and caressed Pein’s cheek.

Soon, the car stopped and the door opened and Itachi gracefully climbed out, then gestured to Pein to follow him. The red-head complied and realized that they were standing before the front gate of a large manor house, the gardens sprawling behind them.

A very large muscular man dressed in fine tailored clothes walked out of the door. Behind Itachi, Pein chanced to take a quick look at him and his eyes widened in awe – he wore the same collar as himself, but he walked with his back and shoulders straight and head held high.

“You’re late.” He said, looking at the Master. “Your dinner is getting cold.”

Itachi snorted.

“And you went to the auction without telling me. I should’ve come with you.”

“You’re like a mother hen, Kisame.” The young man chided.

“And you haven’t eaten since this morning. You know what the doctor said!”

How could he talk to his Master like that and not get flayed alive for his impudence, Pein wondered in shock as he watched the man frown at the Master. Uchiha-sama, it seemed, didn’t care at all because he shrugged.

“It was only a little cough, Kisame.”

“You were in bed for a week.” The man pointed out, expression even more sour. Then he finally noticed Pein and his golden eyes zeroed on the slave. The red-head immediately looked down, forcing himself not to flinch. Itachi turned to point him.

“Get him a room and clothes, please, will you?”

Please…?

Kisame nodded.

“The dinner…”

“I’ll eat it, I’ll eat it, stop nagging.”

Pein’s stomach growled. Loudly. He bit his lip in terror, knowing that such a sound was incredibly impolite and reason to be punished. The huge man, Kisame, stepped towards him and wrapped a large arm around his thin shoulders.

“I think I need to feed him too.” He said gently. Itachi nodded and proceeded into the house.

“What’s your name?” Kisame asked, as he steered him towards the kitchen.

“Pein, sir.” He answered obediently, knowing that he had to treat a high-ranking slave with almost as much respect as the Master himself.

“Just Kisame. Lose the sir part.”

“Yes, Kisame-sa… Kisame.” He quickly said, when the man gave him a warning look.

“When was the last time you ate?”

He paused, then answered.

“About a week ago. Before my master left me at the auction-house.” His stomach growled again and he wrapped an arm around it worriedly as he watched the scowl returning on the chiseled face.

They entered the kitchen and Kisame signaled the cook.

“A bowl of rice for him, Choji. Nothing else, he might not be able to hold it down.”

Rice? They were actually going to give him rice?

While he was still preoccupied with the wondrous thought of being able to eat something that was given only to free men Kisame observed him. The red-head was about his age, maybe a little older, even smaller than Itachi, but while the Uchiha was short because it was a genetic trait, Kisame could tell that this one had remained the way he was because he had been undernourished as a kid.

The bowl of steaming boiled rice and a slice of lemon on top of it arrived and Pein looked up to him hesitantly, asking for permission. Kisame nodded and the man dug in.

“Slower, or you’ll feel sick anyway.” He warned and watched as the other slave immediately slowed down at the order.

Kisame rubbed the thin shoulder, feeling the chilled skin under his fingers.

“You’re freezing. You’ll put some clothes on right after you eat this.”

The red-head looked up in shock.

“Clothes? Me?”

Kisame rolled his eyes.

“Of course. You’re asking as if you’ve never worn any before.

Pein looked at his food and grabbed the chopsticks again.

“I wasn’t allowed to.” He said simply, as if that was the most normal thing in the world.

Disgust and outrage twisted in Kisame’s belly, the old fury against the whole concept of slavery burning up again.

“For how long have you been a slave?” he asked gently.

Pain paused in his eating, obviously counting in his head.

“Ever since I was thirteen.” He said. “My parents died in the war. They had debts… the creditors figured that selling me was the fastest way to have their lost money back.”

“How old are you now?”

That caused an even longer pause.

“Thirty-five.” Pein said finally.

Twenty-two years of abuse, Kisame thought bitterly as he looked at the severely scarred back. He himself had been a sailor up until three years ago, when their small fishing boat was invaded by pirates looking for easy money. After that, he had spent two years under the lash, cleaning the bowels of large commercial ships. The large man rubbed the scar around his throat – the electric collar he had been fitted with had left a lasting impression. Then again, if he had not fought back as much as he did, he wouldn’t have gotten one. However, Kisame didn’t regret his resistance at all, proud that he had held on to his dignity for as long as he had.

Itachi had found him just when he had been ready to break, to give up, in one of those auctions and had bought him. He had removed the electric collar as soon as they had gotten home and Kisame had escaped that very same night. He didn’t go far, the scar gave him away when one of the local children saw it by accident and recognized it for what it was, then called the patrol. He had been whipped within an inch of his life and returned to the Uchiha household. He could still remember Itachi screeching at the officers for harming his slave and then threatening to have them fired. He had done so, Kisame learned later, and had made sure they’d never find work in that city again.

As surprising as it was, he was carefully nursed back to health, Itachi calling the best doctors money could buy and thanks to their expert help, he didn’t even scar as much as it was expected from such a beating. As he learned later, the young man had never reported him missing, apparently in the hopes that he would be able to leave town before he was discovered, as Itachi was incapable of granting him freedom by law.

A lot of Itachi’s household consisted of free people, paid for their services, and whatever slaves there were, the Uchiha had bought them because he hadn’t been able to watch their suffering and do nothing.

It wasn’t the case why Pein had been bought, however. Still, when Itachi got out of the car and Kisame noticed that specific flush on his cheeks, he realized that he had used the man during the drive back home. He knew why he had done it, but it had still been surprising that he had actually gone through with it. Itachi didn’t have the habit of taking advantage of slaves like that.

Suddenly, Kisame realized that Pein had finished the rice and was now sitting obediently next to him, as quiet as a mouse, waiting for him to finish reminiscing. The shoulder under his fingers was ice-cold. He felt guilty.

“Let’s go and put some clothes on you.” He said and got up, pulling him up as well and leading him back through the house to the living quarters. When they reached the room set up for the new slave, Kisame opened the door and led him in, then watched his reaction. Pein was looking around with wide, awed eyes, as if the simple bedroom with a narrow bed, small wardrobe and bookcase and desk was fit for a king. Finally, he turned to Kisame and the larger man thought that he saw fear in the grey eyes.

“I don’t understand…” he said softly.

Kisame cocked an eyebrow questioningly.

“This place… it is for me?”

Kisame nodded.

“All of it?” then he looked towards the bed and continued in a hushed voice “And the bed as well?”

Kisame nodded as well and moved to the wardrobe, opened it and took out simple navy blue shirt, pants and a pair of soft grey house shoes, then handed them to the other man.

“Put these on.”

The man held the items and stared at Kisame, then stared at the clothes then back at Kisame. The large man gestured for him to get dressed. Finally, Pein reverently put the clothes on the bed and the shoes on the floor and carefully slid into the pants, which proved to be a little too wide and a little too long for his slender figure. The next was the shirt, which proved to be a bigger challenged than the pants, his head going into the sleeves a few times before he managed to figure it out and put it on properly. Finally, he stepped into the shoes.

“How do you feel?” asked Kisame, watching him carefully.

It took a little while for Pein to answer.

“Strange.” he whispered and ran his fingers over the warm cotton material of his shirt “Warm.” He added.

Kisame grinned.

“That’s the idea. Now, be good and stay here tonight. The bathroom is at the other end of the hallway, you may use it whenever you want. Itachi-san will call you when he needs you.”

Pein bowed as Kisame left him.

Ten minutes later, he was in the dining hall, watching Itachi eating his soup with a frown.

“Kisame, the food will go bad just from your stare.” The younger man admonished with a small smile.

“I didn’t expect that he’d be that broken.” Kisame said softly. Itachi swallowed his morsel and looked at his lover.

“How bad is it?”

“He was sold twenty-two years ago. Apparently has been used as a fucktoy and a punching bag for a very long time.”

Itachi looked down at his dish, suddenly losing appetite.

“You disapprove that I had him in the car.”

“Of course I do!” Kisame answered sharply and at Itachi’s sad expression his voice softened.

“I know that you had to check whether he could put on a show or not… I just… I am not used to you doing that sort of thing… with slaves.” Itachi looked at him suspiciously.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, I am not jealous and you know it.” Kisame snapped and rubbed the bridge of his nose, then sighed.

“He would provide excellent cover though. He’s perfectly trained for that sort of environment.”

Itachi nodded.

“I figured so.” Then took another bite of his bread. “There were younger, prettier ones there… but I just couldn’t leave him. You should’ve seen him, Kisame. He was like an animal, he barely fit into that cage. And they were going to kill him after the auction, if no one bought him.”

Kisame nodded.

“I figured as much.” He reached and covered Itachi’s small hand with his own large one.

“You do realize that you’d have to be sure that he can do the whole show before you take him to one of those places, right?”

Itachi nodded.

“Let him feel a little more comfortable and safer here, then we’ll call him to my room.”

“We?”

“I figured he’d feel more secure if there’s another slave in the room and sees that I haven’t harmed you.” Itachi pointed out and Kisame nodded.

“I understand.”

“For now, if he can read and write, ask him to help Shikamaru to catalogue our library. It’s a mess there.”

Kisame nodded.

“And if he can’t?”

“Send him down to the kitchen and begin teaching him when he’s free of chores.”