Midnight awakened, as he did every morning, to the sound of his Master’s voice.  He yawned and stretched his feline body out across his low cot.  His supple bones clicking as he woke his muscles.  That felt good.

He rubbed his golden eyes to dismiss the sleep from them and looked around the dorm he shared with the other young slaves.  Spots of the summer dawn were cast on the walls and floor as it trickled in through the high windows.  The squares of warm light playing over the beautiful bodies (Master didn’t breed any ugly slaves) of his bunkmates as they prepared for the day ahead.  Their silver coronets glittering as they passed through the light.

His fellow slave boys were just as naked as he was, but that didn’t bother Midnight.  He was far too young to have such desires himself, though he was assured by Master that they would come one day.  It seemed paradoxical that one who was brought up as a domestic slave could remain innocent while gaining the sexual experience of a free boy five times his age, but Midnight simply saw his body as a tool for bringing pleasure to others.  It was a part of his job, and, while it felt good to him too, it wasn’t something he would initiate on his own.

Secretly Midnight worried about the ‘desires’ that were promised to come.  Once he felt them he would be taken from his friends and sent to live in the older slaves dorm.  He was told this was as much for their good as his own, but the thought of such a big change to the way things had always been (save for the brief, now-forgotten period of his life when he had lived in the nursery) twisted his stomach.

He rubbed the slave crown on his forehead absently as he always did when he was nervous.  Master said it was so; Master was good, right and just; Therefore there was nothing for Midnight to worry about—it would happen and everything would be fine.

Time to get up—he was on wake-up duty today—he couldn’t be late.  The kitty boy’s feet padded across the floor into the adjoining shower room, his mind still lost in his musings until the first drops of warm water splashed against his back.  The room started to steam up as Midnight and friends lathered up and showered off repeatedly—getting themselves ready for their Master and the day ahead of them.

The shower room, like the dorm, was quiet and efficient.  Not that a few friendly words weren’t exchanged between the young slaves, but they were all focused on their shared goal: serving their master to the best of their ability.  They couldn’t be otherwise.  The slave crowns on their heads made sure of that.

Like Midnight they too could hear Master’s voice calling them—guiding them throughout their day—and, like Midnight, they had worn the crown their entire lives.  To the point that none of them could imagine what it would be like not to have that voice that wasn’t their own speaking to them and monitoring their thoughts—critiquing their performance and their motivations.

Still, they weren’t identical by any means.  Midnight had only to glance over his friends’ naked bodies to confirm that.  The slave boys came in every species and coat.  Dogs, Foxes, Wolves, Rabbits, Otters and more shared the dorm with Midnight.  All the coats typical of their species were present along with a few atypical ‘exotic’ patterns or colours (Master was a collector and a concusser as well as a talented breeder Midnight reminded himself).

The young kitty-cat towelled himself off briskly—making his fur puff up.  Really the only thing that they all had in common was their love and devotion for Master.  Midnight felt he was exceptionally lucky to be who he was.  There were only so many slaves who could be controlled at once by a single person.  It depended on a lot of factors, distance and the temperament of the slaves among them, but really it boiled down to the skill and will power of the one who held the ‘masters charm’.  Master was very strong and very skilled, but even the 300 year old Marquess could only control a finite number directly.  Midnight felt honoured to be in that number.

He slipped out of the shower room and took a seat in front of Twinkle-Toes, a tan-furred Rabbit, so he could brush Midnight’s fur into something respectable.  Twinkle had been born into Master’s service eight years previously.  One look at the bunny kit’s big mits and wriggling tootsies had been enough for his Master to bestow the name on the then-week-old kit.  Twinkle had grown into his feet somewhat since then, but they were still cute and pudgy.

Midnight purred as Twinkle set about giving him a full body brush.  The bunny wasn’t the best boy ever to pull grooming duty but he was trying his damnedest.  He made every stoke of the brush through Midnight’s soft fur as sensual as he could.  His free paw hovered over the kitty boy’s fur.  He gently guided Midnight’s body into the correct positions with light touches and barely felt caresses.

Midnight sighed as he melted into his fellow slave’s grooming.  Despite his lack of desires his little sheath still swelled slightly.  Midnight had to ask Twinkle-Toes to go easier on him.  He wasn’t immune to such a sensual assault, and he suspected that he wasn’t meant to be.  He was certain the grooming procedure was designed to be as arousing as possible.  It would be just like Master to do that.

Excusing himself, Midnight made room for the next boy.  He gave his friend a kiss on the top of his head as he walked past.  Smiling at the pleased giggle it elicited.  He pulled his black, silk panties from their place in the  wooden box under his bed.  The garment was much closer to a string bikini bottom than to panties and was standard issue for all of Master’s young male slaves.  Midnight slipped his heavy young sheath into the garment (fortunately his cock hadn’t broken past the lips of his sheath yet so he wasn’t showing any ‘pink’) and clipped the tassels on either side tightly in place with a pair of ivory clips in the shape of cow skulls.

With his entire ‘indoor’ uniform (his fur and his panties) seen to, Midnight set off to wake his master.  The cow skulls were Master’s emblem of course.  Putting down the Bovine unrest on the borders of his territory two hundred years ago had been the proving moment for the Marquess Loue.  Master had remained a firm favourite of the king since then, and his power at court had only grown.  

The black-furred kitten-slave walked out of the dorm his rear swaying as he walked.  Two others joined him silently—flanking him—an otter and another cat (a tortoise shell).  Their first stop was to the kitchen where a number of older slaves (the average age of the kitchen slaves was thirty, but that was only because they had just got a new sixteen year old novice to drag their score down).  Unlike their three prepubescent visitors, they wore sensible clothing including aprons.  There was no reason for these slaves to risk a spill or to sacrifice hygiene by enforcing the same uniform on them.  The only items that the two groups of slaves had in common were their slave crowns, which they had all worn since entering Master’s service.

Midnight himself had had his crown bonded to his forehead before he had spoken his first word.  Although he didn’t remember it, he had fussed for days at the alien presence in his mind.  That instinct was quickly curbed not through force or any form of mental violence but by simple repetition of an order over and over.  The one wearing a slave crown could usually tell which thoughts were their own and which were foreign—the ‘flavour’ was different—but ignoring it outright was as impossible as ignoring your own mental voices, and, if you let your attention lapse, it was easy to fall into doing the voice’s bidding as if it *were* your own.

A few words were exchanged by the slaves.  Mostly respectful ones from the youngsters to their elders.  Some kind ones for the whipper-snappers from the adults.  Trays of food changed hands then it was off again.

They climbed up the stairs to the ground floor landing.  Emerging from the hidden nook in a dark corner of the hall.  Their feet sinking into the now-richly-carpeted floor with each step they took.  They ascended the main staircase.  Heading for Master’s room.

The ‘upper’ floors were all grandly appointed.  Master was rich.  His home was to both comfort him and to impress his peers.  The rooms were filled with treasures both functional and beautiful (though not always both at once).  The slave’s floors were not dungeons by any means but these floors were heaven.

Master never lied to Midnight about how lucky he was to be a house slave, and His house slave at that.  As a house slave Midnight was allowed to live in what was essentially a palace.  He was warm, clean and well fed.  An unhealthy house slave was a displeasing house slave, so owners looked after them.  Labourers were out of sight and out of mind.  No one cared about them really.  They were just numbers in a profit-loss equation.

One day when he was very young Midnight had been selected to attend Master for the day.  While they were travelling to the city council so Master this younger Midnight glanced out of the coach window and witnessed a labourer being lashed by his slave supervisor.  As he watched the labourer scream out invectives and claw at the drit with every touch of the single-tail the innocent kitten had opined that the slave in question must have been pretty ungrateful to misbehave after all his masters had done for him.

When they got home that evening Master had sat Midnight on his knee (a rare treat these days) and explained to him how many owners lied to their house slaves, either explicitly or simply by omission.  He had patiently gone through the reasons for such deceptions.  They wanted their house slaves, the ones they were in contact with most of their day, to believe that they suffered just as much as the labourers.  The reason?  Love.  They wanted *all* of their slaves to love them.  Not as the result of training or coercion, but of their own free will.

Master called it self deception.  Those ‘owners’ (Master hadn’t been able to, or hadn’t wanted to, keep the disdain from his voice) deceived their slaves in order to deceive themselves.  They wanted to hear their house slaves defend their ‘benevolent’ rule.  They wanted their slaves to tell them *honestly* that the labourers were just ungrateful for their lot.

Midnight had nodded his five year old head sagely as he absorbed every word his Master uttered.  It wasn’t the deception that was bad, the kitten had learnt, it was the *self* deception that mattered.  In their deepest most secret heart of hearts those owners were ashamed to be owners.  They refused to look honestly at their actions, at the consequences of their actions—unlike Master.  That was what made him *Master* he had explained to the young Midnight. Conviction.  He was willing and happy to do what they did reluctantly and half heartedly.

Midnight knew Master had believed every word he had spoken sincerely and truly.  The kitten had had Master’s voice in his mind his entire life.  He new it as well as he knew his own—perhaps better.

With that thought the trio reached the door to the main bedroom.  Midnight, still in the lead, put his hand on the handle and waited a second.  The metal beneath his paw warmed to let him know the magic had identified and would grant him access.  He twisted the handle and walked in.  Master lay in bed, asleep, next to a lioness in her late teens.  

The tawny lioness smiled at them, and they smiled back.  She was a slave like them, and much liked by them as she went out of her way to help the younger slaves.  They had a brief silent conversation with hand gestures and expressions, while the she slipped out of the bed (being careful not to disturb her lover and Master) and gathered he clothes.  The upshot of which was that Master had fallen asleep in a good mood and would probably be happy to see them now.

They waited while she slipped quietly into the corridor—her clothes still bundled up in her arms.  Her pointy a-cup breasts and trimmed pubis exposed without a shred of embarrassment or discomfort.  His voice as much in her thoughts as it was in any other slave’s.

Only once she was gone did Midnight clamber up onto the bed.  Master had a rule: experience in the evenings and innocence in the morning.  He preferred to fall asleep with a beautiful and talented slave of sixteen to twenty five, and wake to an innocent but eager slave of six to fifteen.  That was the reason the switch had to happen before Master woke.

Midnight pulled the covers back gently to reveal his Master’s bare body.  The Marquess Loue was a Rabbit.  An orange Rabbit with small sporadic patches of white.  He was three hundred and seventeen but physically he looked like he was in his early thirties and in very good shape.  His body was lean and hard looking all muscle and bone.  He had a thick ruff of fur around his chin and chest which framed his harsh face.

The black cat between his thighs gazed up at him lovingly.  This was his Master and there was no more beautiful sight in the world to him.  He started to stroke his Master’s thick sheath with his small paws.  His fingers were barely able to meet around the soft organ.  He knew once master was hard there would no way his paws could encircle it.

Being chosen for the wake-up roster was a great honour.  Midnight knew he was pretty, and that helped him get chosen for duties like this.  Master’s sheath swelled underneath his palms.  It was unfair but Master’s desires were what mattered not fairness.  The thick cock head poked free of its warm home.

Midnight suspected he would still be pretty enough when he was a teen to be chosen for the evening roster but that was by no means certain.  He could smell his Master’s musk already starting to fill the air.  What Midnight hoped for more than anything was that master would decide that he was one of the few slaves who would be prettiest in his youth, and that he would cast an age-halt on him so that he would remain this way for the rest of his life.

Master stirred.  His cock was half out now.  Midnight focused on the present.  Quickly he ducked down and took his Master’s thick member into his mouth and started to suck on it.  Before Master had opened his eyes he made sure that the edge of the blanket was laid out over his ears and that he was gazing upwards wide-eyed and innocent.  Master wouldn’t think for a second that the pose wasn’t contrived, but he also wouldn’t mind.  He would know that Midnight only went to the effort because his slave boy loved him.  He would know Midnight was acting cute to please him.

The kitty cat’s thoughts were validated a second later when his Master spoke in his wonderful deep voice. “Good morning Night.”  He ruffled the quilt above the suckling slave’s head.  “You look adorable today.”

Midnights cock almost jumped from its hidey hole.  Master was pleased with him.  He felt the powerful adult cock throb in his muzzle.  Tasting the first strand of thick, heady pre on his tongue.  He smiled impishly up at his Master to show his affection (which was impressive with a mouth stretched as his was, but somehow boys can manage that) and started to give head in earnest.

Midnight’s companions took this as their cue to serve their Master breakfast in bed.  They fluffed up his pillows and set up their tray up just in front of the kitten’s bobbing head.  Midnight was mindful not to brush the edge of the tray as the Otter boy added the steaming milk to his Master’s oats and spooned in two generous spoonfuls of lightly spiced honey.

“Thank you boys.  You can start drawing my bath now.”  The Marquess rumbled as he sent them to their tasks.

He moaned lightly as he lifted a muslin-wrapped brass decanter of coffee to his lips.  The moan hadn’t escaped his lips.  The Marquess Loue was not one to lack such self control.  Rather he had allowed himself the pleasure of a long low moan as he enjoyed the attentions Midnight was heaping on his engorged member.

Midnight’s small body was coated in sweat.  He felt the raw power of his Master all about him—from his hard muscular legs to his dominating musk—it was intoxicating to the young slave.  The pole of flesh in his mouth deposited its pre-orgasmic juices in him as if they belonged there.  As if Midnight’s role in the grand scheme of everything was simply to hold his Master’s emissions.   If it was the kitten was content to stay here for the rest of his life.

Master’s cock was so powerful—so dominant.  Through it he could feel the pulse of his Master’s heart.  The heartbeat was strong and getting more powerful with each passing second.  The tube of flesh jumping against Midnight’s stretched lips as he played with the Rabbit’s heavy balls—masculine balls, large and fertile.  The kitten rubbed them and knew that he could never aspire to be even a tenth as powerful as Master.

His own little member bucked and throbbed inside its silk prison.  Responding to the excitement the boy felt.  The excitement that filled him body and mind.  It felt small and weak when compared to the massive member he was servicing.  Servicing!  He was in service to Master.  In service to Master’s cock.  He was a weak little cock slave and—

Master came.

Midnight tried to drink all the seed down as Master’s cock pulsed in his maw.  He drank feeling honoured to be given his Master’s life force.  The cum was even more thick and pungent than the pre had been.  If this had been Midnight’s first time and he hadn’t been offered small samples of Master’s cum from the age of three he might have choked on it.  As it was the only reason he wasn’t keeping up with it was that he wanted to taste the flavour of it, as much as possible, before swallowing.  He wanted to enjoy the texture and the feel as he swirled the seed about.

Finally (though far too soon for Midnight) it was over.

“Come here.”  The Marquess gestured at the spot beside his bed.

Midnight obeyed the order at once and with unthinking devotion.  He didn’t care that his cock was still at full mast and tenting his black panties.  He wouldn’t have cared if he was stark naked.  He lived to serve—utterly and absolutely.

“I’m not sure if I like this or not.”  The Rabbit observed in his rumbling voice.  He scrutinised his pet closely picking up a napkin.  “I’m not sure if I want you wearing my seed all day or not.”

Midnight realised some of Master’s seed must have escaped him.  He felt a twinge of guilt but Master seemed more amused than anything, and seemed to be genuinely considering keeping it there for the day.

“I suppose it is best not to.”  The Marquess decided with a sigh.  He rubbed the jizm off briskly with the serviette.  “Tell me Midnight…would you like to be my attendant for the day?”

Midnight’s heart leapt in joy.  Of course he said yes, and, as Master clipped the day-leash to his collar, he reminded himself that, just as the voice always said, he really was the luckiest slave in the word.