Page 57 of Under His Heel

He sulked while they made their way off the ship. Tracht gave no indication of caring, which pissed Alex off even more.

Finally, two blocks away from the ship, Alex whined, “Come on. You said you liked me! I don’t want to go to some stupid party with people like you and Singh.”

Tracht sighed very loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alex. I also clearly remember telling you that my affection for you came with a desire to see you continue to suffer. Now, behave, or the rest of tonight will go a lot less pleasantly for you.”

Whatever. Alex scowled and refused to talk anymore. Seemed like Tracht would use anything he said against him anyway.

The walk toward the shopping center was as pleasant as on any station. Artificial lights gave the semblance of an early afternoon, and people milled around. Alex noticed the bondservants a lot more now than he did the last time he’d been on Atalanta. Something about the collars stood out to him. He wondered if they were saddled with BS bondholders like Tracht, or if some bondholders were actually normal people.

This part of the station was pretty well-maintained too. When Alex and Nick had arrived, they’d needed the cheapest accommodations they could afford. Those tended to be on the lower levels, where light was kept dimmer and everything was closer to the central engine. Some people complained about the vibrations from the engine, but Alex had grown up with it, and he rarely noticed it unless pointed out.

The first place Tracht took him to was a salon. He got the haircut and a facial scrub and then, of course, Tracht insisted they wax him all over too.

“Every last inch,” Tracht insisted. “I don’t want any hair below his chin.

Those were a painful two hours. Alex ended up clutching Tracht’s hand and gritting his teeth through the pain, but at least it wasn’t an epilator. He didn’t like how the staff manhandled him into place so they could get at his crack, he felt stupidly raw, and fuck, even though he was mad at Tracht he was grateful enough when it was over that he didn’t try to evade the kiss.

“Mm. Much better,” Tracht proclaimed.

The next stop, confusingly, was a men’s suit store.

Even from the outside Alex could tell it was extremely high class; when he took a closer look at one of the suits on display, he couldn’t find a price tag anywhere. Nick would have been salivating just being inside this place.

Tracht greeted the store attendant with some level of familiarity. Knew his name and everything, so probably Tracht came to this place often enough.

“I need a suit for my companion here,” Tracht explained. “No need for anything tailored, I’m afraid I don’t have time for that, but your best fit that’s available now.”

That was how Alex got a suit that probably cost more than an entire year’s rent. Not just the suit, of course, a good dress shirt and socks and shoes and even underwear were all supplied. Between the suit and the new haircut, Alex ended up looking borderline respectable. Even the scar and the broken nose were more of a character feature now. Though the hickeys Tracht had left on his neck were still visible, as was the bondservant’s collar.

“Clothes really do make the man,” Tracht commented with a pat to Alex’s ass. “Yes. We’ll take all of this. And he’ll wear it out.”

Tracht paid for everything, had Alex’s old clothes shipped back to the ship, and then led them farther into the station.

They ended up in front of a high-end hotel. Tracht greeted the receptionist and walked past her to the elevators, hitting the button for the top floor.

As soon as the door opened Alex was greeted by some amazing scents. His eyes widened a bit as he realized they were at the hotel’s restaurant, high up enough that the windows were displaying outer space instead of artificial sky.

“What? Why?” Alex stumbled after Tracht.

The hostess smiled prettily at Tracht. “Captain Tracht! I saw your reservation pop up and was so glad to see you were in town again. How was your trip?”

“Fine, thank you. I am quite relieved to be back on Atalanta and able to partake of civilized meals.”

She giggled and led them to a table by the window. The view was fantastic: the wide expanse of space above and the glittering lights of the station on its night cycle below. The table had a table cloth and gleaming utensils on it, as well as cloth napkins and a small vase with flowers of some sort in it.

Alex felt really awkward as he sat down at the table. The suit he wore was a small comfort—nobody would know at first glance that he was extremely out of place—but even so he had the sense that he was being judged.

Tracht thanked the waitress and took the menus from her, completely unselfconscious. Well, if Tracht didn’t care, there was no reason for Alex to care. He sat up straighter and smiled at the hostess; she smiled back briefly but kept her words focused on Tracht.

When she was gone, Alex asked again, “Why are we here?”

“Because,” Tracht said with a laugh, “I truly expected you to choose the restaurant, Alex.”

Alex tensed in horror. “I chose wrong?”

“No. Simply not the choice I expected. I wanted to take you to out to dinner; I decided I would do it anyway. So, in a way, you made the best choice for yourself.”

The conversation was interrupted by the waitress coming by with water for their fancy glasses. “Have you had a chance to look at the menu, sir? Perhaps I can start you off with an appetizer?”

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