So of course it has been a long while since I've published anything on the subject of this fanfiction or any other one of my stories. Of course as I grown older my writing style has changed and possibly, quite possibly it may have matured through experience and a slightly increased vocabulary (but my writing probably has not improved seeing as I haven't done much writing in ages). So my question is, if there is any interest in me continuing back where I left off? Is there still an interest?

I'll post a small chapter addition just to subdue a few of the people who have commented on this after years of not being updated.


And I may mess up in some areas, such as following the story-line correctly. I have re-read it, and I do not have a clue as to some of the hidden secrets I had referred to… This will be fun!

Bakura turned on his back, his eyes slowly opening as sunlight began to creep upon his face. His thoughts were jumbled, and his memory cloudy; it was as if someone gave him a potion to forget his troubles and to just relax. Such an idea was laughable, and provided Bakura a quick grin. The grin faded fast as Bakura began to recognize, or rather not recognize the unfamiliar surroundings. The bed he lay in was clearly much too delicately designed to be his own, and the room too bright to even be remotely familiar.

Taking a deep breath, Bakura began to resurface the memories of what happened the night before with Mariku, Ryou, and… the pleasure slave? Umber eyes darted to the other side of the bed, traveling across the figure that was sprawled between thin copper-colored sheets.

"Fuck…." Bakura muttered under his breath, grabbing the nearest sheet as he wrapped it around his waist. "Fuck everything to hell."

The blonde creature began to stir, yawning ever so slightly as his hands slipped under his veil to rub weary eyes. As his vision began to clear, so did the overwhelming fear lingering at the pit of his stomach surface. Quickly scooting to the edge of the bed, the slave bowed his head in humility. "I-I… I'm so sorry sir… I apologize for my wrong doings…"

"….. Wrongdoings?" Bakura thought aloud, scoffing at the very idea, "what type of wrongdoing have you performed? Perhaps it is customary for people… like you, to wake me up with a fellatio?"

"..What?" The blonde slave gasped, his face beginning to grow hot as the man leered at him, "I… mean, yes… if you so wish my master of this hour."

Laughing to himself, Bakura picked up his clothes off the stone floor, placing his fitted pants on over his bare legs. "I would much rather prefer to know why exactly Lord Mariku sent you to me last evening… Unless he did not send you, and you were just curious as to what a white man looked like underneath his suit."

Malik sat silently, not responding to the questions posted at him. Bakura rolled his eyes, and strolled over to the small-framed boy. Bakura bit his lip, internally debating what more he could say to this boy. There was so much information that he had to keep away from this blasted monarchy, that choosing the right words to even speak around a slave was difficult.

"Do you have a name?"

Shuddering, the blonde answered "I am referred… to as.. slave…"

"I am nearly positive that would not be your name, unless your parents were terribly cruel and chose your occupation while in the womb." Bakura ran his fingers through his tangled mane, as he stared intently at the timid boy who sat at the edge of his bed. "What do the other servants call you?"

"They do not speak to me…. Or rarely do…" his voice dropping into the lightest of whispers "sometimes… they call me Malik.."

"Malik." Bakura repeated, tasting the word on his tongue. A beautiful name for a tempting male.


And should I continue? Its your decision!