I Must Be Crazy For Dreaming Of You (Or Someone Like You) - 3
You think I'm cruel, don't you?
The room is bustling with people: masters and their slaves, high rollers, anyone invested in the Underground. Anyone that could get an invitation to such a gathering. One where slaves could openly wear collars and other objects that told one at a glance that they were property and were to be treated as such. If one could get permission from their owner that is.
She was surprised that Vossler hadn't done such a thing yet, but he seemed content sitting back in his chair for now, talking to a group of masters that were eyeing her like a piece of cake. For whatever reason he wasn't encouraging them to lift up her short dress; to see she wore nothing underneath.
Maybe it was because he wasn't holding the event, because this wasn't about him torturing her as he usually favored. But it was simply those gazes he was concerned with, sliding over her body, figuring out the exact shape underneath her dress. He could be planning to invite this group for the next time he held one of his own parties, to watch them fuck her like all the rest.
Yes, that seemed to be it. She was just something for them to stare at, for the other masters to be envious of. An object of high value in Vossler's collection, a man that was known to share his pets with those that simply asked. Unless - on the extremely rare case - that he hated a person.
If she could just wrap her fingers around his throat like he had done to her so many times, make him beg for her not to squeeze just that much tighter.
It was only about a minute later that she realized she had been staring at Vossler's neck, that he had seen where her gaze was. The corners of his lips twitched up when her gaze shifted an instant later and she had to silently assure herself that he wouldn't do anything rash in front of all these people. Surely doing anything like he did in his own property wouldn't be seen as proper etiquette here? At a gathering like this.
He probably wasn't ever going to let her come back to one of these if he saw that spark of relief in her eyes when he simply motioned her over to him. If he knew that this place actually made her feel safe for even a moment. "Yes, master?" she asked, keeping her expression fixed into that frightened wondrous look that he seemed to be enjoying for the past hour.
"Krista, why don't you go to the refreshment table and get me something to drink? It's right down the hall there, in the room to the right. Remember your manners." Vossler had phrased the command like a question, but she knew better than to ask if it was or not. To ask what exactly he wanted. He would be having the same bottled alcohol that he had at the house.
She inclined her head toward him, a small bow that didn't require her to get on her hands and knees. He couldn't possibly ask her to do that here, could he? "Yes, master. I'll be back with your drink soon."
The moment she turned away she knew he wouldn't be in that exact seat when she got back. He would move and make her wander around aimlessly to find him, to interact with the other masters, not their slaves. Never their slaves. She wasn't suppose to talk to them unless circumstances were dire - whatever that meant, maybe if she was in a life or death situation; Vossler had probably just said that as a joke on the road here.
Right, just another of his sick jokes. So she should avoid talking to another slave at all costs.
She just needed to watch her tongue, then; make sure she didn't mess up the proper etiquette when talking to another master. Anyone that didn't have a collar or otherwise around their neck - or any other body part.
Vossler had told her how to behave the whole way here, periodically quizzing her on what he had just said a minute or even ten minutes ago to make sure the rules had been pounded into her skull. She could recall each lesson clearly even now, having recited the words back to him so often - the trip had lasted an hour.
"All male masters are to be referred to as, sir. You will address any mistresses as, madam. Got that? No other terms are to be used. I am the only one you call, Master. Is that clear? Good. Very good.
"Now, I don't need to tell you not to give your name to any of these people when introducing yourself, do I? Your mine and that's all they need to know. I will use your name when I want you to do something. If anyone else ends up using your name after learning it when I use it you are not to do what they ask of you. You say, 'I'm sorry, but I don't have permission from my master to do that.' And then follow up with, 'If it pleases you I can ask my master for permission to do that.' You will only fulfill their request if I've given you permission. And by permission I mean the actual words, 'You have my permission to do whatever that Master is asking of you.' Not a nod of the head or anything else obscure that's meant for someone else when I'm talking. You enter the building with me and you leave with me. No exceptions.
"I expect you to be on your best behavior, Krista. In the case that another slave is trying to talk or interact with you I want you to bring the matter up with their master. I can assure you that no slave at this gathering is to talk to another without explicit permission from their Master. Which goes for you as well. I don't want you talking to another slave, got it? 'Yes, yes.' Is that all you know how to say? Do I need to breathe some life into you? Breshka, add some color to her cheeks for Maria's sake.
"I know you're still in there, Krista. If I didn't do you think you would be here now? Oh, never mind. Just know that if you break any of these rules I'm loaning you to the whorehouse for a week and that I won't be there to stop them from fucking you properly. You have no idea how lucky you are."
She wanted to spit on him. Lucky? She was no such thing. Especially if she broke one of those rules - if he learned of it. No, no. That wasn't the way to think. She couldn't afford to break any of his rules and besides, he had said that all slaves here had been told the same thing. That they were all following the same rules so if she stepped even a toe out of line and another slave saw her he would learn of it from their Master. Maybe not right away, but he would know. And then he... he would loan her.
Her lip nearly split open when she bit down on the flesh that had been painted a bright pink with the lipstick Breshka had used on them. Breshka had used many contents from bottles - some a thin mist, others an almost oily substance, among a few - on her skin and hair, especially her face. Vossler had said it was to make her more appetizing to the others that would be at the gathering.
She wished she could rub it off or that another slave would mess up in their duties, like trip and throw a drink onto her face so she would have a sufficient excuse to rub it all off. So she wouldn't feel so many gazes on her, so their eyes didn't make her feel so dirty.
Sending another prayer up to Maria didn't help in the least of course. The Goddesses never answered her prayers.
As she turned the corner to the room with the refreshments, barely holding in a huff, she noticed the person in front of her too late. She yelped the instant she landed sprawled out on the floor, a flare of pain running up and down her spine. And she heard a curse a second later from above her, eyes snapping open to see a man pressed against the wall glaring down at her with a pair of daggers.
The apology that had been on her lips a second ago now died there as she stared up at him. She didn't bother looking for a collar or anything else that would signify a slave. There was no way someone using that tone just now could be a slave.
"-has got to be the most clumsy slave I've ever met." He paused in his scolding of her, staring right back at her for a few seconds before demanding, "Are you going to say sorry or not? What's your name? Speak before I have to check if you even have a tongue."
Her throat closed up for a second at his words, so harsh against her ears, but quickly managed a, "Sorry, sir. It's my fault-"
"I'm aware of who's fault it is. What the hell is your name?" He pushed off from the wall, now standing without it's support as he gazed down at her, with eyes that consisted of a steely gray.. His hair was black, in a cut that Breshka had referred to as an undercut and even though he appeared to be only an inch or two taller than her it didn't stop a shiver from running down her spine. Was he going to tell Vossler of this mishap? Had anyone else seen it?
She had to force herself not to check if anyone else was in the vicinity and slowly got up to her feet. "I am Vossler's pet."
The man let out a snort at these words, his glare only cutting deeper into her. "I didn't ask who your owner was. I asked for your name."
Her heart clenched as she ran Vossler's words through her mind once again. He hadn't told her what to do when anyone that wasn't a slave asked her - no, demanded her - to give her name. Well, if he hadn't told her what to do he couldn't be angry with her, could he? He wouldn't be able to loan her out to anyone.
She took a deep breath before answering the man's question. "My name is Krista."
"Hmph." His gaze finally moved from her and her body nearly collapsed back to the ground from relief. "Is there a specific reason why you had to run into me with such a disgusting look on your face?"
Her breathing came fast. What... what disgusting look? She checked that her features were still twisted into that feature that Vossler had adored. It was. "I didn't-"
Before she could stop herself from questioning him he cut in, "Oh, shut up. Go do whatever you were told to do." The man stepped around her, walking briskly down the hall in the next second, eyes narrowed.
Krista stared after him, hoping he didn't intend to find and tell Vossler what had just happened. This was the punishment she received for her prayer.
She retrieved the drink Vossler had asked for, spending about an hour wandering the halls and rooms, asking for help at nearly every corner as the time dragged on. When she finally located Vossler at the card tables she practically ran there, thinking he might disappear in the next second and that she would have to spend another hour searching before even catching a glimpse of him.
When she placed the drink on the table he just glanced to her before waving her away with a grin and a laugh, commenting to the other players at the table how it took an hour for his own slave to locate him. Krista just stepped back as her cheeks grew warm, forcing her eyes not to lower to the floor at his words. He was drunk and she didn't want to risk angering him now. Vossler was hardly a threat to any slave when he was drunk, but somehow he always found out what his slaves did when they thought he wouldn't catch them.
So she saw him clearly, sitting at that table, giving her one sweep of his eyes before looking back at the cards in his hands. Her heart nearly stopped beating right there.
He had told Vossler about her.