I want to find out where my (I flatter myself) fanbase is. If anyonw wouldn't mind, could you please give me the state that you live in when you review? I don't want names or addresses or anything like that, just a general area. Maybe an age is anyone's feeling brave, but you don't have to, obviously. And I really like reviews about the story, too. I'm 18, in Pennsylvania, if anyone cares.
"I'll take him."
I closed my eyes, trying to tell myself that the voice had not come from beside me.
"What?" Madam Long asked, narrowing her eyes.
"I said I'll take him," Master repeated, "If he's such a bother. After all, it's my first year. I'm really not so busy as the rest of you. He is the Owner's pet, isn't he?" Master asked.
A cold chill fell over me and I tugged on Master's sleeve. He glanced at me and our eyes met. His were calm, but I could see his mind working behind them. Somehow, Master had learned of the situation, and was well in control. I relaxed. Somehow, Master was always one step ahead.
"I suppose it'd be alright..." Madam Long said, hesitating, then resolving herself as she glanced down at Dragon, who remain still as stone and just as unfeeling. "No, I know it will be fine. I can have Mistress Ice draw up the papers next week, and I'll hand him over to you then." She stretched, smiling, and I could see the tension ease out of her. "I'm almost glad to have the weight off of my shoulders. I haven't seen my Sparrow all week, and I'm sure he's getting jealous."
"Are you sure you'll be able to handle him?" Master Zephyr asked. "After all, your little blonde pet doesn't seem to be doing all well."
"Oh, Kitten?" Master replied casually, "He was injured in a bet before I even got him," he said, glancing at Master Marcel with a very potent expression. "He's actually doing a lot better now. Angel's taken lovely care of him don't you think?"
Master Marcel blushed under Master's stare and turned away. In the same moment, Duke laughed.
"So this is the little pet I'm replacing, eh?" Duke chuckled, a cold grin on his face. "You really did a number on him, Marcel," Duke said.
"It's not my fault," Marcel replied angrily, "That little bitch's been a pain ever since I got him!" Master Marcel yelled and Quatre, suddenly aware of the man's presence, huddled down behind the table and buried himself in Master's coat, shivering. I saw Master react almost without thought, intending to lean down to Quatre, but stopped himself. He couldn't show such affection to one slave in front of the other masters. Instead, he casually placed a hand on Quatre's head to calm the boy, never turning his face from the table.
"You've scared him!" Master Zyphyr accused, pulling his own slave closer. The boy was tiny, even smaller than Quatre, with a dark complection and back hair. The boy willingly fell across his master's lap, pressing close, as few slaves would. The boy was either trying very hard to please his master, or cared for the master deeply.
"Don't get so upset," Duke chided, "Everyone knows the little ones have such a tendency toward crying. I'm sure if Marcel had dropped a fork it would have had the same effect."
"He's right, you know," Madam Long put in, smiling in fond remembrance, "Just last week I took a paddle to my little Sparrow and I'd barely gotten in two cracks before he was bawling at my knees," she said, smiling softly.
"What did you do?" Master Jet asked, leaning over the table with interest.
"Why, I finished the punishment, of course! You can't have a slave thinking they can get away with anything by simply crying. Then they'd never stop!" she laughed. "No, I finished the punishment and sent him to get a bath. When he came back out I told him to stop crying or he'd spend the night in his cage. He stopped, and when I woke up the next morning he was behaving like a prince. When a slave knows they can't get away with anything, they behave themselves."
"I see your point," Master purred, "but it's really not Kitten's fault. He wasn't feeling well today, and I gave him some drugs to quiet him. It seems to have had the opposite effect, though."
"You have to be very careful giving drugs to the little ones. A little goes a long way, with them," Duke commented.
"I can see that, now," Master laughed, rubbing Quatre's head as the boy ceased his crying. "Still, I'm sure I didn't give him enough to be dangerous."
"What's wrong with him, if I may ask?" Master Zypher questioned.
"The little pussy couldn't run the gauntlet, that's all," Master Marcel answered quickly.
"Injured in a gauntlet run?" Master Jet questioned, "I've never been in one, but I've heard they can be brutal. So the wounds are from a whip?" he asked. Master nodded, and I could see him restraining himself from glaring once again at Master Marcel. He was having much difficulty.
"Have you sent him to a doctor?" Master Zephyr asked. Master Zephyr seemed genuinely concerned about Quatre's well being, and I wondered how he could be a master and care so much.
"I haven't, no," responded Master. "I was hoping that we could avoid that, since I only have one other slave. Angel fixed him up fairly well, so I think he'll be alright."
"You should send him," the Duke interjected. "Granted, you can't just send them for any little thing, but a dead slave is still worth less than a missing slave. Besides, you can't do anything without him crying as it is, and you'll just waste your money drugging him," Duke commented sagely. "Trust me, once they're addicted a slave is completely useless. Most of them have to be put down, some even get dangerous. They say the Shinigami is addicted to Back 10-200."
"That's ridiculous," Madam Long huffed. "You know the Owner would never allow something so powerful on Collar. And who would buy it for him?"
Black 10-200 was a highly addictive enhancer that caused a person to go insane and attack anything close by. It also allowed the user to stay awake for long periods of time and raised strength, speed, and agility of the user with no affect on the intelligence level. It was nearly impossible to get, but it had several lesser counterparts that were readily available. The pills Quatre had been dosed with were from the same scale, but where Black was nearly at the top, Quatre's were nearly at the bottom.
"Shinigami?" Master questioned innocently and I frowned. I should have told him about the Shinigami, but I hadn't thought it would come up.
"Shinigami's something of a superstar around here," Master Jet said, "From what I heard about three years ago he won three of the hardest competitions in Collar alone. Then his master died and no one could get him to dance worth shit."
"Is that so?" Master asked. "What competitions did he compete in?"
"Only the big three," said Madam Long, "Erotica, Exotic Dance, and Specialty Pleasures."
"They all sound the same!" Master laughed.
"They're pretty close," Madam Long answered, sharing his amusement. "Erotica is the competitor and one other pet having sex in front of a panel of judges. Erotic dance is pretty much a strip tease. And Specialty Pleasures is a kink competition. It's almost the same as Erotica only with a kink added."
"Why are they called the big three?" Master wondered.
"Because they're the ones that everyone tried for," said Master Jet, "Anyone who owns a pet tries for those three, because they practice it so often. No one's ever even won first in two of them, let alone the three that Shinigami took."
"So he won Collar that year then?"
"Not even close," Master Marcel replied, "His master was a loser. The man only had three slaves, and the other two were crap. It screwed the whole team over."
"I don't understand," Master said, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.
"It's like this," Master Zephyr put in, "Each master must have a team of four slaves or less. Each slave is allotted six events that they must compete in. Now, one slave could take eight events an another could take four, but it's very hard on the slaves to do that. However it falls, the team must compete in twenty-four events out of the thirty planned each year. If the team competes in less than twenty-four events it must take a last place for any event missed. The scores are tallied by places, so a last place really hurts the team, especially if almost a hundred people compete in that event."
"That's why Dragon's never won," Madam Long said. "Try as he might, he can never manage to take a good place in all twenty-four events. He's been close before, though, because he took four firsts and six seconds one year, but then he completely fell in the dance competition. Landed flat on his butt, he did," she said, smiling as Dragon blushed bright red. "Ever since then he's always bombed in the dance event. Just too much for the poor dear's tiny brain, I suppose."
"Whatever happened to this Shinigami?" Master asked, diverting the flow of conversation.
"Nobody could do anything with him," said Duke, "no matter how much they whipped him, he was just no good at anything. The next year he entered his highest placing was a twenty. For about two years since then he's been pawned from master to master, until a few months ago he was sold given back to the own because no one wanted him. He'll probably be on sale at the end of Collar, but because he got three firsts his price will be sky high, even though he's useless. If he doesn't sell this year, they'll put him down for sure. Good riddance, too."
"Someone'll buy him," Master Marcel argued, "There's always someone trying to make a name for himself by taming the legend. We just have to wait around and see who it is this year."
Conversation came to a sudden halt then, as the food arrived, but I certainly had enough to think about. Now, instead of having one new pet, I also had the Owner's slave to worry about.
Quatre had fallen asleep in Master's coat, so I rose to serve Master without hesitation, but my mind wasn't on my work. I was far to busy thinking about the repercussions of this night, and whether or not it would spell doom in the future.