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With dead eyes and shut-down expressions, collared men and women drifted toward different tables and Masters. A few more names and a few reluctant shuffles. The dense night air rippled with obedience before a scream suddenly rang out.
A male jewel plummeted to the floor, twitching and gasping, his entire body locked in a teeth-snapping convulsion.
“Told you to move faster, Toby. You didn’t.” A tall, thin man with silvered hair stood by his table, his thumb stabbing into a familiar black device.
I balled my hands under the table as the slave jerked with electrocution.
Other men chuckled and rolled their eyes, well used to seeing such brutal discipline.
Toby choked on his tongue.
One of the men a few seats away from me smirked in my direction. “Bloody jewels. There’s always one or two who push their luck.”
I shut down the part of me wanting to hit something and laughed. “Discipline is far more fun than obedience.”
“And so damn satisfying.” He grinned and held out his hand. “I’m Charles, by the way. And you’re Henri.”
“I am.” Doing my best to stop watching the murder before me, I shook his hand. I squeezed his fingers just the right amount, keeping a nonchalant smile on my face. “You been coming here a while?”
“Oh, yes.” Sitting back, Charles ran a hand through his short brown beard. The hair on his head had thinned, seeming to prefer his chin. Crows feet by his eyes and age spots on the back of his hands pegged him about mid-fifties. “Be fourteen years next month. Vic said he’s gonna plan something big for me. Maybe let me rent the snuffbox all to myself.”
Fourteen years?
Jesus.
No wonder Q used me to infiltrate. If even he couldn’t touch or find this place, then the Master Jeweler was a worthy adversary.
I sipped my drink. “I haven’t had the pleasure.”
“Oh, you will. It’s splendid.” He smirked. “You’ll have the time of your life in there, believe me.”
I shrugged. “So you can rent the snuffbox just for you? Alone?”
“Well, for me and a jewel or two.” He chuckled. “Obviously.”
“Obviously.” I returned his laugh. “Don’t like to share either, huh?”
“Nah, just don’t like an audience.” His eyes turned black. “I like to…take my time.” Picking up his dinner knife, he sliced it slowly through the air. “I like to enjoy myself, if you know what I mean.”
I swallowed hard, picturing all kinds of despicable things. Instead of stabbing him with my fork, I raised my glass. “Hear, hear.”
“Enough,” Victor commanded quietly, ripping my eyes back to the ongoing torture. “You’re killing him, Bruce, and I rather like Toby.”
With a pertinent huff, Bruce stopped stabbing the button.
Toby went lax on the floor. His breathing rattled. Blood streaked from his nose.
After a few seconds of his panting, Victor moved toward him. “Toby, go to your Master, please. Don’t make me ask twice.” He toed his abused jewel. “There’s a good lad.”
Toby groaned and nodded.
I honestly didn’t know how he did it, but the thin slave with a shock of sable hair slowly hauled himself to his hands and knees and crawled over to Bruce. The moment he reached the table, Bruce unzipped his pants, pulled out his hard cock, and sat in his chair like a king expecting to be served.
I looked away.
And froze.
Only three jewels remained in the middle of the gazebo.
