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The ex-medical student looks away then, his eyes glazing. His words are quiet when he admits, “Yeah, you’re right…”
“How did you even hear about that?” Carter asks, not liking how dark the conversation just got. “Did Master Mica tell you?”
They all laugh then. The female slave explains, “We pay attention. Eavesdrop. The kind of information we can overhear in our positions is fucking big. Especially you. The things you probably hear…”
“Not the time,” the slave next to Carter hisses. “So not the fucking time.”
“What does that mean? Not the time for what?” Carter asks.
They all look at him. Their eyes flash with rebellion.
It feels like Carter’s been injected with a brand-new life, his body singing with energy and hope. They aren’t broken. None of them are broken. They’re all just better than him at pretending.
No. Notallof them. There’s something different about the slave sir is using tonight as Carter studies him harder. He seems to be experiencing a sort of dry amusement, almost like he’s the adult silently judging the children for having silly fantasies. There’s no rebellion or hope in his expression.
Before Carter can dwell on the difference, the female changes the topic to something safer. “So, is Master Roarke nice in private or what?”
“I-” Carter pauses, looking at each of them in confusion, “Wait, none of you have been with sir – I mean, Master Roarke – in private?”
“Nope. He doesn’t do that. Slaves are too beneath him. None of them are allowed in his personal wing or his office,” the slave sir is currently using explains. He sneers at Carter. “That is, beforeyou. Seems he’s broken his own rules for you.”
“Is he gentle?” the slave beside Carter asks.
“Of course he is,” the slave sir is using – a slave Carter is starting to realize is very jealous – growls. “I always have such a hard time warming him. He makes me so sleepy.”
“Ugh. The hair petting thing,” the slave beside Carter says in agreement, sighing wistfully. “It feels sooo good.”
The slave Mica is using tonight speaks next, his expression dreamy. “How are we not talking about the fact that he lets us come? Like – he doesn’t even fuck us, just makes us suck his cock, and he lets us come while we do it. Hot damn. He’s agodsend.”
Carter’s throat goes tight.
He really isn’t special to sir. Not at all.
The female slave tosses her hair over her shoulder and teasingly flips them off. “Fuck you all. The straight guys here suck ass.” Then she’s off with a sway of her naked hips, leaving Carter with all the slaves his sir has enjoyed the use of.
He can’t look at any of them.
There’s a heavy silence as the jealous slave finishes making sir’s drink. When he turns to go, the other slave by his side now, he pauses to look at Carter. His gaze travels from head to toe, then back again, his expression twisting into disgust. “You’re not special. He’ll get tired of you once the whole Maison’s brother thing wears off. Then you’ll probably be tossed into the basement like the rest of us to be communal. You should appreciate what you have before it’s gone. I mean, he’s already getting bored if he’s letting that asshole do what he’s been doing to you. Which, by the way, he’s barely hurting you. Stop crying. You’re not evenbleeding.”
With a final nasty look, the jealous slave walks away, leaving Carter alone with the slave that originally rescued him from Todd. The slave stays quiet for a moment before sighing. He hands Carter a bottle of scotch and an empty glass. “This is what your master for tonight has been drinking. He wanted 2 fingers last time. Safe bet to do that again.”
Carter takes the items from him with shaking hands. “Thanks.”
“He’s right, you know. Not about the stuff he just said, but the stuff earlier, about listening. It’s not just to get information for-” he pauses, looking around, then lowers his voice to continue. “-getting out of here. It’s also for stuff like this. A house slave came in and got drinks for everyone when the meal first started. Your temporary master had given his order. You were right there when it happened. It’s important you soak up all the information you can. These men don’t like to give any leeway. They’ll use whatever excuse they can find to punish you. Don’t make it easy for them.”
“I’ll try,” Carter whispers. He hasn’t poured the drink yet. His hands still haven’t calmed. “I thought it’d be easier to just… pretend like I’m not here.”
“It’s easier in the short term, but you have to play the long-game here. It’ll get easier to stay in the present. It’ll get easier to keep your mind active, but separate your emotions. Soon it’ll be like – well, I don’t know how to explain it really. It’s probably different for everyone. But for me, it feels like I go to work. You don’t deal with your personal shit at work, right? You don’t have mental breakdowns or outbursts, unless you want to be fired. You deal with that stuff at home. It’s the same for me. When I’m up here, being used, I look at it like a job. It took me a long time to get like that, though. A lot of practice.” He shrugs, looking away as his eyebrows pull in. “Maybe I’m just desensitized now…”
Carter puts two cubes of ice in the scotch glass, remembering the distinct sound of Todd making them clack together as he had swirled his drink. “Thanks for the advice.”
“No problem.” The slave shrugs. “And don’t take what that asshole said to you personally. He’s been in love with Master Roarke for at least a year now. He’s just jealous of you.”
“In love?” Carter asks with a scoff. He ignores the tiny part of him that burns with jealousy at the thought of someone loving sir. In fact, he pretends the part doesn’t even exist. “How could someone love a monster like that?”
The slave shrugs, a sad expression twisting his features. “I don’t know. 3 is different. Or maybe it’s me that’s different. I don’t know. Everyone copes in their own ways, I guess. And some just sort of… break mentally, ya know? I think that’s what happened with 3. I don’t really know his story, he doesn’t talk a lot, but I think he’s seen some serious shit. He’s sort of empty. Not that he’s the only one. 11 doesn’t even talk anymore, hasn’t in months, and 9 has been losing chunks of time. He said it’s like he wakes up to find himself in the middle of something, and has no memory of how he got there or what has happened to him. I’m one of the lucky ones. I haven’t lost it. At least… not yet.”
Carter has to take a moment to process all the information. One thing sticks out. “3? 9? 11?”
