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It almost reminded him of life before everything was destroyed. The guard watched, but there wasn't anything Oriel could use as a weapon, and he was too weak. He hadn't been given any water or food yet. The water in the tub was tempting, but the guard would probably punish him for drinking without permission.
He had to be careful with his back, and the skin around the burns pulled on them every time he moved. His body was sore, and even though he’d slept last night, he wanted to curl up somewhere and pass out again.
The guard watched him as he dried off. Afterward, Oriel was put on a lead again and told to crawl. He guessed he’d rarely be permitted to walk like a fairy now that he belonged to Roth. Several rings were in various places around, so he could be chained wherever.
The sitting room had a cage not far from the bedroom door. It wasn’t big enough for him to stand in, so he’d be on his knees like a pet. At least it was long enough to stretch out, and it had a cushion, a pillow, and blankets.
Instead of caging him so he could lie down and try to forget what was coming, the guard led him to one side where a ring was mounted on the floor by the wall. Oriel was chained to it with about three links worth of slack. This way, he was forced to keep his head close to the floor. The nearest shelf was out of his reach.
“Keep that ass up. No laying down, or he’ll cane you.” The guard smacked Oriel’s left asscheek. “Have fun. I wouldn’t mind sucking off Roth myself and playing with that pretty tail. I bet he’s a biter.”
Oriel was left alone. The position was more degrading than physically uncomfortable, not that he’d dare complain. The sitting room held two couches with a low table between them, and a couple of armchairs. The fireplace was cold and clean since it was warm enough, and a couple of portraits decorated the walls.
Roth took after his Mother. Oriel had heard through later gossip that Lord Delwin’s wife had died along with a few others thanks to food poisoning from bad fish.
Lord Delwin and Roth seemed so nice in the portrait. No one would think they were shitty people by looking at it. He dared to wonder if Roth would ever let him read one of the books on the many shelves or if he’d be expected to sit and stare into space when he didn’t have his new Master’s cock stuffed in his ass or mouth.
Roth finally sauntered in and barely looked at him as he headed to his bedroom. After a bit, Oriel heard water splashing. Roth took his time since it wasn’t like he had to rush on his slave’s account. He finally returned in a pair of green trousers, no vest, and a loose linen shirt. He’d combed out his long hair and left it loose.
Oriel noticed the cane in his hand and quickly stared at the floor. He’d been with a couple of people after Aspen who had liked that sort of thing, and he didn’t mind it. Pain and sex could feel good together, although he usually preferred doing the tying and whipping. None of it would feel good now, but he had no idea if Roth would brutalize him every day or if he’d be satisfied with less.
Roth poured himself a small glass of wine from the sideboard before he approached. His tail swished, and Oriel tensed as he felt the cane tap along his back, and he sucked in a slight breath when it touched the D brand.
“Does that hurt?”
“Yes, Master.”
“I figured. If you’re good, maybe I’ll put some balm on it later.”
That was probably a lie. Oriel tried not to eye the glass pitcher on the sideboard that contained water.
“What are you looking at? Hmm?” Roth let his tail brush Oriel’s hip.
“The water, Master.”
Dear Elira, maybe he’d kept dehydrated and starved enough to make him constantly weak.
Roth laid the end of the cane across his ass and kept it there. “I’m going to let you loose, and you’ll stay on your hands and knees. If you stand without permission, run, attack, or do any of that shit, you’ll regret it. There’s a guard outside of my door now, so even if you somehow got the upper hand in your state, he’d help take care of you even though I hardly need him. Do you understand me?”
The cane tapped Oriel’s ass. “Yes, Master.”
Roth removed the lead and coiled it in his pocket. “Crawl after me.”
Oriel followed until Roth stopped by the sideboard. He poured water into a wooden cup and handed it down. Oriel supposed no one was going to be giving him anything made of glass which could be broken and used as a weapon. For all he knew, Roth might have been teasing him with the water, so Oriel hastily gulped it down as he remained on the floor.
“Slow down. I don’t need you throwing up all over the floor, and I doubt the servants feel like cleaning that."
Oriel’s mouth and throat felt a lot better once he’d finished it. Roth took the cup and refilled it, but he placed it on the sideboard and snapped his fingers.
“Stand.”
Oriel cast him a wary glance, but he slowly stood.
Roth took his arm and turned him. “My Father could have just branded you with an S for slave. If any slave manages to run and find clothes, it still marks them. A healer wouldn't even be able to fade that now.” He turned Oriel again and held up his forefinger and thumb about an inch apart with a nasty smile. “I figured the brand would be like that since there’s no need for a big one. Those are three inches high and must've hurt quite a bit, but that’s fitting for a traitor’s son, especially considering your Father hanged my Grandfather."
So he did know. Oriel hadn’t seen the victim’s body, but he’d heard enough from others to know it hadn’t been pretty. Three fairies had seen the end of the incident, although they’d been too late to stop Sam and save the woman. They’d said her wings had been battered and torn. Sam had certainly done his best to make sure she couldn’t get away.
“He deserved it,” Oriel muttered before he could think twice, and the cane cracked against his ass and the welts from the whipping, and he sucked in a breath.
