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It goes against everything my body wants, but I obey. His eyes are… kind. They’re the gray-blue of a winter sky, but somehow warm instead of cold or stormy.
A trick. They’re not kind eyes. He’s not kind. He’s just good at hiding who he is. Don’t fall for it.
I harden myself on the inside, forcing my eyes to stay locked with Master’s.
“Good. Very good.” His lips curve into a smile, my gaze flicking to them before returning to the man’s eyes. He’s handsome, I realize. It’s just a stray thought. It doesn’t matter. I’ve been raped and beaten by ugly men, average men, and unfairly attractive men. Looks don’t matter in this world. Yet… that thought is stuck in my mind, echoing as if it means something. Master is very handsome.
“I’m going to give you a bath now. You will tell me if you experience any additional pain or if you start to feel sicker in any way, understood?”
“Yes, Master.”
“Good. Let’s go, then.”
Master takes my hands, pulling me to my feet. He keeps hold of me as he walks backward to guide me toward the tub. It’s big. The kind that stands on its own, with golden feet and a black basin. It’s a high step to get into it, but Master helps me so I don’t fall. The water is the perfect temperature. My eyes flutter closed at the feel of it.
Master gently presses on my shoulder until I sit. I wince as the water touches my fresher wounds, but the pain thankfully subsides quickly. I blink, a tear falling down my cheek.
“Does it hurt too much?” Master asks, almost sounding… concerned? No, that can't be.
“No, Master,” I whisper. “It’s perfect.”
I accidentally look at him. He’s smiling. It’s a happy, warm smile. Kind, like his eyes. I can’t remember the last time someone smiled at me like this. Not sinister or dangerous or cruel. Just… a smile.
Something in my chest warms. It scares me, that warmth, so I quickly look away again.
“Just relax now,” Master says. He rests his elbow on the lip of the tub and cradles his head in his hand. I can feel him watching me. It makes me nervous. What’s he watching for? Is he waiting for me to fuck up? Should I fuck up? Will I be in trouble if I don’t fuck up?
That’s the worst game of all; when Master - my old master - would want me to misbehave. Sometimes he was merciful enough to set me up for failure so it wasn’t a choice I had to make, but other times I had to decide for myself. It was a mindfuck wrapped in a mindfuck coated in sadistic misery. I don’t want to play that game.
I don’t want to play any games.
God, I’m so fucking tired.
“Relax,” Master says again, his lips twitching toward a smile. “You’re safe, little one. Relax now.”
I’m not fucking safe, I know that much, but he’s clearly making the relaxation an order so I force myself to sink into the water and soften my muscles. I breathe carefully, not allowing too much air to come in so my chest doesn’t fully rise, not wanting to seem greedy with my oxygen.
That’s how it goes, for a while. Me breathing. Master watching.
“You used to swim, didn’t you?”
The words startle me. I can’t remember the last time someone spoke to me about my past. It must have been the prison-like cell where we were all kept before the auction. It must have been Carter, in fact. Because after Carter was taken away, the guards lying and saying they killed him, I stopped speaking to people. I couldn’t risk getting attached again.
Once I was bought by my old master, it was drilled into my head that I didn’t exist before then. I wasn’t a human anymore. In fact, it’d be better if I forgot that I ever was one in the first place. I am a thing now. A slave. A dog. I exist solely for my Master’s pleasure.
So, to be asked about swimming, to be asked about my past… it spins my whole world.
Why would Master bring that up? Is he trying to hurt me? Is he trying to remind me I didn’t exist before? Is it a test?
Fuck, what should I say?
“Little one?” Master prompts. He moves closer to the tub, dropping one arm so his fingertips skim the surface of the water. He tilts his head. Fuck, I’m in trouble now, aren’t I? “Am I wrong? Did you not swim… before?”
“I-” I have to pause to swallow a sudden wave of bile that tries crawling up my throat. Then I decide to just go for it. Honestly, it might be a relief if this man will just finally punish me. Punishment, I understand. It’s this, whatever the fuck this is, that I can’t wrap my head around. “Yes, Master. I used to swim.”
Acknowledging that hurts worse than I possibly imagined.
“Did you swim competitively?”
