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I swallow, hating that all this talking has made my mouth dry again. My words come out lisped and stunted, but I think they’re good enough for him to understand. "I’m yours to do with as you wish, Master.”
“Magnifiquement cassé,” he murmurs. I know the first word - beautiful - but the other I don’t understand. He tilts his head, assessing me. “Perhaps no death after all.”
Something sinks inside of me, heavy and cold. It takes me a moment to realize what it is. Disappointment.
Do I want to die?
I shouldn’t unless Master wants it. Slaves don’t want things for themselves. They don’t have their own thoughts. They don’t decide things.
But… I think dying would be quite lovely.
I think I just might beg him for it, even if that makes me bad.
“Ouvrir.”
I open my mouth again, my mind drifting to ways I could do the job myself instead. It’d make me a terrible slave and Master would be very disappointed in me, but I’d be dead, so it wouldn’t really matter. And then he could find a better slave. One that won’t be such a fuck up. One that can really make him happy.
Master's cock slides partly into my mouth before something hot and bitter bursts onto my tongue. He orders me to swallow, so I quickly begin gulping the liquid down, trying my best not to spill any of it.
Dread fills me as I realize that I’m rested and hydrated now.
I’m not going to die anytime soon.
Master releases my hair after he’s finished, letting me collapse onto the ground with the taste of his piss still on my tongue. He walks away without a word. The door opens. More shoes are on the floor, coming closer. Guards.
I’m lifted, glass tinkling as it falls off my body and onto the ground.
“Same orders as before,” Master tells his men, speaking in English to ensure I understand. “I’m curious if he’ll survive.”
The next time I gain consciousness, something has changed. At least, I think something has changed. I might be going crazy again. Or have I been crazy this whole time? Am I just crazy now? Is my mind broken? Does Master want it to be? Would that please him?
God, thinking fucking hurts.
I try to open my eyes, immediately wincing when the bright lights attack. I quickly squeeze them shut again as I try to process what that means. The lights in the dungeon aren’t bright. They’ve never been bright. Am I finally out of the dungeon? Is my punishment over?
Opening my eyes again will hurt too much, so I try to focus on my other senses. I’m strapped down to a bed, but that’s happened before. Master’s bed, maybe?
I’m naked, but that’s nothing new. I don’t even remember what clothes feel like anymore. There’s still something on me, though. It’s heavy. Warm. But not a body. A blanket?
When I hear a low murmur, I force my eyes back open. If it’s Master and he’s talking to me, I need to show him I’m trying to listen.
My head fills with a soft buzzing noise as pain works its way through my body. I never knew toes could hurt so badly, but mine do. I blink through the pain until I see a white coat. My head isn’t strapped down, so I’m able to move it a little. The white coat disappears. There’s a… computer? A monitor?
I startle when I make eye contact with Master. It’s just long enough to see his deep frown before I quickly lower my gaze to his belt, waiting to see if he’ll punish me for the mistake. He doesn’t.
“He will survive?” I hear him ask someone.
I hear a low voice but can’t make out the words. I’m not entirely sure I want to know the answer anyway.
My strength is dwindling, exhaustion seeping back in. I sink into the bed, my eyes too heavy to open after another slow blink. My throbbing head is thankful. Something sharp enters my arm. It hurts, but then I’m flooded with warmth.
I hear Master say something just before I drift off. It doesn’t make any sense, but that’s nothing new either. Even when he speaks in English, he’s often speaking in riddles to mess with me. I try not to care about it, but for some reason the words stick. They echo in my dreams.
Nathan Roarke’s second-hand will be here soon.
Chapter Two
Jake
