Chapter 8: Freedom
I woke to the sound of a quiet "click." The collar was loose on my throat; it had opened by itself. The room was still shadowy dark, but I assumed the click meant it was morning and I was free. I reached up and took the collar off. I sat up, rubbed my neck and looked around. My master was lying on the bed curled up on his right side snoring quietly. But no, that wasn't true—he was no longer my master. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, stood up and stretched. I was sore all over, but deliciously so. More, I felt victorious.
I was also sure my bladder was about to burst. Where was a bathroom? Clothes? I staggered toward the door, swung it open and stumbled out into the main room. It was empty, but still smelled faintly of alcohol, perfume, and sex. I guessed my little party wasn't the only fun being had last night. There were still glasses strewn about. I saw one tipped over on the floor in the middle of a small puddle; it had hot pink lipstick smeared on the edge and I wondered about its story. I wondered if anyone else had been sold. I stared around looking for some sign of where the restrooms might be. I didn't see any and called out "Hello?"
In response, a man slouched out from behind the curtain; I hastily tried to cover my nakedness with my arms—a move that always seems to backfire, it just draws attention to what you're not quite hiding. He wore faded jeans and a torn green T-shirt and didn't seem all that interested. Still, I kept my breasts covered as I held my collar bones with crossed arms.
His eyes were a little droopy, like he'd been up all night—I guessed even the maintenance crew was busy when the show was in full flight. In a slightly ragged voice, he said:
"Huh, I'm surprised you're up so soon, you had a busy night. Was it all you expected?"
My eyes snapped into focus and I looked at him carefully. Oh shit. I knew this guy—he was the auctioneer. But this wasn't the man who drove me to my knees with just a glare. This guy was just, he was just...a
guy
