Author's Note: I wasn't going to add another note, save for to thank my editor, Talynnda, again for her continued patience, and her superb editing ability. But as that this is a erotic horror submission I would warn my reader that this story is primarily homosexual in nature, but additional content prevented me as submitting it as such. So please read at your own peril.
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I awoke to the soft ring of chains. It wasn't yet twilight, and a sliver of late day sunlight peeked through the barred window. I stood slowly, my abdomen cramping with the abuse my pussy had endured in the past twenty-four hours. I ignored it, and walked out into the hall to visit the bathroom. I took the liberty of a quick shower, letting the heated water pelt onto my slightly stiff neck, and washed away the ignored mess left from the night before.
Turning off the dual shower-heads I stepped from the shower and wrapped myself in a thick white towel. As I exited the bathroom, I again heard the clank of chains behind the closed door directly across from the toilet. I pressed my ear to the door listening to the muffled cries, and more of the singing of metal links.
I reached forward and tried the knob, it was unlocked, and swung open. It was the room with the swing, and Cid stood bound to a vertical rack I had not seem the night before. His eyes darted to me as I entered slowly, a fat ball gag preventing him from anything but another muffled cry.
"Have you been like this all day?" I asked him, as I removed the gag.
He swallowed thickly, licking his lips, and nodded slowly. "I shouldn't have treated you as I did." He spoke weakly. "I didn't anticipate our master becoming so enraged. But I knew I should have left you when you told me you weren't interested."
I said nothing, silently agreeing. I may have been more willing to play with him after I had been rested, but I wasn't going to admit that to him. I checked the locks that held his arms and legs to the rack, and realized that without the keys to the Master Locks I wouldn't be able to free him from his minor torment. "He hasn't hurt you?" I asked taking a step back to look him over, and adjusted the towel, as it had slipped from my petite breast. My eyes were drawn to a bit of redness left on his neck from where master had torn his throat, but it wouldn't leave a scar.
"No, not after he took you to bed." Cid said, his head hanging until his chin rested on his chest. "Julien returned and bound me to this, and without a single word, he left." Cid shuffled his feet, trying to find some comfort, the shifting of the 3 inches of chain chimed throughout the silent house again.
I nodded, and started to force the ball gag back into his mouth.
"Wait, what are you doing?" He asked, as he jerked his head from side to side.
"I'm putting this back in you mouth, what does it look like?" I told him as I smashed the gag into his mouth and quickly buckled it. "I'm leaving you as Master had you." I stepped back checking my handy work to make sure Cid was in the same condition as he had been in when I arrived, then I turned on my heels and left, closing the door silently.
I was curious about the other slave, I had only seen her for a few seconds after Master unloaded me from the van, and then she had still been sleeping. As I explored the hallway, I noted that four of the doors had locking mechanisms on them, my door was one of them. None of the doors appeared to actually be bolted. The first of the four doors bearing a lock was the first door of the hall. I opened that door slowly, it looked lived in, and smelled lightly of sweat with undertones of sex. But it was empty, I guessed it belonged to Cid.
The next room was clean and empty, harboring only a king sized bed. The last door I opened revealed what I was looking for. She still lay sprawled across the bed, a black sheet pulled partially across her stomach and chest. She snored softly, her ample chest rising and falling rhythmically.
I smiled and shook my head, wondering if our master hadn't given her a dose of a sleeping agents, but realizing that she was probably just as exhausted as I had been. I doubted that many slaves had learned to deal with sleep deprivation as well as I had.
The sun had fully set as I pulled her door shut, and made my way into the living room. My stomach growled angrily, so I made my way into the kitchen. After peering for several minutes into the fridge I decided that a ham sandwich would have to do.
I'd just made my second sandwich when I heard the hum of the garage door opening, and the rev of an engine as it pulled into the garage. From further inside the house there was another muffled scream from Cid. I shook my head and took the sandwiches to the table. I had just taken a healthy bite of my first sandwich when I heard the door open and the click of boot-heels on the hard wood floor.
I looked up as Master walked into the dining room, and was awed by his dress. His long black hair was neatly tied back at the base of his neck, he wore a leather vest over his pale chest, matching pants covered his long legs, and black riding boots completed the ensemble. He carried a bag overflowing with an appalling variety of whips, canes, and other torturous items.
Taking stock of the outfit and the bag of toys, I lowered my head. I'd lost my appetite and let the sandwich drop to the plate, as anxiety churned in my stomach and restricted my airways. I doubted that the toys were meant for me, but I knew better than to assume anything, and I didn't want to watch him hurt Cid or anyone else.
As Master stepped behind me, he touched my back lightly. I tensed, the pleasure of last night seeming chimerical. He looked too much as past masters had before they updated my vocabulary of what this slavery meant. He ran his hand lightly over my back and brought it to rest on my shoulder.
I tilted my head, taking a deep breath, ready for what ever Master was going to do. He let his hand drop, sighing, "Back to square-one, I see," he said quietly.
I lowered my head visualizing past masters, and highlights of what I had endured when they had been garbed in a similar fashion. I knew that blood was easily wiped from sealed leather, and that most preferred leather for brutal acts, when they chose to wear clothing. "Lord, you aren't going to kill him, are you?" I asked meekly, forgetting the conversation we'd had the night before, my eyes studying the intricate grains in the walnut tabletop.
