Sara felt like she'd waited all her life for this moment. It wasn't true, of course. Infernals hadn't even existed until a year ago. Heck, she hadn't even discovered Jacqueline Carey until she was 20, and that was the first time the word 'slave' had been something erotic, rather than a word from a dark period of American history.
Until the infernals, it was a fantasy, never a real possibility. But once Ruritanian slavery became a thing, it had been an idée fixe. And now it was happening. Sara was sitting in the back seat of a little sedan, and her owner-to-be was driving, and his wife was in the passenger seat. Around her in the thick and slow traffic of rush hour, ordinary people were driving to work, knowing they were free now, and would be free when they clocked out of their job. Dependent on their employer for health insurance and rent money, and all of that, but not enslaved, exactly.
Whereas she, Sara, was bare necked now, and would be collared on the way back.
It was an impossible step to take without wondering whether she would regret it for the rest of her life. She didn't have to do this. She had a good job as a nurse. She was free and making her way in the world the same as all the other people were. Even now she could back out. But soon, there would be a moment of no return.
That moment of no return was what she wanted. To be enslaved, but to be free from having to choose. She didn't know that she could explain it to most people, but there was something about being committed that drew her. She supposed it wasn't that different from the things that drew people to get married, have children, or join the Navy. An irrevocable decision - or at least, decisions that could only be revoked at great cost.
Red light. The door wasn't locked. She could run, if she wanted to. "Sir?"
"Sara?" Gray asked. He was in his demon form, a bit too large for the driver's seat, and he had on a suit that he had bought for the occasion, the blue serge looking strange against his bright red skin.
"Could you enable the child-safety locks, please?"
Betty Harding turned to look at Sara, with kind eyes beneath honey-blonde hair. "Having second thoughts, honey? We don't have to do this."
"Not real second thoughts. Just jitters. Did you have them when you got married?"
"Yes," said Gray and Betty at the same time, and they laughed.
There was a small thump as the locks clicked into place.
Sara leaned back, and felt like a small burden had been lifted from her.
"This is a bit like a marriage, isn't it?" Betty mused aloud. "Not so egalitarian, but... hmm."
Sara knew she wasn't going to back out, not really. It was Betty that concerned her. If Betty got cold feet about her husband taking a slave, what would Gray do?
Gray drove past the Ruritanian Embassy, a chunky five story building that had been a department store once. There were picketers out front, and Sara managed to read a few of the signs.
"Save our Daughters."
"Demons go home."
"The only good Red is a dead Red."
He scanned the streets for a parking spot, and finally found one with a three-hour limit, over a block away. They would have to walk past the picketers, there wasn't any real way around it.
Sara remembered her slave training. A slave had to be brave. You never knew what would happen, or what your master would decide, and you had to face that every day plans could change and his or her whim. She didn't think the picketers would hurt her. Hell, she didn't think they could, with Gray there to protect her.
"I hadn't thought about the picketers," Betty said.
"They're out in force today. We could pick another day," Gray said.
"Please no," Sara said.
Betty giggled.
"What's funny?" Gray asked.
"Just - I don't know, after this she can't say no, can she? And she just said it," Betty said. "Never mind me, I'm nervous. But I'm in this. Let's do it."
"Alright," Gray said. "I hate to ask you to walk behind me, but in this situation it might be best."
"Maybe it would be better to have one of us on each arm?" Betty said. "It would make it clear that we were with you."
"I might need my hands free," Gray said. "I hope not."
Sara stayed quiet. They needed to work these things out without her interference. In the end, they did it Gray's way, which made Sara happy. Not because she didn't want to be on his arm, but because it was Gray's way.
They left the car, and walked toward the protestors. Their attention immediately pivoted to Gray, but of course they took in the two women with him as well. Betty, in her thirties, dressed in a rather loud magenta suit that clashed a little with Gray's skin color. Sara, in a little black cocktail dress that showed off her long legs, and wearing four-inch heels as she trotted along behind the big red demon. She was conscious of not wearing anything else underneath. In her fantasy, she would be marched to this event naked. Legally, she could be topless in the District of Columbia, but Gray had said no.
One of the protestors had the idea of standing in front of Gray's path on the sidewalk, so that he'd have to detour out of the way. Another moved left, to talk to Betty.
"You don't have to do this," he told her. "There are other options. Choose freedom."
Betty just shrugged at him.
Sara was grateful that she'd ended up on the other side. The stone walls of the close-set city buildings were to her left, and Betty was to her right. They'd have to go all the way around to get to her.
"I'm going to keep walking," Gray said to the man in front of him. "And if you don't get out of my way, that's fine by me." He took another step, and the man scampered, carrying his Demons go Home sign with him.
That left a single line of protestors to get through, and Betty nudged Sara in behind Gray.
"Don't do it," one of the protestors said, and Sara wasn't even sure who he was talking to. And then they were through, and Gray was opening the door like a gentleman. Maybe that's how the tradition started, was the man staying outside to ward off potential assaulters and hecklers. Either way, it was kind of nice.
