There were lights and sounds all around me. It all hit me right in the mouth as I came to. Loud, blaring, in your face darkness. The cold of the music and its scent shook my body awake.

I peered an eye open. I didn’t recognize this place, these sounds I was smelling, or the lights I was feeling. I peered another eye open. I didn’t recognize her, or him, or her, or them, or him. I didn’t recognize any of them. I peered another eye open. I didn’t recognize any of this.

I blinked- and it felt like minutes passed me by. But as I regained each sense I brought myself to take it in. I almost thought I was dreaming. It was dim, things were loud, and that smell permeated the air around me. I strained to cut through them all. Move. I started to move, only to feel something hold me back. The many links rattled. My hands gripped them, pulling futilely. I traced the length with hot fingertips. Its other end was beset into the marble surface. I’d been bound.

A chain hung from my neck. And not just a for show chain, or a metaphorical chain which you called something more akin to a string or rope, but an actual chain. From the wall. Long. Cold. Heavy. Metal. Chained to my throat. The umbilical cord of my worst nightmare.

Now I was worried. I wasn’t at home. I wasn’t in my bed. I wasn’t even in my cell. I was in a loud dim room attached to the wall, naked. No wonder it was so cold, I’d been stripped to my underwear. My frilly pink- embarrassingly girly- underwear. I was often forced to wear them by Candace.

Candace. I needed Candace.

I swear my dreary face made eye contact with every dreary, sweaty, pair of eyes it could. But there was no sign of Candace. No sign of anyone or anything I even remotely recognized.

Where was I? How did I get here? What was happening to me? I tried to scream, to call out her name. I couldn’t. Why couldn’t I find Candace? Did she have anything to do with this? Did something happen to her? Did she abandon me?

Finally, I found myself trapped. Behind me as I knelt opposite where my body was attached to the wall was a mat. It sat just outside what looked to be a much greater space, and it was the only such mat set down across the visible floor, almost like a doormat of some kind. It was as if it had been placed specifically to soften the spot on which I had been laying, only for me to roll off and pull away from it towards the wall with my chain, still warmed by what time it had spent with my body atop it. At any rate, it was located in such a way that I or anyone else chained up as I was could only just manage to sit up, but not stand, bringing me to my knees as I reached it, by design. My bondage prevented me from crawling any further.

Carefully I peered into another room. There were others here. And although I had been quick to notice them, I was slow to really begin considering their presence.

Another woman caught my eye. Her hair was cut short. The strange lights around her tried hard to obscure it, but I could tell that she’d been dyed. After a moment, the woman, a sleek silver streak dyed right in her hair, turned and noticed me. And I finally noticed, as she faced me, the ornament at her neck. She was wearing a collar.

I wanted to call for help, but again I stopped myself. There was no telling what would happen once I did. The situation was completely out of my hands, and I completely out of my element.

“I should hope we don’t need to list the rules one by one this time,” Candace had said, “Though I’m sure you could if you really wanted to. I trust you know them by heart.”

I clenched both hands to said heart, knowing what would happen if I didn’t. I would have to rely on it to get me through this. Remembering them was one thing; applying them was another. In theory, I had them down backwards and forwards, but I did still recall being apprehensive about how the night was going to go. And for good reason, it seemed.

“Yes, Mistress.” I had replied, though I wasn’t sure how long ago. “But- just to be clear-” I began to mutter- “If something is ordered of me? If they touch me?”

Candace- Mistress- had forced me to paint my nails: I expect to stop me eating them for dessert trying to chew my nerves away. Instead my fingers anxiously traveled the spine of her book as I held it to my chest. I served her and her alone, but that didn’t stop me from wanting to impress the rest of my owner’s family. What an adventure the past year had been- and yet I still stewed like I was meeting these people for the first time. I simply didn’t have enough leash left to fuck things up with them again.

She had stopped me there, gesturing me closer with a single finger. “You’ve got something on your face.” Candace had told me. Of course, as soon as I was close enough, that same finger was subsequently flicking me on the nose. “There. You’re much cuter without those worries on your face.”

“Ow!” I had whined. “What was that for!”

“That didn’t hurt.” Candace rightly asserted.

“Maybe not on the outside…”

“My lord, Chloe, you have got to get this whole perturbation of yours under wraps.” I remember Candace rubbing my ear between her fingertips. “You’re a smart girl. You can do this.”

That was the last I could remember seeing Candace before waking up here.

The woman approached me on her hands and knees, I could tell nervously. I backed away and she stopped just inside the other room. Much like I, she didn’t dare cross the open barrier between us. Her eyes, landing on my collar, followed the sight of the chain to the wall. Then, without leaving her knees, she raised her head to look across the room she found herself. I couldn’t see towards what. Or whom. But I saw in her what I recognized from myself as the apprehension of a slave.

Once again I studied her. She was taller than I. Sort of lanky. I hated my ability to observe such, but her body didn’t seem well used. She was pretty, however. And what movements I saw told me that mentally- maybe not physically- she was rugged in a way I could admire. Unfortunately for her, despite not being shackled in place, my fellow woman was very much in a predicament like my own.

The second time I watched her gaze across the adjacent room, I realized she was waiting for something. But as she had the first time, it ended in her slumping back down in place. I reckoned it was the attention of someone that she was trying to attract.

The other woman looked me up and down. “Don’t I know you?”

I shook my head. I certainly didn’t recognize her, and even if she was a fan of mine from a life I was trying to leave behind, no good reason crossed my mind as to why she would recognize me either.

But she kept staring at me, squinting. Until a look of realization suddenly spread across her face as it occurred to her. “I do. Aren’t you that girl-” She began, before quickly hesitating, lowering her voice as she scanned to make sure nobody else was listening to her whisper. “Aren’t you that girl who, like, totally dropped a huge chandelier onto all of those owners?”

I felt a lump forming in my throat swallowing nervously. Only then did I finally feel the ability of speech return to me. Being slaves, it didn’t feel appropriate to speak with her, but a part of me couldn’t help myself. “Yeah, actually.” I said with a bit of pride, and a bit of fear. “That was me.”

“Don’t tell my mistress I said this but like…” She cupped both hands around her mouth, and leaned into my ear. “That was so cool!”

It was nice to hear confirmation that she was a slave, as I was. As if I had needed much confirmation aside from the collar around her neck. But I gave an awkward smile, unsure what to say, yet flattered by the strange, unexpected compliment. Shirking back a bit, I saw her raise her head and- cupping her hands again- instead use them to help shout. “Mistress!”

The woman who came my way was a tad more recognizable. Although I only had a semblance of her name, I knew where I’d seen her last. A guest at my then owner’s- Claudia’s- banquet.

Dark hair flowed naturally from her. It was fluffy and light, kept more tightly on the left side of her hair and tied into a bun behind her head than on the right, where a good few locks hung freely. There were two moles hidden under them on her cheek.

The other floorbound girl- fellow slave- closed both of her eyes and tilted her gaze up, where the brunette woman could easily take hold of her locks. Her mistress softly played with the silver streak in her girl’s hair. The slave, whose name I would soon learn was Paige, quivered at the feeling of being oh so easily brought to a woman's feet to be played with, whipped by the hem of her sunset orange dress. The flow of sparks between them, although it was still visibly in the early stages of development, a clear indication of owner and slave. I would know.

“Fancy seeing you here again.” She looked at me- and only at me- with those subtle brown eyes, as if I had been who summoned her, as the girl who really had was now indisposed at her fingertips. I accepted then the realization that I was now in the presence of someone whom I owed respect. Hiding the displeasure on my lips, I bowed accordingly.

I didn’t like the feeling of high heels on the back of my head. That was something I learned long ago. A hiss escaped my lips, which I kept quiet, and I was lucky enough that she couldn’t hear it. If I could have located my owner, I would have fought it.

“Paige, you worthless woman-” I heard uttered, followed by the dropping of something metal- keys- onto the floor. “Make yourself useful.” I recognized her voice as one I’d heard not only once, but twice. I remembered where I met her. A small room at the facility- I was on sale- she called me a cutie.

Her slave, who I now knew was named Paige, took the key to my chain and unleashed me. I had developed a sense for telling who a slave belonged to. It was instinct. She had all the telltale signs of a slave in the presence of her owner. Someone who had truly mastered her. How else could you justify a girl such as her.

Paige obeyed with haste. Her posture, though sloppy, was beautifully dutiful, and the keys, against her better judgment, landed safely back in her mistress’ hands. She was well on her way to becoming her master’s slave. But you could still see that shadow in her eyes. That call from inside which cried and begged and plead, screaming for her to take this chance and run. Yet Paige had that ruggedness about her, the force of will to do what she must, no matter how hard, to stay on her knees and heed. It was thanks to her I was spared. Pyra, whose name I would soon remember, had no interest in me. And why should she have?

I was grateful to her as her owner stepped down from my head, rising from the floor, though hesitantly, up to my knees. Save her, that voice inside said. That shadow of doubt crept words in my ear. I wanted to see how her owner would treat her. It delighted to think what they might have been like.

A gravel filled voice suddenly spoke. “Something wrong, Pyra?” I heard from the adjacent room. Goosebumps scaled my skin. I lurched forward, crouching in the doorway as I rounded the corner with my gaze. Pyra no longer scared me.

Perhaps it was arrogance that propelled me through the door. Perhaps it was fear. Or perhaps it was sheer stupidity. But whatever the case, I leapt to my feet and ran. Those stormy blue eyes matched with mine, giving me that long disapproving glare.

“Chloe.” I heard him say, “Welcome back.”

I looked down as I spoke, as if addressing his steel toed boots. “Cyrus…”

Venturing beyond its confines, I was now able to discern the nature of my enclosure as a stall. Cramped and unlit, they lined three-quarters of the perimeter, standing in contrast against the wider space between, from whom the light which precipitated in was the only such to be seen. Here, brightness was factual. I kept my head down out of respect, not to anyone beneath, but to the joyless tiles of light broken only by a single flickering bulb in the otherwise clinical grid of blinding white squares. But although my senses threatened to shut down, I could still hear the sound of music, singing to me from further above, even if I couldn’t look up to face it.

Dizzy, my head spun in place. And it was a familiar place. More familiar faces. Unfamiliar faces. None of them hers. My pores poured bitter tears. Faced with an uncomfortable familiarity. I had spent enough time here to recognize its underbelly. I knew exactly where I was.

The facility.

“Scared are we?” Griffin taunted. “I bet you’re wondering why you’re back here.”

He wasn’t wrong either. Never did I expect this place to find me again, not after last time. This was the sale floor I’d been bought from. And these were the same visitors from that day. The people who could have bought me.

I remembered them all, albeit fuzzily, but having their friend in the back of my mind jump started my recognition. In order, there was Evan Johanson- a rich doctor with a penchant for wistfully wasting his day away, all smarmy and awful. Melissa Rockwell- the fake blonde with a drink in her hand, breath smelling like it wasn’t her first. Brandon March- the older gentleman who genuinely seemed sweet, and could have been mistaken for such if not for the arm around his lady friend's shoulder. And then there was Pyra Nouveau- the young, peppery attorney who, maybe despite my better nature, I was glad to see had found a cute unused slave to call her own. I shivered picturing myself with any of them, my potential owners. Something told me they remembered me as well as I did them.

Evan, the doctor, sat across the circle from Cyrus. He was immodest, lifting a bottle to his lips as he eyed me up and down. A shirtless boy was lying unconscious at his hip; complete with a collar around his neck. Johanson emptied the bottle into his mouth and over his chest, licking wet lips clean. He certainly seemed more interested in me now.

“Well well well, if it isn’t the good-for-nothing. Now isn’t that a surprise?” He said to me, and with a top of the cold bottle on the other boy’s chest the slave- Evan’s slave- stirred awake. “Oh, Oscar. Say hello to Miss Chloe.”

The brown-haired lad smacked both arms to his body in indignation, trying to cover himself as he shot to attention. Bruises sat all about his lower half. “H-Hello, Miss Chloe.” Oscar said. He only saw the collar around my neck after, but by then the words had already been said. I witnessed the shame wash over him.

Oscar’s master sneered in satisfaction. He tapped the boy's head to one thigh, letting the slave lay down. Evan’s fingers were soft in his toy’s hair. I hoped for them. “Kneel a sec,” he said.

I didn’t do so without deliberation. There was some security in having Cyrus behind me, whether or not he actually cared, his recognition counted for a lot. Except he hardly noticed me. That grumpy gaze was still there, but now more than I’d ever seen him Cyrus was lost in his own little world.

Evan waited for me to kneel before continuing. Even in the face of my obvious discomfort he ran his other hand through my sweat-soaked head of hair, stroking softly mimicking the way he was petting his own slave. I was prepared should he have tried to hurt me, but he never did.

“Ohoho!” The fake blonde- Melissa- snorted. “I’ll be- it’s little miss firecracker herself- come to burn down the party!”

“Look at you. She thinks she’s people.” Said the older gentleman- Brandon. “Poor thing can’t even sit up straight. How cute is that?” They smiled at each other before getting intimately close. I gave them some privacy.

“Pretty, ain’t she?” Asked the brunette in the bun and the boots, little Paige at her hip. “I thought you’d sold this one already, Cyrus. What, did your sister not want her anymore?”

A round of chuckles erupted surrounding me. It took everything I had, but I fought back the Sophia inside of me, who ached to teach that rotten bitch a lesson. In the end I didn’t care what was said about me. Only that they didn’t besmirch my owner’s name.

“Candace,” I mumbled. Desperately, I retreated from the ring of owners. Backing into her brother’s legs. “Cyrus please, I want Candace.”

“Doesn’t sound like it,” he said in his chewed up tone. Lilith’s boy had his mother’s face, her voice and her eyebrows. I could feel them driving their sharp edge into my skin, cutting across my eyes. “It sounds like you want a foot in your mouth.”

“Please, Sir.” I grimaced as I tongued the word. “I want to be with my Master.”

“You think I care what you want?” He taunted me with just three words- “You’re a slave.”

Cyrus bothered not speak another word to a slave. He was right, I was a slave, and as a slave I needed to find my owner. I was about to make my leave too, when right as I turned my back on him, Candace’s brother stood up, clutching my thick orange locks and dragging me to an empty seat to his left, dropping me onto my knees there.

“This is why I had you chained up.” He said. “Do you want to go back?”

Griffin knew the answer to that, of course, that was like asking a dog to return to the kennel. Needless to say, the shock of waking up in chains was still fresh. But he was by no means satisfied letting it go unsaid. I could tell how serious he was about it, how much he wanted to throw me back in there, and was just waiting to be given the chance. I resented him for that.

“Then stay put.” Cyrus ordered.

I never truly feared before this family got their hands on me. Yet despite my shame, I felt no trouble admitting to anyone, including myself, that in that moment I was afraid. We both knew it.

“She’s lucky.” I heard Paige’s owner say, her slave kneeling on the floor next to me.

Evan’s head shook. “You’d be stupid to call that luck,” he then turned his attention to me, and smiled. “Someone must really like you.”

“I’m shocked she lived.” Pyra replied.

“If she’d been mine she wouldn’t have.” Cyrus scoffed. “Then again, if she’d been mine, she would have known better.”

While there was no way of verifying whether that was true, in the absence of my owner, Candace’s brother was as good as I was going to get, so it felt unwise to needlessly take my chances with him. His friends proceeded to laugh at my expense- if you could even call them friends that is. They more resembled clients to me. It was always business with him after all.

It wasn’t until I felt his hand on top of mine that I discovered I had been holding onto his knee to support myself. For some reason I had fallen off of my legs and was now on my side rather than kneeling. This I found odd, because I didn’t remember doing that at any point. Yet here I was.

“I heard you the first time-” Cyrus said, clearly to me. In reference to what I wasn’t sure, but he hooked his fingers around mine, and using his strong grip, employed them to uncouple my hand from his knee. I was beginning to get the sense that something wasn’t quite right here, I just couldn’t put my finger on it yet.

“Damn girl, you are fucked…” Commented Oscar’s owner. The once shirtless slave was now fully awake, having been granted a jacket between now and however long ago I had woken up.

Together, the two slaves- Oscar and Paige- approached me on the floor. He held my other hand as she lifted a small bottle of water to my lips in hopes that I would drink it, which I wasn’t about to be ungrateful for. I could have sworn I’d never spoken to either of them before tonight, but as far as that went, a sudden sense of deja vu had me feeling like this wasn’t the first time today.

“I remember you guys!” I gasped. “You were on stage with my Candace! I saw you at the banquet!” Like a fangirl in a mosh pit, I couldn’t keep my voice down, unable to cage my excitement. “Yeah! Oscar, you were the pianist at the banquet! You look better with a shirt on.” I paused to giggle at him. The male slave looked down in embarrassment, quietly zipping his jacket when he thought I wasn’t looking, as I considered her. “And you! You played… Uhh…”

“Bass…” said Paige, with more than a hint of disappointment.

“Right! The bassist! Weren’t you the cute one who ran away screaming when the chandelier came down? Not very cool of you, huh?” I teased awkwardly. “Sorry. I’m not sure why I said that…”

I heard Cyrus laugh. “Jesus Christ. My sister wasn’t kidding when she said that shit was like a truth serum to you. What was that line you used- something about 3D glasses? Of course the last person who insulted my little sister’s eyes had one of hers cut out.”

The gears inside my head halted to a skid, like my brain refused to stop starting. The music was just so bright I could barely taste myself think. Over and over, I turned my thoughts, but always found them landing on their side. Not thinking- or perhaps fully unable to- I pushed past the other slaves and returned again to Cyrus. This time without even an ounce of fear, I replaced my hand, grabbing ahold of his knee to prop myself up, facing him with unblinking rage. “What the hell did you do to me?” I hissed accusingly. “Answer me right now, or so help me I will burn this place to the ground as well!”

Crack!! Before I had a chance to regret them, my words were forcibly stuffed down my throat. Suddenly I was reminded just how hard that man could hit. I crumpled to the ground, lying at his boots like a stepped on origami crane.

“There. That’s better. Peace and quiet. I preferred it when you were asleep.” As quickly as he’d smacked me down, Cyrus was up from his chair, again holding me by the head. Instead of bringing me back to his seat, however, Cyrus began to drag me the way I came. Right back to the little side room I’d been trapped in, where he finally had a chance to tell me off in private.

“Why did you punch me?” was a stupid question to ask, but it was far from the dumbest thing I’d said tonight, even to him. “Candace doesn’t even punch me…”

Cyrus held up his hand, ready to cuff me. “The only reason I haven’t done worse is because you belong to my sister, and unfortunately for you, Candace isn’t here to protect you right now, I am, so I better not hear her name out of that mouth of yours again, or I will show you just how hard I can protect you.”

“You’re a monster,” I mumbled.

“No, Candace is a sweetheart.” he snarled. “You’re getting off better than you deserve, and after everything I’ve done for you, I have the right to give you the retribution my sister is afraid to.”

My gaze shifted back to the chain rusting on the floor of the stall, “and what have you ever done to help me?”

I flinched as Cyrus’ moved his hand, expecting another blow, but what I got instead was a hard, stern flick to my pointed ear, waking my senses from the sterile white noise.

“We both know the answer to that,” Cyrus said. “Now shut the fuck up, and listen.”

As I watched with open ears, trying to read the words on his lips, I realized I wasn’t really hearing at all. It wasn’t until I stopped looking for answers and actually listened that my closed eyes began seeing the world around me. That music from earlier wasn’t just some song playing from the speakers, it was the sound of someone’s voice, serenading us from above.

“Let this be a valuable lesson-” Cyrus said with a fist curled tight into my hair, and as soon as we had stopped we were on the move again.

I bit my tongue and hoped it would be over soon, keeping as quiet as I could as we approached a set of stairs leading up. I followed behind him as best I could, but Cyrus moved faster than I could handle on all fours, and refused to slow down for me, causing my thighs to thud against every step, all the way up until we reached the top. We exited into what looked like a generic hallway, obvious from a glance that we were now on the ground floor of the facility, delivered from its stomach below. Directly next to the door, on the wall behind us now was the room number: twenty-two. I wasn’t sure whether the number had any significance to it specifically, but I now knew that room twenty-two did not exist, rather, the room labeled as such was actually a stairwell down to the basement.

Failing onto my feet, feeling like a fool, I finally mangled myself into a position where my knees weren’t being dirtied against the floor. The facility’s veins curved impossibly, twisting and bending into a labyrinth of increasingly narrow straightaways. The only thing preventing us from becoming lost it felt was that singing coming from room nineteen, and as we got closer it became even more crystal exactly whose song it was.

“Red Rebel… Don’t worry… Don’t be in… A hurry… I worry…” Candace’s voice filled the room as I walked in, my heart racing as I waited for her to notice me. “Red Rebel… I’m a- Chloe!”

The background music- which was being provided by a pair of two slaves with their instruments- stopped just as promptly, as the faces of everyone there turned towards the two of us. The other pair of folks in the audience weren’t anyone I’d met before, but introductions were hardly the first thing on my mind at the moment.

“Cyrus! I thought I told you not to let her up until I was done!” Candace exclaimed.

At long last Cyrus dropped me on my knees, finally giving me relief from his hand. “That was before your brat woke up and started causing problems again.”

My face reflected off of her sunglasses as Candace looked at me, unable to return my gaze or confront myself in her eyes. I could feel in her tone of voice how disappointed she was in me. “Chloe…” Candace frowned. I hated her frown with a passion, how that curled lip twisted my heart. All of my fear up to this point now paled like Candace’s skin in comparison to this shame.

A lump in my throat formed as I swallowed nervously. Only now was I getting to see my owner again, and I could already feel the trouble I was going to be in.

We were greeted lastly by a throbbing gasp from someone I did know, though I didn’t recognize her at first. Usually she was so full of energy, every word out of her mouth bounced. Not anymore. I would have expected to find Liz around here somewhere, but I didn’t expect to find her like this. “M-Master!” She cried as she shot to her feet. Her entire left side was bruised. Cyrus’ slave wheezed as she breathed, body hunched slightly to the side, trying to deflect some manner of pain. On seeing him though, she straightened up.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” He scoffed. “Who told you that you could sit down?!”

His slave weakly stuttered, unable to say a word in the face of her owner. “I- I- I-”

“I did.” Said my own master as Candace stepped down from her makeshift stage. “Elizabeth looked like she needed a rest.”

Cyrus didn’t grow angry with his sister, only giving her a shaking head. “Come on, Candace. You’re too nice.”

“ I’m too nice?” Candace asked.

I had the exact same thought- Candace was too nice?

I shouldn’t have been surprised but it was still amazing how differently he acted towards my owner than with me, or even with his own slave for that matter. The two of them continued like there was nobody else in the room. Despite their two slaves waiting desperately for their attention, I suspect we both knew better than to be anything but onlookers.

“Look, sis. You know I always have your back. But I’m worried about you. These ‘people’ are more like wild animals. They’re dogs. If you don’t train them right they can be dangerous.”

“Oh yeah- because you know a lot about training dogs.”

“All I’m saying is you need to be more careful. Your mutt may behave around you, but unless you can control her while you’re away, you need to keep her on a shorter leash. We don’t want another Cur on our hands.” Cyrus spat. “Not after what that mongrel did to my Elizabeth.”

Aghast, Candace stood there in shock, giving her brother a heartbroken look. Along with them, all of room nineteen fell away into silence. Their only accompaniment now an echo of a gasp.

“I’m sorry. That just… slipped out…” Cyrus replied. For the first time, what I saw on his face was almost a look of shame, but as always when it came to him, it didn’t take long for any sign of emotion to fade. “Hey Tim? Could you and Tina…” he motioned for the door with his head. “Tell your parents I’ll be back momentarily.”

“No sweat,” the other man said, “Juneau. Kyle. Come on.” The pair of musicians made for the door, preceded by the taller man. Both kept their heads down and out of trouble as they passed me, unlike the small, quiet woman pursuing them, scanning me as she brought up the rear.

My owner took a seat there on the bed. Room nineteen, for being inside the facility, was as ordinary as any other hospital suite. Seeing my chance, I crawled along the flat, minimalist tile to the bedside, planting firmly within reach. This irked her brother, placing himself in the chair now vacated by his slave, who now hovered over the shoulder behind him. Liz had that signature grimace of someone who’d spent far too long on their feet already, and I bet was beginning to regret resting her legs when she had.

“Of course now you start behaving.” Cyrus said.

Had my owner been absent I would have given him the stink eye, but now that I was back with her, that was both inappropriate and unnecessary. Unlike Candace and her family, I didn’t antagonize for fun. There was no sense doing so for no reason. In fact, now that I had reunited with his sister, no one else was even worth my attention.

“He hurt me, Mistress…” As expected, the words just sort of spilled from me. But as they did, I found my lips pressed closed by Candace’s finger.

“Silence now,” she said. “I’ll hear from you in a moment.”

I nodded in compliance.

“You mean you actually listen to the things she says?” Cyrus sounded amused. “No wonder she walks all over you.”

“My slave does not walk all over me, brother.”

“Oh yeah? What do you call that?” He asked, pointing to a scar on Candace’s left breast.

Candace calmly dressed her cleavage. “That was a long time ago,” she said. “Chloe knows better now.”

“Does she?” Cyrus asked. “Or have you gotten even softer than you already were?”

“I am not soft!” My owner cried. “The only person trying to walk all over me right now is you!”

Candace immediately put her foot down.

“If my slave has done something wrong, I’ll punish her, and if you’ve done something wrong, I’ll punish you too! And since you clearly don’t wanna talk to me, I’ll hear from her first.”

Cyrus shook his head, promptly standing up from his chair. “Meet us back downstairs when you’re ready,” he said. Candace’s brother took a sharp turn towards Elizabeth and hoisted her by the arm to take with him. Like I had, she stumbled behind him, barely capable of keeping up, and the two disappeared further into the facility.

Helplessly, I watched Candace drop, setting her sunglasses down before rubbing those mismatched eyes. The skin around them was already raw.

“…Master?” I began cautiously. “What’s going on? Why are we at the facility?”

“What do you mean?” Mistress asked. “I told you all this on the way here. Surely you remember that much.”

“I assure you I do not.”

“Oh don’t start yipper yapping like you’re esteemed. You’re not high class, Chloe. You’re a mutt. You ought to reflect that.” Candace rubbed her temples in annoyance.

Although I did want to make a comeback, I knew when and when not to test her, instead bowing my head in submission. “Yes, Master…”

“Better.” Candace said. “You were doing great. What happened?”

“I don’t know, Ma’am. I’m not even sure how I got here. Last I remember, we were at home…”

“Lord alive- don’t tell me the drugs fucked you up that bad?” Mistress let out a deep sigh. “I thought for sure you could handle them better.”

My heart stopped. “You mean… you drugged me, Ma’am?”

“Yes. Yes I did.” she admitted. “You must have blacked out at the party.”

“But why would you do that?”

“I don’t know. To make you more fun? You were a nervous wreck, you needed something to take the edge off. Which reminds me…” Her thoughts trailed off. “Let’s just head downstairs. I need another drink.”

I hesitated, staying on my knees and looking to the floor. I certainly didn’t want to face Cyrus again, but seeing the nerves on my face, my owner crouched next to me. She put her hand on my ear, gently squeezing my earlobe.

“Don’t worry, slave. I’ll take care of everything.”

And so we returned down the monster’s throat.

“Apologies for that, folks. We’re here now.” Candace put on a cheery face as we returned to our seats, mine at the foot of her no longer empty chair. It was like any other she wore for the camera, trying to mask her true feelings as she played her little game. “Refreshments?”

From the adjacent seat, Cyrus snapped his fingers, prompting Liz to approach shakily with a tray of assorted alcohol, which I retrieved a bottle from to pour out into my owner’s glass.

“Now which of you unchained my slave without telling me first?” Candace asked the room.

Pyra looked up from her seat, then down at her feet. “Why- that would be my little Paige here.” She said as she kicked the girl.

Candace held out an open hand. “Then I’ll be taking my keys back from her now.”

Paige’s owner merely rolled her eyes- producing the keys from behind and dropping them into Paige’s hand, who proceeded to crawl towards us, presenting Candace with the keys.

“Thank you,” Candace said, petting the girl’s silver streak. “I hope my precious slave-girl here didn’t cause too much trouble.”

“She certainly lives up to her reputation,” said Pyra Nouveau. “ The Glass Devil. ”

“The Glass Devil?” Candace said with a chuckle. “You mean angel?”

“Your slave.” Pyra replied. “We all saw what she did that night, after all. It seems your pet has developed a bit of a myth about her, the Glass Devil has become something of a legend.”

“First I’m hearing about it.”

Candace’s brother looked over at us out of the corner of his eye, leaned back in his seat, unamused. “That’s because you haven’t had to deal with the fallout, like I have.” He said. “Things were peaceful around here before the banquet. But ever since I’ve had to field calls from unhappy customers about how their slaves have become disobedient. Started rebelling.” Cyrus glared straight at me as he spoke, projecting his seething rage for my ears only. “Thankfully, none of them yet have attempted to escape. And I would like to keep it that way.”

My owner swished the drink in her hand, staring down at it sensually. “But I mean- Glass Angel- that’s kind of a dumb name, don’t you think?” Candace shot back the drink and held it towards me. Quickly, I perked up, pouring from the bottle I was holding for her. “Mockery isn’t classy…”

“Have you at least gotten your pest under control?” Cyrus asked in irritation.

“I always have my pet under control, Cyrus. Do you?” Candace passed a glance towards Elizabeth. “In fact, since waking up, my Chloe has been nothing but well behaved for me. It’s not my fault if you couldn’t tame her. You should have come to me.”

The rest of the room began to laugh at that, which Cyrus antithetically didn’t seem to take issue with, instead leaning back and letting out a sigh of relief at his guest’s satisfaction. “As long as everyone’s having fun…”

Of course by everyone, Cyrus didn’t mean me—or Oscar, Paige, Juneau, Kyle, or any of the other enslaved men and women this place had eaten alive—and he most certainly didn’t mean Elizabeth. He meant the two siblings, and the other two siblings, and those two’s parents and the other two owners in the room, who went on conversing, having their fun while the rest of us sat idly by, kneeling and waiting on them. Again, with the exception of Elizabeth. The girl looked like she couldn’t kneel even if she wanted to. Oh how I pitied her position of belonging to Cyrus Griffin. He must have been putting her through the wringer lately.

Elizabeth shot me a look just as I retreated my head, looking back down at my knees. Liz always seemed so different. Like nothing she could do would get her in trouble. Seeing her now, I clearly knew better. And I hated being faced with that. What a person became when they sacrificed all of themselves to their owner. My worst fear come to life.

As soon as it was appropriate, I put my hand on his knee again, giving Cyrus my best smile as I whispered to him. “I’m sorry about your mother…”

Cyrus seemed barely moved, prying my hand away with his fingers once more. “I heard you the first time, remember?” he sighed. “But thanks, again…”

“See, brother? Chloe’s not such a bad girl. I’m sure there’s a perfectly fine explanation for any of the trouble she might have caused. Isn’t that right, sweetie?”

I hung my blushing head, hesitating with my words. “He… Mr. Griffin wouldn’t tell me where you were…”

“You scared her,” said my owner. “My handmaiden does not react well when scared, especially when without her matron.”

Cyrus looked shocked. “Handmaiden?”

“Why, yes. My mother was father’s maiden, and Chloe is mine.” Candace said with a smile.

Finally, the rest of the group chimed in, very sarcastically. “A toast to the happy couple .”

Candace’s gaze shifted to me next. “If you want to go home, we can.”

“We don’t have to go home just because I want to.” I said.

“But you do want to go home?”

“Yes, Ma’am…”

“Then don’t argue. We’re going home.” She ordered. “If you’re not having fun, I’m not either. And as it turns out, I still have to punish someone for how they acted without me.”

“That’s more like it,” Cyrus said with a smirk. He sounded proud of his little sister. “Good luck.”

“I don’t need luck.” Candace teased. “You can insult my slave all you’d like, just don’t insult me in the process. Now say goodbye, my slave. It’s time we head home.”

“Goodbye, Cyrus.” I said at my master’s request, curtsying for the rest of the guests. “Bye Liz.”

Liz did her best to smile through the pain, bowing her head slightly. “Goodnight…”