Sold To The Master Page 3

  “And how long before that happens?”

  Darla shrugs, putting away that dish and moving on to the next. “They usually give you three to four years to fall pregnant, depending on your age, but you look young enough to be fertile for a few years yet?”

  “I’m 30,” I say. “So yes, a few more years.”

  Darla nods. “Thought so. You’ll probably get four years to fall pregnant, and then you’ll be cycled out to something else. Depends on how many women the master can find. He tries to bring in fresh blood fairly regularly, but with the female population dwindling that’s getting harder and harder as the years pass. If he can’t get new women he’ll just keep trying with you, until you show all the signs of being past child-bearing age.” She says it so matter of factly. “At least, that’s what his father did. None of the boys seem to have fallen far from that tree, let me tell you.”

  “At least four years.” I didn’t mean to speak the thought aloud.

  “You look strong. You’ll survive it.”

  I’ve no doubt I’ll survive it, physically, but what condition will my spirit be in by the end of all that. It’s already damaged enough as it is.

  I brush the thought aside.

  “Thanks,” I turn to her, and nod my head in appreciation. “For everything.”

  Darla waves her hand. “Don’t mention it.”

  An alarm rings out, and there’s a sudden bustle of movement in the hall.

  “That’s the sign it’s time to get ready for the selection.”

  “The selection?”

  Darla looks at me. “When the Master comes around, to pick a partner for tonight. You’ve got three hours to wash and clean, and polish yourself up to your brightest possible shine.”

  “Do I want to be chosen?”

  Darla shrugs. “It’s better not to be. But in the long run if you’re found to not be making an effort then you’re punished for it. Best to make an effort from the beginning, at least if you’re not chosen, it’s not from lack of trying.”

  I finish off the last few dishes and make my way to the bathroom, where all the showers are already taken. Other women line the sinks, pushing and shoving to get to the makeup that has suddenly appeared since the morning. I don’t want to be in amongst that, so I follow the bubble of noise down the hall, where women are trying on dresses of various styles and shapes.

  They’re all extremely low cut around the neck, and either super short, or with a slit up the side so one whole leg is exposed whenever we move.

  Most women are gushing over the beautiful material, and I can’t blame them. If their previous position was anything like mine, they probably did not have anything even remotely beautiful to enjoy for themselves.

  I pick out a long dress, the front scooping almost low enough to reach my belly button.

  Back in the bathroom there’s one shower free and I claim it, scrubbing every inch of me clean. There’s a razor, and an instruction to remember to remove all excessive hair, which almost makes me laugh.

  What is excessive? What if he prefers his women bald? I can’t see the women here shaving their heads, somehow.

  I start on my under arms, and then move to my legs.

  It takes longer than it should, and soon someone is pounding on the door to my stall, telling me I’m taking too long.

  I finish up, and move to the mirrors and the makeup.

  There’s such a nervous energy amongst all the women, such a vying for this color or that one, or this perfume, or that oil.

  With an infertile partner, it’s not like any of these women are getting free anytime soon, but when I mention that I get the worst stares.

  “How does she know he’s infertile?” A woman asks. “Maybe it’s the women that are infertile. Maybe I’ll be the one to have his baby.” Her energy swirls in desperate hope. She doesn’t want to be in this situation any more than the rest of us.

  I shake my head. “All the women he’s ever been with? That’s unlikely.”

  “And what would you know about it?”

  I open my mouth to tell them what I saw in his energy, and then close it again.

  Memories of being tied to a stake, and surrounded with people chanting ‘Burn the Witch,' is enough to shut me up.

  They don’t need to know I’m a witch. My life will be much, much easier if they never find out.

  Chapter 3

  We don’t get to eat before we’re directed, single-file, out the door, and across the yard, to the Master’s viewing room.

  Once there we’re directed to line up, and advised to do our best to look as flirtatious as possible.

  I roll my eyes. Flirting has never been my strong point, even with people I’m attracted to. Much easier to just be told what to do. At least then I know where I stand, and what’s expected of me.

  Around me all the girls start fake giggling, fluttering eyelashes and pushing out their breasts, and the Master hasn’t even entered the room yet.

  I sigh, earning me a raised eyebrow from the woman next to me. “At least we’ve got one less competition,” she says with a laugh, and everyone turns to look.

  “This is a waste of time,” I mutter, earning a snigger from the entire group, who roll their eyes and turn back to their practice flirting.

  Finally he arrives, looking as grumpy as ever, and even the row of beautiful women, all fawning over him, doesn’t seem to improve his mood.

  I take a deep breath and straighten my spine, and then raise my chin. I won’t do this flirting thing, I won’t pretend to be hot for someone I’m not. Maybe in time I’ll become desperate enough to behave like the rest of these women, but for now I just can’t bring myself to that level.

  And if it saves me a night from having to sleep with the man, then that’s at least one night I’ll sleep soundly.

  His eyes roam across us all, some women lowering their heads to look up at him, others acting all coy, watching him from out of the corner of their eyes. Some manage to blush, whether by accident or design I don’t know, and I’m sure he’s going to select one of them.

  But then his gaze meets mine.

  I narrow my eyes ever so slightly, and hold his gaze. The last thing I want is his hands all over me, and I make sure to express that in my gaze.

  He frowns.

  “You.” He points at me.

  That can’t be right.

  I glance around, hoping there’s someone standing just behind me that he might be pointing to instead, but the women deserted our line the moment he appeared, and I’m standing alone.

  “Me?”

  “Are you deaf? Blind? You.”

  There’s a collective gasp of shock.

  “But Sir, she’s nothing.” The woman who had singled me out earlier places a hand on his chest. “She’s no one. She doesn’t even care for you. I’ll care for you.” Her voice drops to a seductive whisper, and I’m certain he’ll fall for it.

  He doesn’t. He pushes her away with a look of disgust, and gestures to me to follow him.

  “You.”

  The other girls are ushered back out to our quarters, and I reluctantly follow him up a hallway to his own bedroom.

  Is this punishment? Did he see how much I despise him, and pick me for punishment? Probably.

  I ought to learn that no matter how cocky I might look, if he has power over me, and knows he has power over me, it’s not going to be anywhere near as effective.

  We enter the room, where he commands me to shut the door behind me. He sits on the bed, and begins to take off his shoes.

  “Strip.”

  The command is so unexpected I speak without thinking.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  He glares at me.

  “I said, strip.” He circles a finger through the air, as though to encompass me. “Take off all that.”

  No pretence here then. Though I have to say I like that better than all the other masters I’ve had, who all liked to ever so slowly undress me like some sort of present, and for
ce me to pretend I was enjoying it, too.

  I reach down to remove one of my shoes. “That’s charming,” I say, fumbling with the clasp.

  His glare only deepens.

  If looks could kill I’m pretty sure I’d be dead by now.

  “I’m not here to be charming,” he says, setting his shoes by the bed, and moving on to roll off his socks. “And neither are you. Let’s just get this over with.”

  That’s not an attitude I’ve come across before. While I’m always keen to get this sort of thing over with, previous Master’s have always wanted to make it last, to extend everything for their own pleasure.

  It’s enough to surprise me into speaking my mind, something I haven’t done in years.

  “Women are more likely to fall pregnant if they’re relaxed, and comfortable,” I say. “Too much stress energy affects their fertility.” It’s partially true, although of course a woman can still get pregnant when she’s scared and stressed, but if there are other obstacles present, than adding stress to the mix doesn’t help anything.

  He grunts, and sets his socks down on his shoes.

  A thought occurs to me.

  “Do you not like women?”

  He’s in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt, and he stops, sets both feet firmly on the floor, and looks at me, his brow furrowed.

  He’s going to hit me now, I know it. I bite my tongue, wishing I’d just kept my mouth shut and followed orders, like a good slave.

  “Is this why you were sold? Because you ask too many questions, and don’t bother to simply do the things you’ve been instructed to do?”

  That surprises me.

  Words, not actions.

  For the first time I get the strongest sense that he is really not the violent type. If this were my last master, I’d already be beaten black and blue by now. The thought makes me brave, and I can’t help but push the limits, to try to find out exactly where they are.

  “My previous master thought he could do amazing things with my magic,” I say. “And when I couldn’t he sold me. He loved women. He had no problem dragging this sort of thing out for hours, though.”

  “I love women, too.” He seems exasperated, embarrassed almost, by my suggestion that he didn’t like women. “I just don’t like fucking for the sake of producing an heir. It gets tiresome after a while, if your main purpose in having sex is to produce children. It rather takes the fun out of it.”

  I nod. “I can imagine.” I risk sitting next to him on the bed, still fully dressed except for that one shoe.

  He shakes his head. “With so few women in the world, it’s hard to find a partner. We just have to keep trying though. My father had all sorts of troubles conceiving a child. It wasn’t until he was in his fifties that he found a woman to give him a son, and then it took time before another one came along.”

  “We? You and your siblings?”

  He nods. “I have three brothers, two older than me, one younger. None of them have managed to father a child. It’s become somewhat of a race, because whoever manages it will inherit the most from my father.”

  I reach out a hand, and begin to rub his back. I can see from his energy that there’s so much tension there, and when I apply some pressure he stretches out his back, pressing against my hand.

  “That feels good,” he says.

  “Do you think—” I hesitate, and he looks at me.

  “What?”

  I shake my head. “Never mind.”

  “No. You started a thought, now you have to continue it. That’s an order. Do I think what?”

  I bite my lip. This thought is bound to get me beaten.

  “Do you think it might be a problem of male fertility problems, running in your family?”

  He pulls away as though he’s been burned.

  “There’s nothing wrong with me, or my brothers,” he says, but I can see the confusion in his eyes. Has he really never thought about the possibility before?

  He stands. “And it’s none of your business anyway. You have no right to question me, or my family. My father took years to impregnate a woman, it’s just you women, that’s all. You’re the ones who’re infertile. Not us.”

  He shakes his head. “Get out of here. Go back to your quarters. Have Darla send someone else, I don’t care who.”

  As I slip on my shoe I feel a surge of relief that I won’t be forced to do the deed tonight, but what will that mean for my future?

  It seems certain now that he’s not going to be violent, but how else could he react? If I’ve angered him, will he send me away? Sell me off again?

  I don’t know what to expect, and mingled with my relief is a tinge of fear.

  Have I made things worse for myself, after only one day?

  Darla is surprised when I return so soon, and even more surprised to learn she’s been tasked with picking another girl to send up to Sidney.

  “He normally prefers to do these things himself,” she mutters, hurrying off to find which girl is still mostly dressed up enough to send off to the Master.

  When she returns she offers me a cup of tea.

  “They were all starting to get undressed, and wash away their makeup,” she says. “But one was still prancing around in her attire, so I sent her off. She was rather excited, poor thing.”

  Darla glances at me. “It might mean you’ll be the brunt of jokes for a while, the first women to be rejected by the Master.”

  It seems an odd thing to say, seeing as I was the first of this group to see him. “Will they know?”

  “If they talk with the other women they will.”

  I shrug. “I really don’t care. As long as I don’t have to get intimate with him tonight, that’s fine by me.”

  “What on earth happened?”

  I risk a glance at Darla’s frowning face. “I argued with him.”

  “You what?” She rubs an ear, as though it hasn’t worked, and she hasn’t heard correctly.

  I take a sip of my tea before answering. “I suggested that maybe he and his brothers were infertile.”

  Darla’s eyes widen. “You did what?” she repeats. I look up, and she’s shaking her head. “I’ve never known anyone to dare suggest such a thing.” She pauses, then her gaze meets my own, her eyes full of curiosity. “How did he take it?”

  My mouth turns up at the corners. I don’t mean to smile, but I really can’t help it.

  “He got very defensive. Told me it was not my place to question him or his family, and that it had taken his father many years before he got a woman pregnant, and that’s all he needed, time, and that it was us women who were the problem.”

  Darla laughs. “That sounds about right. They always blame the women, never themselves. What an idea, as if the men could be the problem?”

  I take a deep breath, my face turning serious. “My last master would’ve beaten me to within an inch of my life if I’d dared say anything against him. I instantly regretted opening my mouth. I was so certain he’d hit me.

  Darla reaches out to cover my hand with one of her own. “Master Sidney’s not like that, thank goodness. Though his brothers can be, and if he’s had enough of you he may pass you on to them.”

  My heart plummets, and she must see it on my face because she gives my hand a squeeze. “I wouldn’t worry, yet. He won’t want to hand you over until he’s had some time to try and breed you. He’d be devastated if he passed you to another of his brothers and you fell pregnant, it would be the worst thing ever. So you have time. Just, perhaps, ease up on being so confrontational? You’re the first woman we’ve had through here that I’ve found a connection with. I’d rather like it if you could stay a while.”

  A small smile creeps across my face. It’s so nice to have found a friend. And so rare, too. “I’d rather like that, too.”

  The days pass, every day with the same routine. Up for our chores, then lounging about until the alarm rings to alert us that it’s time to get ready.

  Some women have formed friendshi
p groups, that I can’t seem to penetrate. Not that it worries me too much, now I have Darla. The other women, the ones kept over from before, keep to themselves.

  I try talking to one of them, but she looks at me like I’m strange and turns away. I get a similar response from the other two, who look so weary and worn out, I decide there’s not much point in bothering.

  “I don’t do anything to please the master,” the last one says as I turn to leave the room. Nothing except exactly what I’m told, lay there, and take it. No skill in that. I don’t know why he’s kept me behind.”

  I nod, and she returns to her reading.

  At least I know they won’t be sharing the fact that I’m the first to be rejected by the Master, though as time goes on it doesn’t seem to matter, as night after night the women are kept for what seems to be a set amount of time, and then returned.

  Never as early as I was.

  The pampering is a nightmare, women who are at least civil to each other during the day turning into worst enemies, snatching makeup and dresses and jewellery that they decide they want for themselves.

  I wonder at the point of it, shaving legs, applying lipstick. He doesn’t care. Why make us do this, day after day?

  I do my best to stay out of it, and it’s not hard. The women refuse to acknowledge my existence, most of the time. And as I do not care to be the sparkliest woman with the most exposed cleavage there’s no one fighting with me for the dresses I pick, or the jewellery.

  Every night Master Sidney’s eyes catch mine, and he narrows his eyes, and I fear again that I’ll be chosen, and that this time there’ll be no escaping the intimate act. But every night he moves on to the next woman, and I’m left feeling a mixture of relief and dread. It has to happen sometime, perhaps it would’ve been better to be the first, and get it over and done with. At least then I’d know what to expect from that point onwards.

  The women say little about their time with the Master, except for boasts about how well they pleased him, and how he claimed he desperately wanted only them, but was forced by his father to sleep with as many women as possible, to increase his chances of children. Given his attitude on the night I saw him, this seems unlikely. He seemed completely uninterested in the act, and I can’t imagine that would change quickly.