Adam's Slave

t w e l v e -Adam

Lamar whimpered, his hands twitching on his sides. He knew better than to try and pull away, however, and so his only way of sending me subtle messages telling me that he was reaching a limit were soft sounds emitted from his throat.

I pulled away, watching as the little wound on his neck oozed little more blood. Circling his wrist with one arm, I used the other to snatch a gauze saturated with alcohol, and wipe away, before pressing it to his neck and using the tape to keep it in place. It was all part of the ritual I started a few years ago, designed to keep them alive longer.

A slave, precisely a human, would be too weak to do any of the care-taking himself after too much blood withdrawn, they usually passed out. It was one of the mistakes I committed often as a youngster, leaving them with a bleeding neck or arm that desperately needed attending.

Without the support of my body, I had no doubt Lamar would've slid to the floor halfway through the session. He couldn't give as much as Alois gave, or half of what Dante's body could. In fact, the last two weeks had proved that I could probably take my fill from Dante one day and one day out, and he'd still be up and going not two minutes later. With that said, I could have him be my sole blood provider without affecting his day to day health. Wallis hadn't lied when it came to that particular trait.

But I had grown accustomed to tasting different types that by the third time I had Dante, I was ready to move on.

I laid him on the bed, his eyes were open, a dreamy look in them, as he'd been moonstruck, it was something I was used to seeing often.

"You did well." I found that praise made them try harder next time, for the fear of disappointing, apparently, almost was as pressing as the fear of punishment and consequences if they messed up.

He opened his mouth to speak, but I shook my head. And brushing his hair away from his sweaty forehead, I ordered, "Rest now, you're weak. We'll talk tomorrow." I'll be skinning you alive tomorrow.

The bandages on his arm only came off yesterday, but the raw, scarred skin was easily noticeable. And will be for a long time. It was an ugly scar, and whether he'll be admitting the misdeed that led him to acquiring it, or whining about the man who gave it to him, would remain til tomorrow. I hadn't seen him since that night I was woken up from my slumber. And ever since I've started giving the slaves the extra attention of setting them to bed and allowing monthly trips outside the house to places of their choosing, they've been more forthcoming. Not that I listened to what they had to say, usually waving them off. It didn't deter them, usually, for whatever they had to ask for was trivial and basic, and was granted eventually.

I stood up, and opening the package I'd received only that morning, I got out the gas mask with the little modification I asked for. The cylindrical piece came attached to a piece where I could put my crushed happy pills in.

I'd been planning this for few days, and now that I had the means to do it, I could wait no longer. My eagerness to leave the room down to the dungeon was too apparent, it seemed, because my sister's frown as she stopped me was not pretty. "You look in a good mood."

"I am. And right now, you're distracting me from th main course of my meal."

"You didn't sell him." She wasn't asking.

"I had iron bars installed at the place of the door and have him chained to the floor at all times of the day."

She wasn't deterred, "That's not what we agreed on."

"He only lashed out because he was poked. There's no one to poke him in solitary. And that's where I've been keeping him."

"Adam." She breathed, her demeanor told me she didn't believe she was even having this conversation in the first place, "My kids live under this same roof. You can't put them in the line of danger just so you could have your fun."

"You want proof he's as broken in as he'll ever be?"

"I want proof that he'd never hurt my children."

"I can deliver that."

She arched a disbelieving eyebrow, and I waved her off, I wasn't waiting any longer to get what I had in mind in motion. Her angry steps away were proof she doubted me, but was willing to let it run its course.

The metal was well oiled, so the door didn't creek when I moved it open. Dante sat right where I left him, as if he hadn't moved an inch, but I knew that wasn't true. He had eaten and had a bathroom break not two hours ago.

He smiled when his eyes landed on me, and that always left unanswered confusion in my mind. How could he be so happy to see me when I often braught nothing but pain and blood to that dungeon, it was a mystery remaining to be solved. Or perhaps it was clear as the day, he was the one, as his handler promised.

"We're playing today." I greeted, getting him out. He crawled out of his cage, and sat on his knees, glancing up at me. I didn't mind the eye contact, I encouraged it more often than not. And he's become familiar with my moods, enough to know when it was safe to meet my eyes.

"Get up, first, you can stretch." He was sore from being left there for a along time. I knew his muscled to be cramped.

He obeyed, and I took the time to appreciate his shapely legs and thighs, my eyes roaming and landing on his pierced nipples, they gleamed a bright gold. They've long since healed, and playing with them has become a favorite sport of mine, he produced the sweetest of sounds when he was given leave to relax.