Adam's Slave

twenty two -Dante

He had me close to him throughout the night, tweaking my ringed nipples in between fetching his drinks for him. He talked to humans, saying his hellos, before joining a group of them. They pointed at the different men performing, making their comments, before one of them asked my Master about the marks on my back and body.

I knew it was going to come up, I just wasn't expecting it to come up that way, or that quickly.

I didn't hear my Master's answer, it didn't matter, but I knew that the man's line of question died with another topic replacing it.

I was in a daze, with so much information circling in my brain, so much I didn't understand, so much I wanted explained.

I don't know how it had happened, but one moment I was kneeling next to him, over thinking everything I have accidentally heard earlier that day, and the next, I was at the stage.

I had thought that we'd spent the night watching, my Master observing. But as he was downing his fifth glass of alcohol, a man on the stage announced that his submissive is unable to be here, and that he was looking for a substitute to take his place in his scene. My Master was very quick to offer me for the enjoyment of crowd.

He walked me backstage, his hand on the small of my back, guiding me through the crowd.

The man who was to be my temporary master at the scene shook hands with my owner, intoroducong himself, "Chris Willis."

"Adam Smith," then he petted my shoulder, "And this is Dante."

"A pleasure,"

They exchanged pleasantries before the Chris started asking about my preferences. I knew what this was, I was well aware of the practice humans called BDSM, it was a child's play compared to anything I've had gone through. I knew that not all humans knew that slavery was still practiced, and even fewer had access to it at all.

BDSM was their way of letting go, but they did it all wrong according to anyone who owned a slave or was a slave himself. I didn't have preferences, my preferences were my Master's. And I didn't have a safeword, because no word I could ever utter would stop a warranted punishment. This was textbook. Something all slaves knew and memorized by heart.

But my Master seemed to think about it, taking a moment before he answered the man, and once he did, he delivered the line too well, that I almost believed him. "He doesn't like crops. And he's not allowed to release, but do feel free to tease him. Otherwise, you're welcome to do as you wish, within the club's guidelines, of course."

Chris nodded solemnly, "Of course,"

"He's got a thick skin, my boy."

"Pardon?"

My Master got close, too close to the man's face, and then whispered, "Don't target his back, nor cut him up."

The man's eyes glazed over, then he nodded. My Master moved a step back, his arm going around my waist and pulling me towards him, he lowered his lips closer to mine, and kissed me.

His tongue penetrated my mouth the way no other part of him has, it was peculiar and exciting and frightening all at once. And it was all for show.

My Master doesn't make a habit of kissing slaves, he doesn't make a habit of indulging one when he goes to deepen the kiss, which is what,he was doing now. Indulging me as I took advantage of the situation, moving my hand to touch his chest. Our bodies collided, and amidst all the tongue and lips, I felt his clothed shaft againt my bare skin, hard.

I moved my hip against his hardness, testing the boundaries. I've never felt this bold with him, he never gave me a chance to be bold to begin with. And now that his precious pets that weren't whipping boys weren't around, I planned to take full advantage.

He let go, though, and a sudden relief washed over me, one that surprised me. Perhaps it was my inner self trying to protect me. Any more affectionate touches and I'd have start believing that I was a true beloved submissive of my Master's. Perhaps it was good that he broke it off before too long. Before I started to believe it. Taking advantage or not, at the end of the day, I was only me, trying to wrestle a man who only saw me as a toy into caring for me.

His amused smile as he let me off confirmed just that, it was a game to him, all a game.

What the dominant in leather gear did to me that night was all secondary to my feelings of lost and confusion.

What did he really want with me, my Master. What was it that he really wanted.

He was hard against me, I had felt him. And so I knew it to be true. But it could've been the alcohol and the multiple men at the stage that he'd been watching for some time. It didn't necessarily mean that it was me.

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