Devero follows his Master, walking tall and upright and hiding his fear while they're in the halls. For all intents and purposes, they could be on any regular errand, Lieutenant Bolut and his big, quiet shadow.
The facade slips in the garden, and by the time they're received by the mute slave, he inhales sharply at the sight of that scar. Now his tension is obvious, palpable, such that he actually jumps when Samir grabs his hair.
His lips part, exhaling a shaky breath as his dark eyes bore into Samir's. He nods, just slightly, against the grip, and wraps his arms around himself as Master releases him.
"Master--" he calls, his voice low as Samir moves away. He opens his mouth, so many thoughts tangling together on his tongue that all he can say, finally, is, "Thank you."
Thank you for the advice, the coaching. For giving him a fighting chance with Heber. For having faith that he'll make it through. Thank you for taking him in hand when he first arrived here. Thank you for seeing him as a person, not just a big, interactive sex toy. Thank you for giving him a chance to serve, for being patient while he remembered how to be something other than a consort.
Thank you for the pleasure and honor of being his slave.
He wishes he had the eloquence and the time to say it all-- just, you know, in case. In case he doesn't make it out of here, in case Lord Heber's capriciousness proves final. In case-- in case--
There's no time, and his mind shies away from the very real possibility that he could die here. 'Thank you' will have to suffice.
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Date: 2022-07-26 09:39 pm (UTC)From:The facade slips in the garden, and by the time they're received by the mute slave, he inhales sharply at the sight of that scar. Now his tension is obvious, palpable, such that he actually jumps when Samir grabs his hair.
His lips part, exhaling a shaky breath as his dark eyes bore into Samir's. He nods, just slightly, against the grip, and wraps his arms around himself as Master releases him.
"Master--" he calls, his voice low as Samir moves away. He opens his mouth, so many thoughts tangling together on his tongue that all he can say, finally, is, "Thank you."
Thank you for the advice, the coaching. For giving him a fighting chance with Heber. For having faith that he'll make it through. Thank you for taking him in hand when he first arrived here. Thank you for seeing him as a person, not just a big, interactive sex toy. Thank you for giving him a chance to serve, for being patient while he remembered how to be something other than a consort.
Thank you for the pleasure and honor of being his slave.
He wishes he had the eloquence and the time to say it all-- just, you know, in case. In case he doesn't make it out of here, in case Lord Heber's capriciousness proves final. In case-- in case--
There's no time, and his mind shies away from the very real possibility that he could die here. 'Thank you' will have to suffice.