Collar Me Ch. 08

Chapter 8: Freedom

I woke to the sound of a quiet "click." The collar was loose on my throat; it had opened by itself. The room was still shadowy dark, but I assumed the click meant it was morning and I was free. I reached up and took the collar off. I sat up, rubbed my neck and looked around. My master was lying on the bed curled up on his right side snoring quietly. But no, that wasn't true—he was no longer my master. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, stood up and stretched. I was sore all over, but deliciously so. More, I felt victorious.

I was also sure my bladder was about to burst. Where was a bathroom? Clothes? I staggered toward the door, swung it open and stumbled out into the main room. It was empty, but still smelled faintly of alcohol, perfume, and sex. I guessed my little party wasn't the only fun being had last night. There were still glasses strewn about. I saw one tipped over on the floor in the middle of a small puddle; it had hot pink lipstick smeared on the edge and I wondered about its story. I wondered if anyone else had been sold. I stared around looking for some sign of where the restrooms might be. I didn't see any and called out "Hello?"

In response, a man slouched out from behind the curtain; I hastily tried to cover my nakedness with my arms—a move that always seems to backfire, it just draws attention to what you're not quite hiding. He wore faded jeans and a torn green T-shirt and didn't seem all that interested. Still, I kept my breasts covered as I held my collar bones with crossed arms.

His eyes were a little droopy, like he'd been up all night—I guessed even the maintenance crew was busy when the show was in full flight. In a slightly ragged voice, he said:

"Huh, I'm surprised you're up so soon, you had a busy night. Was it all you expected?"

My eyes snapped into focus and I looked at him carefully. Oh shit. I knew this guy—he was the auctioneer. But this wasn't the man who drove me to my knees with just a glare. This guy was just, he was just...a guy.

He laughed, brokenly, and said, "Acting lessons and practice pay off. At night it's my job to put on a show; for them, and for you. Show time is over. There's a shower in back, and I put your clothes there for you already."

Hot water, lots and lots of hot water, streaming though my hair and over my skin; is there anything better on Earth? Soreness washed away with the soap's lather. But the tingly knowledge of what I had done and of all I'd experienced had been tattooed into me.

I got out of the shower and grabbed a towel. It had been hanging on a warming rack and was just shy of painfully hot on my breasts, but deliciously fluffy. So perfect, I was tempted to stuff it in my tote bag, but stealing from a place with that many whips seemed a bad idea.

I dressed in the clothes I'd arrived in—tawny slacks, aqua silk blouse, low-heeled nude pumps—and walked back out front. He was sitting at a table with two mugs steaming happily. Coffee. I always felt a little cheated by coffee, as much as I adore it. The most heavenly aroma hides the fact that it's really burnt beans. I sat and took a sip—dark roast with notes of bitter chocolate and wine. It was perfect.

I looked at the man across from me. Was this tired and relaxed guy really the black-clad man that had sold me into slavery last night?

"Was it all I expected? No, yes, more... maybe. It terrified me and thrilled me. I don't know. I think it will take a while to soak it all in and figure it out."

"Will I see you back here again?"

"I don't know." I said.

"I wasn't joking last night when I said it seemed a shame to waste you on some stranger—I'd like to see you again."

"You already saw all of me."

"That's not what I mean and you know it. You have fire, strength, courage, and depths I'd like to get to know—and OK, I wouldn't mind getting to know those depths too, but that's not what I meant." He had read my arched eyebrow the way it was intended.

"Maybe; I know where to reach you. But I've got to go."

"Wait, before you leave, I have your share of the sale price—it's a lot of money."

I said, "I don't want it. This was about fantasy, not finances. And taking it would make me a whore, wouldn't it?" I thought a second and then said "Send it to my old school. Maybe they can use it for some stupid cause or another."

With that, I got up and walked out.