Master's Favorite Toy Ch. 02

Until Master came in.

About 3PM he stumbled in the front door. Master's stubble was longer and more unkempt than normal, forming the beginnings of a beard. His face was sunburnt, a cherry red, and his eyes were unfocused. He wore shorts, a pair of flip flops, and a tank top. Behind him, Whitlow, the driver, followed with an armful of luggage.

Mr. Morgan staggered drunkenly through the front door and saw us hanging out around the kitchen table. Everyone fell silent as he stood, eyeing us.

"Fuck women," He said. No one replied. I was laughing at some joke Winnie had told, but my mirth died in a hurry. Uncomfortable silence covered the room.

"Fucking... women suck," I looked at Kat, who sat next to me, and I tried to discern her reaction. She stared at him with unwavering attention, her jaw set. She was nervous too.

"Do you, Margaret, do you... you are so hot," Master pointed to his favorite slave, "Would you cheat on me, if you were my girlfriend?" He asked.

Margaret stood by one wall alone, her phone in her hands. She quietly slid the device into her back pocket. When he spoke to her, she shook her head slightly.

"No sir," She replied. Margaret was steady, hiding any signs of surprise, but I could tell she was worried too. Master was clearly very drunk.

How the Master behaved when he was drunk was a question I did not have the answer to.

"I need to fuck you," He said. "I need to fuck a lot of you." He pointed around the room, listing a few names.

"Margaret, um, the new girl. Marty." He pointed at me. I nodded. I wasn't about to correct him.

"The gay girl," He pointed at Shauna. "Are you the gay girl?" He asked. Shauna was too frightened to contradict him, but Kat jumped in to cover for her.

"I'm pansexual, sire," Kat offered, calling his attention with a raised hand.

"Yes, you. Upstairs. And Winnie," He turned to Winnie with a smile, but hesitated, his face falling. "Wait, no, you're pregnant. Abigail," Master beckoned her to follow, and set off for his bedroom in a hurry.

All of those he named followed him, myself included. We left our sandwiches on the plates. As I passed by Winnie, I made eye contact with her and winced, frowning at her apologetically. Winnie shrugged and shook her head, as if admonishing me not to worry about her hurt feelings.

I soon learned the answer was horny. Master was horny when he was drunk.

I was the last one through the door to the bedroom. By the time I got there, Margaret was on the bed, bent to her hands and knees. Master kneeled behind her, ripping her pants down her thighs. She wore shorts with yoga pants underneath, and rather than deal with removing both completely from her legs, he exposed her and left the wadded clothing around her knees. With savage enthusiasm, he crawled on top of her, pushing his penis into her from behind. She let out a soft squeak as his bodyweight pressed her into the bed, crushing her gently as he mounted her. Margaret looked up at the three of us for a second, her eyebrows raised in surprise at his abruptness. I thought that between all of his pleasure slaves, she would be the most accustomed to his advances, but apparently his current level of enthusiasm was unusual even for her.

Mr. Morgan didn't take it slow. Once he was inside her, he began to pump her quickly, wrapping both his arms around her stomach and fucking her while he held her in place. He squeezed tightly around her middle, and Margaret's face, I think involuntarily, shifted into an 'O' face. Their copulation was... startling to watch. It didn't feel like two people making love. Instead, it reminded me of a savage nature documentary. Master was mating with Margaret.

And without any orders, Kat, Abigail and I were mere spectators of the intriguing event. I nudged Kat gently, and motioned with my head, asking if we should join. She shrugged, shaking her head. We would wait until Master commanded us.

Less than two minutes later, Master released a groan, slowing the pace of his thrusts while increasing the depth. Margaret's knuckles went white as she gripped the bed sheets, her eyes scrunching up. Mr. Morgan breathed hard, coming to a stop and dropping his body weight on her. Moments passed in silence as we all watched, anticipating quietly.

Nobody dared move as we waited for what would come next. Master's breathing became deep and slow. He was falling asleep. Poor Margaret still lay beneath him, paralyzed by his weight.

"What do we do?" I whispered to Kat. Her eyes were wide. She was just as bewildered as I was.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Abigail whispered harshly, walking to the bed. "We're not leaving her there." With one hand under his chest and one under his thighs, the athletic woman heaved Mr. Morgan, and with a great strain she flipped him off of Margaret. The crushed blonde took a gasp of air as the deadweight of her unconscious master was lifted from her back.

Abigail untucked the blankets from the edge of the bed, tossing them over the slumbering man while Kat and I helped Margaret stand. Cum dribbled from her, but she ignored it, pulling her pants up.

Margaret took a few short hops, tugging the tight shorts up over her perfect ass. She smirked with confidence.

"Sorry I didn't leave you anything, girls. You know how Master is when it comes to me." She gave a cocky wink, and my mouth fell open with surprise at her gall. Abigail shouldered past us, heading for the exit. With her back to Margaret, she rolled her eyes and mouthed:

'Kill me.'

I giggled, and Margaret glared at me. I decided it would be better if the head slave didn't think I was making fun of her.

"He was so enthusiastic, ma'am. I wish I could have traded places with you," I whispered, only half lying. It did look like rough, dominating fun. But much like pornography, I wasn't sure it would be as fun to experience as it was to watch. Kat followed Abigail out of the room as Margaret took my hand, smiling.

"I can talk to him for you," She replied, "After all, he does listen to me. If you'd like some attention, just say the word." Her bragging was not lost on me, so I continued to humor her.

Besides, Mr. Morgan hadn't actually had sex with me yet, and his sexual attention was certainly something I was looking forward to. Perhaps not quite in the manner Margaret had just experienced, but still.

"Oh, thank you ma'am," I replied, trying to mask my sarcasm, "But I don't think he'll ever be as interested in me as he is in you." I stroked her ego a bit. I laughed internally, trying not to show her how silly I thought she was.

Margaret was beaming now. She smiled with fake modesty.

"Well, maybe not. Did I show you these?" She turned around and pulled up her blonde ponytail, flashing the back of her neck. Several bruises were peppered around her nape, which it took me a second to recognize were bite marks.

"Master likes to mark his territory," She was speaking plainly now, her excitement carrying her whisper into a louder voice.

I was surprised to hear her enthusiasm. The more she spoke about spending time with Master, the more I was reminded of my first time meeting him. Standing in his study, hearing him talk about his slaves, Mr. Morgan had the same excitement and enthusiasm about his collection that Margaret had when she spoke about copulating with him. They really were a perfect match for each other. Or at least, they would have been if their mutual obsession didn't leave Margaret so desperately jealous of his large harem.

And yet, where Master was excited about the 'objects' in his collection, Margaret was excited about Mr. Morgan more personally. I sensed a disconnect.

I don't know why she would share her excitement with me. Maybe she felt comfortable around me. Maybe she had no one else to talk to. Or maybe she trusted me enough not to make fun of her, which the other girls probably would, and I realized with embarrassment, I had been.

My fake smile dropped, and I chastised myself. If I'm really going to get through to her and be her friend, I would need to take seriously the things that interest her. This was one of them.

"Did I tell you about the ball? How Master spoke about you?" I asked. Margaret's eyes lit up with interest.

"No, but we should talk somewhere else - my room maybe? Master musn't be woken,"

We grabbed our sandwiches on our way through the kitchen.

"That was quick," Winnie commented as we scooped up our plates. She sat at the table, having nibbled two small bites from her lunch. I thought pregnant women were supposed to eat a lot? Or maybe she had morning sickness? I don't know.

"Margaret's fault," I said with a smile, still trying to compliment the head slave. In hindsight, the last comment was laying it on a little too thick, so I mentally throttled down the ass-kissing.

Winnie nodded, one eyebrow raised.

"And now you're leaving?" She asked.

"Yeah, we're gonna hang out in her room." I said. Winnie looked at me with surprise first, but her face faded into joy as she understood. She knew I was trying to be friends with Margaret.

"Good to hear," She replied, a warm, happy grin on her face.

I was surprised to find Margaret had waited on me. She stood by the kitchen door, plate in one hand, tapping away on her cellphone with the other. We walked together back to the servant's quarters, chatting the whole way. I told her about Mr. McEachern offering a huge check, along with another slave, in trade for her, and how Master had rejected him. Margaret simply beamed by the time we sat down on her bed.

We talked for so long! About things that weren't even important, like friends do. At first it was a lot of Master. Master likes this, Master's favorite things are these, blah blah blah. But eventually, we started talking about more casual stuff.

"What's your biggest fear?" Margaret asked me. I lay face down on her bed, feet kicking in the air, a pillow hugged to my chest as I looked up at her.

"Metaphysically, or just, like, phobias?" I responded. Margaret looked at me over the top of her phone. She reclined against her headboard, a cream colored blanket pulled over her legs. The favorite slave stared at me blankly as she answered.

"I don't know the difference," She said.

"Okay, well, um, my biggest phobia is probably being heights, and my biggest meta-type fear is probably being alone, totally abandoned," I tried to explain it in the best way I could.

I rolled to one side, resting my head on my hand.

"What about you?" I shot back.

Margaret thought for a moment.

"Snakes," She replied. I desperately wanted to probe for a deeper fear, but I surmised that if she had wanted to share a deeper fear, she would have. She scrolled her phone for another second, before asking another question.

"What's one thing most people don't know about you?" She asked, "Ooh, you're good at Ping pong, right?" She guessed happily.

I thought for a second before replying.

"I don't keep that a secret. I'll tell you a secret about me if you promise to tell one about you," I said. Margaret nodded dumbly, a little more solemn than I had expected. The gorgeous blonde sat forward on the bed, putting her phone to sleep and setting it down.

In my mind, I struggled to think of a secret.

I didn't want to tell her I had slept with Kat. I worried she might take that poorly, or at least I didn't know how she'd respond. I softened the secret, grinding the edge off the truth.

"I have a crush on Kat," I said, beaming. If Margaret and I were going to be friends, we had to have some mutual trust.

I had expected a lot of different responses, but confusion wasn't one of them. She blinked, her mind stalling like it had encountered a bootup error.

"You're bisexual?" She asked.

"Well... I don't want to put a category on it..." I replied, "I just know I kind of... like women now. It's been a discovery that I've made since coming here." I retreated a bit, sitting on my legs, a tad unnerved by Margaret's weird, non-automatic response.

"Okay," She finally said, eyebrows crinkled with worry.

"Is that okay?" I asked, a bit annoyed. I had just shared something important with her, and her response was highly off putting.

"With Kat?" She asked. "You're gay with Kat?"

"Uh, it's just a crush for now," I replied. "Nothing official."

That's a super weird reaction, right? Most people wouldn't respond like that. There'd be 'Oh I'm so happy for you,' or 'You should totally go for it.'

Margaret nodded, her eyes searching around the room, lost.

I remembered Kat's story. About how the chatty young slave had earned Master's attention just by being sexually active with women. Margaret's jealousy had been sparked - and she had come out as bisexual days later. Perhaps the favorite slave was beginning to worry that I'd steal Mr. Morgan's attention next. Keeping this in mind, I calmed myself. She's just a scared little girl, like Winnie said. She's not a bad person.

"You have to tell me a secret now too," I said, trying to add friendly inflection to my voice.

"Oh. Uh, I'm bisexual too," Margaret replied. I remembered Kat telling me about Margaret's misplaced coming out. Kat had genuinely doubted Margaret's supposed sexual preferences. But while the earnestness of her confessed sexuality wasn't mine to judge, the secrecy of it sure was.

"I thought everyone knew that!" I teased, flashing a playful smile.

Margaret covered her face.

"Um, yeah, I guess so. I don't have any good secrets," She replied.

"Well, you can think about it and come back to me," I offered with a smile.

"Okay," Margaret accepted my offer. She lifted her phone, clicking the screen on and reading.

"If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?" She asked.

"Margaret, are you reading these questions on a website?" I laughed, trying to lean around her hand and catch a glimpse of the phone's screen.

Margaret hid her phone, tucking it close to her chest.

"I don't talk with friends a lot!" She exclaimed, embarrassed. Her face softened, realizing what she had said. "And you can call me Maggy," She added.

AAAHHHHH!!!

I was stunned. Success! Margaret, cough, Maggy, trusted me enough to use Master's nickname.

"...Okay, Maggy. If I could change one thing about myself..."

We talked for half an hour more before she received a text message. Very urgently, she stood from her bed.

"Master needs me," She explained.

"Okay, no worries," I replied, "Thanks for hanging out."

She walked to the door, quickly pulling a sweatshirt over her casual clothes.

"I'll see you later," She said. And she was gone.

I wish I had a cellphone. Handy for escaping from any situation.

Downstairs, I found Kat, Abigail and Yvette in the common room. Yvette was playing a shooting game while Abigail and Kat watched. Kat was seated crossways on a loveseat, and she quickly made room for me, patting the cushion beside herself.

"So?" Kat asked, inquisitive eyes locked on me.

"So what?" I asked.

"Are you best friends with Margaret now?" She expanded her question.

I couldn't resist telling them for even one second.

"She called me her friend!" I said, "And told me to call her Maggy."

Kat squealed happily, hugging me from the side and crushing my arms to my torso. Abigail's response was less supportive.

"Why?" She asked, narrowing her eyes at me. She sat beside Yvette on the couch, her muscular legs crossed and head resting in her hand.

"Well, I've been making a real effort to be kind and understanding, so she sees th-..."

"No, I mean, why make an effort to be kind and understanding? The minute she sees you as a threat, you're on her shit list." Abigail explained.

"I... could see where you're coming from." I tried to think of an answer.

I remembered when Margaret went off on me in the living room. I was drunk and half naked, looking for my shirt, threatening no one. But Master was happy with me, and not happy with Margaret. That's all it took. She definitely had a propensity for unpredictability.

"But I think maybe she's not so bad. Maybe she just needs a friend." I tried to make Abigail understand. She shook her head, returning her attention to Yvette's game.

"You're so sweet and caring," Kat said, laying her head on my arm. My heartbeat picked up a bit. It felt nice to have her so close.

"And gullible," Abigail added. "Some people there's no fixing."

We watched Yvette's game for a few minutes. I sat in silence, considering Abigail's words. Her attitude frightened me a bit. 'Some people there's no fixing'? I'm not trying to fix her. I'm trying to help her see that she can have friends.

Yvette's character died, and she swore.

"Damn it!" The young woman cried.

"Why shouldn't she be befriended?" I asked.

"She assassinated the president. That's why we're trying to kill her," Yvette explained.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I was talking to Abigail." I said.

"Oh."

Yvette looked disappointed, and returned to her game.

After a few more seconds of electronic gunfire and explosions, Abigail spoke.

"I was Master's first."

"I think I remember you saying that," I answered, "That he bought you a long time ago."

"I mean his first sexual partner," She replied.

Abigail's confession aroused my interest. I tilted my head in surprise.

"Oh, wow," I replied.

Abigail hugged a pillow, reclining on the couch and continuing her story.

"I belonged to four masters before him. I got around some, and while I was still a higher-end slave, I was used goods. Nowhere near as expensive as someone like Margaret, or even you, Marcie. But Mr. Morgan didn't have the funds back then that he does now. Back when his parents were still alive.

The night he brought me home was the most excited I've ever seen him, even to this day. I remember when he first got inside me, he closed his eyes and sat still for like thirty seconds, just feeling me. It was pretty intense for both of us. I'd had lots of sex, but it was so sweet... I think in the first week, he probably put every square inch of me in his mouth."

Her eyes were glued to the ceiling as she spoke, but she smiled at the memory. Her smile slowly faded and she continued her story.

"Master bought another pleasure slave before his parents passed. She's uh, not here anymore. Anyway, When his parents died, Mr. Morgan gained a serious amount of capital, and with the inheritance of several companies, a serious amount of influence. That's when he bought Margaret.

He'd just really gotten into slave trading at the time. He followed blogs, read magazines, went to expos... it was an obsession. I was a fine starter for his collection, but he quickly set his sights on having the number one collection of pleasure slaves in the world.

His quest for Margaret almost broke him. There were a number of other clients interested in her. She's got accolades no other slave has ever had, or has currently. Needless to say, the competition, bidding, and manipulation surrounding her was intense. It was actually kind of a big deal in the slave collecting world when he ended up with her. He was a nobody in that community at the time... There's a magazine with an article about the whole thing somewhere in his office.

Anyway, he got her.

And she was sweet. A nice young woman. I taught her everything I knew about being a pleasure slave. We got along pretty well at first. I might even have called us friends."

The mature slave shifted uncomfortably on the couch. I fought the urge to prompt her for more of the story. She continued despite her apparent discomfort.

"Then he started his collection in earnest, bringing in more top-notch slaves. Margaret started feeling threatened. At first, she would tell me her thoughts. About how much she didn't trust the other women. How she thought they were after her stupid necklace. And I'll be honest, Master played on that. He'd tell her to shape up, or she'd lose her spot. And for her, being number one was an obsession.