Master's Favorite Toy Ch. 02

Eventually, our friendship ended. I can't point to one specific thing. She just changed. She got nasty to anyone who she thought was between her and Master. Ask poor Kat about it. Ask Winnie. Ask anyone. The Margaret I knew died. She doesn't have friends now. Only competition. We never had a big fight. Just... little stings, little put-downs, a gradual rise of unkindness between us."

Abigail finished her story in a silent room, as Yvette had paused her game. We all listened respectfully to the older woman as she drew to its sad conclusion.

I added my thoughts to the story.

"So, even you think she's not a bad person. She's just picked up a few bad habits," I said. Abigail squinted at me in disbelief.

"Is that what you took from my story?" She asked, "You are... optimistic to a fault, aren't you?"

"I'm tenacious," I replied.

Abigail shook her head forlornly.

"Well, no, I'm not saying she's a good person with a few bad habits. I'm saying she's a bitch, and she's always been a bitch, she just didn't originally have a reason to show it." Abigail clarified.

"I understand how you feel about her," I said, "Would you forgive her... if she apologized?"

Abigail took a deep breath, releasing an exasperated sigh.

"If Margaret apologizes for her shitty behavior, I'll eat that cucumber after you put it up that guy's ass," She said.

"So that's a yes?" I pressed.

Abigail rolled her eyes.

"Sure," She gave in.

"Can you guys do this somewhere else?" Yvette asked.

Abigail, Kat, and I relocated to the big house for some of Joyce's hot chocolate. It's tasty and warm! Going to hang out with my friends now.

[In the Margins: A realistic drawing of Kat, from the shoulders up, surrounded by elaborately drawn hearts.]

Feb. 19

Yesterday morning, Kat invited me to watch a movie with her. Not as a date. I don't think it was a date. Probably not a date.

The common room of the servant's quarters can be quite high traffic. Often, the entertainment system is heavily contested for use. It was a rare opportunity when Kat and I cuddled up on the couch, popped some popcorn, and settled in for an action movie. Just as the opening credits were rolling, we were interrupted by Yvette.

The teenager exited the bedroom, standing nervously by the couch.

"Cool movie, huh?" She asked.

"I don't really know yet," I replied, as the first scene played. Yvette stood by silently. I tried to focus on the movie, but her obvious presence seemed to be requesting attention. I glanced up at the young girl, who wore an oversized black T-shirt that hung almost to her knees. 'FUJIWARA TOFU SHOP' Was printed amidst Japanese characters.

"Can we help you with anything?" I asked. Kat paused the movie, and we both awaited her answer.

Yvette took a breath.

"I need your help talking to Margaret." She replied. I cocked my head, processing her request. My curiosity was certainly piqued.

"Talk to her about what? And why me?"

"Well, she likes you. Or at least doesn't hate you as much as she hates the rest of us." Yvette crossed her arms. She looked uncomfortable.

I wasn't sure if that was true, but I wasn't about to argue.

"What would I be talking to her about?" I asked. Yvette still hovered awkwardly nearby, and I could sense that she had devoted a considerable amount of effort to even beginning this conversation. The young dark haired girl seemed on the verge of scuttling the conversation and abandoning ship.

"I need someone to drive me into town. Winnie used to do it for me, but she hates driving now that she's pregnant." Yvette explained.

"Why not Whitlow?" I asked, happy I could remember the driver's name. Yvette dropped into the nearby loveseat, tucking her feet beneath herself.

"Whitlow won't take me without Master's orders," She said. The unspoken acknowledgment that this plan would require speaking to Master held no need for verbalization. Given her sexual past with Master and Margaret, I understood why this could be difficult for the young slave.

"Whatcha going into town for?" Kat asked.

"I've saved up some money, and Abigail agreed to help me out with her dancing money, since it's my birthday tomorrow. There's a new game system available..."

I suddenly remembered my first day in the house, when Kat had mentioned Yvette's age. In fact, the girl's youth was the reason Mr. Morgan had purchased her. Kat had told me she turned nineteen this month, so of course she had a birthday coming up.

"Oh! Then we should be doing something," I said, smiling. "Maybe we can all go to the mall with you or something. You need to have a birthday party!" I tried to be happy and encouraging.

"Oh no, it's fine, I think Winnie is planning something here. She's probably got cupcakes or something. I just need a ride." Yvette was bashful, shrugging modestly.

"No way!" I replied. "You're turning nineteen. You need a good party. We should tell Master," I suggested.

Yvette's eyebrows raised in surprise and Kat burst out laughing. I was surprised. It seemed like a valid idea to me, but their reactions had me uncertain.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Master's not really the sentimental type," Kat started to explain. "He doesn't even celebrate his own birthday. For ours, we always do a little something with the girls here in the servant's quarters. Joyce will make your favorite dish and maybe Margaret and Winnie will get you something, but, nah, nothing big, and definitely not from Master. I'm pretty sure he doesn't know what year it is. One time, we all got Christmas cards from him. I think Margaret bought them. Anyway, Emily politely thanked him for the card, and he acted confused and then told her happy birthday. So yeah, he's as clueless as he is handsome."

I couldn't help but cringe and shake my head at Mr. Morgan's oblivious nature. I didn't care if I had a birthday party every year or even at all. But I wasn't nineteen, and I felt like a party or an event or SOMETHING would mean a lot to such a young lady.

"Well, actually, he owes me one," I said. "After I beat his friend in Ping pong, he promised to do something nice for me. I'll talk to him."

"Oh you don't have to do that, I was just going to ask Margaret..." Yvette tried to be polite. "... but a trip to the mall does sound fun," she smiled.

[Drawn in the margin: Yvette, stylized in Japanese 'anime' fashion.]

I felt nervous when I knocked on Master's office door. Joyce had directed me there, saying he had taken lunch for himself and Margaret both in his workspace.

Last time I had come to talk to him, Mr. Morgan had been receiving oral sex from Margaret in his bedroom. Waiting in the hallway, I imagined what kind of debauchery the two might be up to in his office. Possibly in a chair, or on a desk. I shook my head, trying not to imagine too vividly.

"Come in," Master called, and I stepped through the doors to his office. He reclined in his desk chair, the remnants of a turkey club dirtying his desk. Margaret sat next to his sandwich, clutching her head. She was professionally dressed as always, in a pencil skirt and matching gray blouse.

"Marcie!" Master called as soon as I entered. "What can I do for my newest slave?" I approached the desk humbly, my eyes on my feet. I risked a peek at Margaret, noting that she didn't look up when I entered. She sat still, head in her hands.

"Sire, thank you for seeing me. If I may, I'd like to request the gift you offered me," I answered. Mr. Morgan sat up at his desk, cocking his head to one side.

"The gift I offered you?" He asked, confused. "I don't remember offering you a gift."

Margaret joined the conversation, her voice muffled slightly. When she spoke, I noticed the clutch of tissues held to her nose.

"You did, sir. You promised Marcie, quote, 'One thing that you want' if she beat Mr. Jayden in Ping pong." The head slave confirmed.

Mr. Morgan didn't question what his favorite slave said, shrugging agreeably.

"Well, that's fine then, and I remember that you beat him." The handsome man chuckled. "That's definitely worth something. What did you have in mind, Marcie?"

My answer was delayed as Margaret took a quick breath, releasing it slowly. Her shakiness distracted me.

"-... I uh, Yvette's birthday is coming up, sire. I was thinking we could do something nice for her. She's, you know, a gamer, and she's got this-..."

I was distracted again by Margaret, who I noticed held tissues to her face. She checked the blossom of scarlet blood they contained, replacing them quickly.

"...There's a new game system. She wanted to go to town to pick it up, but I thought it might be fun if we all went. Like, to a mall or something. To celebrate - Ma'am, are you okay?" I addressed Margaret in my usual direct way.

"She's fine," Master answered, "And so is your idea. I'll have Margaret put something together for tomorrow. Whitlow can drive. You're dismissed," He said. I felt rushed out of the room as he waved me off. While leaving, I glanced back. Master had his attention on Margaret, smiling and laughing about her unfortunate state. I slipped the door closed as I exited.

[Drawn in the margin: A mirror laying face up. On top of the mirror, lines of powder and a large denomination bill]

And so, tomorrow we're all going to the mall. Margaret came through the servants quarters a couple of hours after I spoke with Master. She ordered everyone to be at the big house, ready for departure at 8:00AM sharp. Success!

Before I started writing today's journal entry, I described my talk with Master to my roommates. The three of us lounged around in our pajamas. Kat sat on my bunk next to me, fidgeting with a spinner. Abigail leaned to one side, peering around Yvette's dangling legs.

"...She had a bad nose bleed, and Master seemed to think it was funny," I concluded. Yvette shrugged, Kat's wide eyes roved the room as if trying to find something else to talk about, and Abigail simply sighed.

"Maybe she hit her nose, and he thought it was funny?" Yvette offered innocently.

"I'd like to think that," I replied. I was hopeful that one of the more mature women would confirm my theory. Abigail looked up at me, her face full of pity, or maybe disgust.

"Well, it's no secret that Master uses," the older slave said, "It wouldn't be a stretch to assume he's roped Margaret into it too."

Yvette's eyes widened, and she leaned forward over the edge of the bed, hanging her head down into Abigail's view.

"What, like drugs?" The she asked.

"Yes, dear." Abigail confirmed.

Kat gave the spinner a twirl and added the fire hose of her thoughts to the teacup of our conversation.

"I bet she does, too. Sometimes she's really nice and not, like, losing her shit at all, but then sometimes she has mood swings and she gets irritable. Sometimes she gets random nosebleeds too. I bet they both take it and then they have sex. I think one time he had sex with me while he was on it. It was a lot of fun. He came so hard I thought he died. Have you guys ever tried it?"

Abigail laid down on her bunk.

"Once," She said, "My second master was a big time user. He'd try anything. That's how he died, actually," She concluded.

"So, you think Margaret's on some stuff?" I asked. Abigail produced her paperback and ruffled through the pages, removing her bookmark.

"It's possible," She said, "And if she is, it's not your problem."

I frowned.

Her second master died from it, and she's saying it's not my problem if Margaret is using? Of course it's my problem. I'm worried about my friend.

I need to clear my head. Tomorrow will be fun, and I want to be in a good mood for Yvette! She deserves a nice birthday.

Feb. 20

We met just inside the revolving doors. Nine beautiful women (Eight pleasure slaves + Kate) arranged loosely around a map of the mall, laughing, talking, enjoying being out. Margaret stood at the center of the small group, her personal phone in her hand. In her classy, professional style of dress, she looked like a school teacher leading a group of high schoolers on a fieldtrip.

"Ladies, quiet. Listen up." She called. The slaves did as asked, focusing on Margaret. "There's a very specific time for lunch. If you're not at the food court by 12:30, you will pay for your own lunch. Do you think we can do that?"

I wrinkled my nose in offense at her condescending question. We're all grown adult women here, does she think we can't keep track of time?

"Oooh, they have a Cinna Factory," Kat said out loud. She had her eyes on the mall map, completely ignoring Margaret. The favorite slave snapped her fingers twice.

"Kat. Katherine. Did you hear me?"

Okay, well, most of us are grown adult women.

"We're leaving at four." Margaret continued, "Four PM. Four O'clock, Katherine. Marcie, can you make sure she's here on time?" Margaret asked. I laughed, wrapping an arm around my flighty friend.

"Won't let her out of my sight," I promised.

We had a lot of fun. Right after Margaret's meeting, she dispensed a small allowance to everyone, courtesy of Master. It was a thoughtful gesture. I think Mr. Morgan does care about his little harem, in his own strange way. I feel lucky to belong to him, especially when I consider the range of possible masters I could've ended up with.

I spent all day with Kat. She was so cute in her pink tank top and shorts, matched with rainbow tennis shoes. Kat's style definitely reflects her personality.

But she is a firecracker, which can be difficult. I wasn't mad when we missed lunch because she wanted to stand in line for bungee jumping, or when she bought four cinnamon rolls to give to her friends and I ended up carrying them around.

I did get a little irritated at 3:56, when we were on the far end of the mall from our meeting point, searching through clearance bins for a pair of shoes she had seen earlier.

"If we leave now, we're going to have to run," I commented, switching my eyes between my companion and a store clock.

"I think they're on this side," Kat replied, as a bundle of tennis shoes avalanched on top of her hands.

"I'm gonna leave you," I threatened.

With a grunt of dissatisfaction, Kat surrendered her prize to the pile. We promptly power walked out of the store, setting course for our four O'clock meeting point. Weaving through throngs of people, we made our way past a game store. I spotted a familiar face standing amidst the posters and action figures.

"Yvette!" I called, "We're going to be late!" She looked up and spotted me. Her face was twisted in distress, and she shook her head when I called out. Kat and I changed course, dodging around a trolley crammed with children.

"What's wrong?" I asked, stopping beside Yvette.

"He won't let me have my game system," Yvette cried, pointing to the clerk at the counter. A middle aged man with too much neck hair and not enough head hair, he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"It's a display unit," He replied, "It's not for sale. I've explained this."

"But you said you'd have one in stock when I came back! I was here before lunch!" Yvette raised her voice at the man, growing hysteric.

"Well, we don't. Sorry." he replied.

The game system in question was, admittedly, clearly for display.

"Are you sure you can't let her have it? She's got the money..." I turned to Yvette, "You've got the money, right?" She withdrew a clump of bills from her pocket, nodding and showing off the little wad of cash. I smiled at the man, trying to be as genial as possible. My eyes flicked to a clock on the wall behind him, which read 4:01.

"Not happening," The clerk replied, with sour eyes and a meaningful grimace. "Get your master to bring you back another day. I don't have time to deal with slaves."

Yvette was crushed. The whole purpose for coming today had been to acquire this stupid square piece of plastic, and now she couldn't. She looked like she might cry.

"Kat," I pulled the easily distracted girl away from a magazine rack. "Can you go tell Margaret what's going on? I'm gonna try to talk him out of this thing," I whispered.

"Mmm, mm-hmm. Yup," She replied, taking off at a quick pace through the mall. I returned a friendly glance to the man.

"So, what can we do to change your mind?" I asked, smiling. He sighed with exasperation.

A few more minutes of desperate pleading, haggling, and pitiful, weepy looks from Yvette got us nowhere. The man was resolute. He would not sell us the unit. I had begun to consider what sexual favors I could offer when I caught sight of Margaret.

Professional, powerful, and just as intimidating as when I first met her, the blonde looked seriously irate. I froze for a second when I saw her, much like a squirrel deciding which way she should scurry to avoid an oncoming bus. I prepared for a harsh scolding, but that was not the case. Instead, Margaret walked straight past me and up to the counter.

"What now?" The clerk asked with exaggerated impatience.

"Not you," Margaret waved her hand dismissively, "I'm not talking to you. Manager. Now." She demanded.

The man simply pointed to his nametag, which read 'Assistant Manager'.

Margaret rolled her eyes.

"Fine. What's the issue with letting the young lady have the game?" Margaret asked, fixing her stern glare on the man.

"I'm not explaining again. What are you, her mom?" He shot back.

Margaret's eyes narrowed, locking the clerk in her frigid stare.

"How DARE you?" She shouted. Around the store, several heads turned. "This young woman is a paying customer! She was promised a product! Your incompetence is unbelievable. I demand to speak to a REAL manager, not an assistant," Margaret commanded.

Yvette and I made eye contact, shocked at Margaret's attitude. The gold necklace adorned beauty didn't relent, even as another store worker joined the conversation, possibly with the intent of extinguishing the current dumpster fire.

"Do you have ANY idea whose slave that is?" Margaret demanded, pointing a finger at Yvette. The poor girl backed up a step, holding her hands up as if to signify that she no longer wanted any part of this.

The first clerk rolled his eyes, but the newer member of the conversation seemed more interested.

"Whose?" He asked.

"Yvette is one of Mr. Gerrard Morgan's most prized slaves," Margaret asserted smugly, "The richest man on Earth?" She asked, as if the guy wouldn't know who that was. I noticed a nearby teen had begun to film with a smartphone.

"Uh, Margaret..." I tried to step in, but the blonde had gained too much momentum.

"Sure she is," The original clerk was saying, "And I'm a movie star. Get out of here before we call security." he waved his hand at the three of us disrespectfully.

Margaret drew in a breath, ready to tear the man a new asshole, but was defused by the second clerk.

"Just give her one of the layaways. We got new units coming in soon anyway," The man suggested.

"...Ugh, fine..." his friend relented with a scoff, shuffling off to the back of the store. The second clerk offered a weak smile, and Margaret shot one back, twice as fake and twice as snarky.

"Thank you," She said.

The girl who had been filming kept her phone on Margaret, laughing silently (But not that silently) to her friends.

"Karen alert," One of the young people said. Margaret ignored them.

When the neckbearded man waddled out and sat the unit on the counter, Margaret didn't give Yvette a chance to pay. Instead, Margaret pulled her own wallet from her pocket book, dropping a black card on the counter between herself and the two clerks. I swear there was a metallic clank as the heavy rectangle hit the linoleum counter. It didn't bounce.

Where the receipt read 'MORGAN, GERRARD S.', Margaret signed an X. The clerks were stunned into silence, checking and double checking the name on the receipt. Yvette had to be reminded to grab her new game system, toting it without a bag as we exited the store.