Master's Favorite Toy Ch. 03

"Actually Marcie, if you're not too tired, and I totally understand if you are, I've thought of a secret I can share with you," She grinned brightly at me, a rare (but increasingly common) sight.

"A secret?" I asked, confused.

I didn't remember my agreement with Margaret from our last talk. I had confessed to her that I had a crush on Kat, and she had confessed to me that she was bisexual. When I told her that her sexuality was not exactly hidden, we had agreed Margaret still owed me a secret. This was the secret she referred to now.

"Okay," I replied, eager. "I'll meet you upstairs once I'm dressed."

Margaret climbed from Yvette's bed, said goodnight to all the girls, and left.

"You almost got shivved," Abigail warned me as soon as Margaret was gone.

"What?" I asked, climbing out of bed. I searched through the draws beneath my bunk, hunting for suitably clean underwear and night clothes.

"...Yeah, it's probably best if you don't tell Margaret that Master said he loves you, or he thinks you're special, you know, stuff like that," Kat said.

"Oh. She'd get jealous," I replied. Abigail corrected me.

"Normal people get jealous. Margaret isn't so restrained," She explained. I pulled on pants and a T-shirt, one of Kat's (She didn't complain), and headed for the door.

"I'll try not to let it slip then. I don't want to get shivved," I said with a laugh.

[Drawn in the margin: A very sad looking Margaret, with a background of a beautiful, thorny rose.]

When I came to Margaret's room, I knocked gently. She called to me, and I found her seated on her bed, legs crossed, holding a box. The cream colored bed coverings were wadded up to one side, showing that Margaret had pulled the box from beneath her bed. The small wooden box was more like a chest really, with a little latch on the front. I sat beside her on the bed, crossing my legs.

"I'm kind of nervous," I said, smiling. "You've got a whole treasure chest and everything. My secret feels silly next to this." Margaret shook her head.

"No, mine's stupid too. It's kind of like yours." She said. I raised an eyebrow.

"Oh? You have a crush on somebody?" I asked. She nodded, and suddenly I was very interested. She continued to explain.

"I've never told anyone... literally no one about this. I know the other girls would make fun of me, but I've felt like I wanted to tell somebody for so long," She explained, working the latch on the box. With a click the little container opened, and she began to extract its contents. The first thing she handed me was a photo, a selfie taken at a formal event, quite similar to the one I had attended with Master. The polaroid depicted Margaret, wearing a gorgeous black dress and an expensive pearl string. In the selfie, Master was kissing her cheek, and she had a wide, cheesy grin.

"You have a crush on... Master?" I said, confused.

"Yes," She confirmed, nervous. Margaret had always been so confident that her behavior bordered on arrogance, so in control it bordered on manic. But now she was nervous, unsure... the beautiful blonde was vulnerable. She genuinely was sharing a secret with me.

My first reaction was that everyone who had ever met Margaret knew she had feelings for Master. But as she pulled more photos out (The two of them in sweaters by a fire, swimsuits by a pool, holding up tennis rackets and giving a thumbs up), I realized that her feelings for Master were not what I had assumed. She did not love him as a Master. She loved him as a man.

"I know you're always writing in your journal," She said, extracting a small notebook from the box, "So I thought, maybe, I don't know, if you're some kind of writer, maybe you could tell me what you think of these," I accepted the notebook hesitantly, a pit forming in my stomach. What was I feeling? Embarrassment? Sadness?

I flipped through the notebook, landing on a full page. Margaret's handwriting was perfect calligraphy, gorgeous and easy to read. As for the content of her writing, well, it was... passionate. Page after page of the notebook was filled with love letters, poems, short journal entries, all devoted to Mr. Morgan.

"Maggy..." I said. Trying to mask my cringe.

"I've spent a lot of time thinking of ways to tell him. It's just, you know, he's so busy... Do you think he feels the same way?" Margaret asked. I turned the page, finding a poem that rhymed 'Master' with 'My heart beats faster', and was able to successfully label the feeling in my stomach.

Pity.

"Do I think that Mr. Morgan feels the same way about you as you feel about him?" I wanted to clarify before I answered. My eyes continued to scan the sappy love poetry.

"I feel silly saying it out loud," She confirmed, "But do you think there's a chance?"

I was in silent shock. Margaret had taken 'Oblivious' to a whole new level. Did I think Master cared about her...?

I remembered how heartbroken Margaret was when he'd taken up with Madam Dubois. I remembered him yelling at her, kicking the poor slave out of his room, really making Margaret feel like trash. I remembered Abigail's story about Margaret growing ever more cold and cruel with every slave Master purchased, and the less attention he gave to Margaret. I remembered him calling her names, degrading her, and pushing her to the floor when she was trying to protect Winnie. Did I think Master cared about her, romantically? Of course not.

"Oh sweetie, I..." I struggled with what I wanted to say, "I don't... know..." Margaret looked at me with intensity, her big eyes sad but hopeful. I tried to phrase it delicately.

"I think Master does care about you, in a way, but not romantically." I winced. Margaret frowned, looking downcast.

"I worried you'd say that," She replied, "But I'm glad you told me the truth. Do you think I could change his mind?"

My fight or flight triggered as Margaret tried to nail me down on this topic. I winced, scooting back a bit on the bed. Any answers I had for her would not be pleasant. I struggled to find an appropriately gentle way to let her down.

"Margaret, I think this is kind of silly," I said, neither appropriately nor gently.

"Kind of silly?" A bit of her old frosty edge crept back into her voice. I was reminded of a side of Margaret I hadn't seen recently. I commenced backpedaling.

"No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. Listen, I think, uh, this is really sweet. And it shows a lot of... emotion. I really believe you do care about him. But Margaret, the way he treats you is a pretty obvious sign." Margaret frowned at me. I met her eyes, then looked away, studying the wall. When I looked back, she was still frowning at me.

"He's under a lot of stress," Margaret said, taking the notebook from my hands. I felt like I'd blown my chance, like I had pushed her away. I didn't interrupt as she kept talking, Her mouth twisted in a snarl.

"I think he really does care. Deep down. I get that it's not obvious, because sometimes he can be short-tempered. But he shows me he cares in little ways."

I shrugged, trying to understand her point of view.

"Maybe he does, but I've never seen that. I doubt the other girls would say they've seen any of those little signs either."

"Well, what do they know?" She dropped the notebook back into her chest with an angry huff, "They're jealous anyway. They'd probably say that just to keep me away from Master. He does love me."

Ooof. At this point, I should have packed it in. I should have said 'Yeah, maybe he does, let's discuss how to get him to show his love for you,' or something, anything other than what I did say.

"I just really don't think he loves you, Margaret. I mean, hell, he told me he loved me earlier tonight."

Her face curled in shock and horror.

"He did what?" She asked.

"During, um, coitus. He made me say it to him, too."

"No." She said.

"No?" I asked.

"Master did not say that to you. That's something he shares with me. You take that back," Margaret began to tear up, her beautiful face flushing red, her perfect lips curling.

"Margaret..." I pleaded with her, my heart heavy with sympathy for what she must be feeling. "Master sees us as objects. He maybe cares about you in some way," I tried to explain, "But You're not his wife, you're not his girlfriend, you're just his favorite toy."

Yes, in hindsight, I know how it sounds.

Margaret slapped me across the face. I was shocked by how fast my head snapped back, almost more shocked than I was by the pain. I jumped back on the bed in surprise, laying on my back.

"Just SHUT UP!" Margaret shouted, "He loves me! You're just fucking jealous! You're not different from the other girls! You're a jealous - a fucking jealous skank!" She jumped out of the bed, face wet with tears. Shocked, I held a hand to my face, feeling the warmth of my skin flushing.

"Margaret, I'm not, I don't-..." I couldn't say anything before she stormed out of the room. The door banged against the wall as she threw it open, and the sound of her footsteps thundered down the stairs. I heard shouting and clamoring, and realized she must have run into someone on the steps.

I sat on Margaret's bed, replaying everything in my mind. I felt my own tears rising as I realized how badly I'd botched my attempts to be friendly to Margaret. She hated me now. I'd done nothing to help her. I'd only hurt her. I hung my head.

Abigail appeared in the doorway. Behind her, Kat and Yvette crowded in, trying to see me.

"What the hell was that?" Abigail demanded. I shook my head and shrugged, trying not to cry. I failed badly. My resolve broke, and I burst into tears.

"Oh, sweet girl," Kat pushed roughly past Abigail, sitting on the bed next to me and wrapping me in a hug. While Kat held me, Abigail studied my face quietly.

"Are those... fingerprints?" Abigail asked.

"I'm fine," My voice cracked through my tears. With one hand, I tried to cover the side of my face Margaret had slapped.

"No the fuck you aren't!" Abigail yelled, pulling my hand aside, "She slapped you. Oh, HELL no!" Abigail wheeled about, taking long strides to the door. Before I could even process where the older slave was going, Yvette jumped in front of her, pleading with and wrapping her arms around the waist of Abigail.

"Abby, no!" cried Yvette, trying to restrain her friend.

"I just want to talk to her!" Abigail replied. Kat clambered off the bed, grasping one of Abigail's wrists and pleading with her.

"Stop. Abs, STOP!" She cried, as Abigail tried to wrestle free from the hold of both women. For a moment, it looked like she might succeed.

I should have done or said something, but I was too shocked and confused to understand what was happening. Abigail slipped her wrist free from Kat and wrenched Yvette's arms from around her middle, pushing the young girl back. She was only free for a second before Kat shocked everyone by tackling her tall friend, dragging Abigail to the ground.

"I am not losing you!" Kat shouted, her voice cracking. She brought Abigail to one knee, and Yvette pushed the woman over, straddling her.

"I just want to talk to her!" Abigail repeated, "Let me go!"

"If you hurt... stop it!" Kat yelled while struggled to hold Abigail's legs still, "If you hurt that woman, Mr. Morgan will sell you to the lowest bidder!" She cried. Abigail continued to struggle, but both women held her firmly. Kat continued desperately pleading with her friend.

"Unless you want to work in a mill for the rest of your life, you need to chill out!" Kat shouted.

Abigail relaxed, glaring at Yvette and Kat in turn.

"Fine. I'm fine," She answered.

I watched, shocked and befuddled as the three women stood, facing each other wearily.

"Everybody okay?" Kat asked, adjusting her shirt.

"I'm okay," Yvette replied. Abigail didn't say anything, frowning. Kat narrowed her eyes at her friend.

"Are you cool?"

"I'm cool," Abigail spat the words through a frown, "I was just going to talk to her." Yvette shook her head. And Kat motioned to the bed.

"Why don't we sit down and comfort Marcie, then we'll talk about what we want to say to Margaret." She suggested. Abigail scowled, but agreed, sitting beside me. She looked in my face, and her eyes softened.

"You okay?" She asked.

"I'm fine," I lied. Physically, I was fine, but I felt crushed.

"Tell us everything," Kat ordered, sitting opposite Abigail.

Obviously I couldn't tell them everything. Margaret had told me a secret, after all. I thought for a moment, trimming the truth down.

"Margaret and I were having a talk. I promised I wouldn't tell anyone what we were talking about. I said something hurtful, and I shouldn't have," I explained.

"I can't say why it came up, but I told her that she was, uh, nothing more than Master's favorite toy," I explained. Abigail winced.

"Ouch. I get why she slapped you," The older woman said.

"Abs!" Kat cried angrily, "Marcie did not deserve to be attacked for telling the truth. What Margaret did was wrong. Yes, what Marcie said was thoughtless and hurtful, or at least phrased thoughtlessly, and I maybe would have hit her too, you know, if I was Margaret, I definitely wouldn't by the way, ever, I mean hit you, I wouldn't..." Kat continued in her verbose way.

"I'm not saying she deserved it, or that Margaret was right," Abigail objected, and then calmly added, "But I get WHY it happened."

As the two argued, my eyes teared up again.

FUCK. I'd ruined my relationship with Margaret. I was enjoying our friendship. I liked her. She liked me. I wanted her to hang out with my other friends too. Maybe I had even envisioned Margaret doing stupid stuff with me and Kat, laughing while we tease the pool boys or playing Ping pong or just... doing normal stuff together.

My eyes filled again and I covered my face. Kat immediately comforted me, rubbing my back.

"I fucked up," I said.

"Yeah," She confirmed, "You did."

"I guess you should apologize," Yvette joined the conversation for the first time. She was sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed. "...But maybe let her cool down first."

"I don't know if there's any fixing this," Abigail commented, and I winced. Abigail noticed that I was hurt, and tried to backpedal. "Oh, uh, I mean, it'll probably take some time to rebuild your rel-... Ah, shit. Sorry," She offered a shrug, and I leaned into Kat, taking solace in her.

My friends and I went to bed soon afterwards. I was very relieved that Kat joined me in my bunk without asking. The small bed was a tight squeeze for the two of us, but I didn't want her anywhere else.

It was about ten minutes after we laid down that Margaret came back to her room. We heard her on the stairs, stomping dramatically up to her room. Abigail was still reading, a small lamp by her bed illuminating the pages. She looked up when we heard the favorite slave come in. Shaking her head, Abigail released a long sigh. I felt really crummy all night.

Feb. 26

[Drawn in the margins: A heart shape, half of it shattered like glass, and a hammer labeled 'Marcie']

Last night I didn't sleep well, and when I awoke early, that meant Kat did too. She's been sleeping with me every night. Abigail was already out of her bunk on her morning run, and we left Yvette to slumber. Kat and I didn't talk much as we walked to the big house for breakfast, but she did give me plenty of physical affirmations. Her thoughtful little hand squeezes, smiles, and gentle caresses let me know she cared.

Kat is so great.

Margaret has been cold and distant over the past couple days, even more than usual. She only talks to me or any of the girls to give orders, and then she goes back to her room. She spends most of her time in her bedroom, quiet. I tried to talk to her, knocking when I knew she was present, but she didn't answer. Master hasn't called her to his room for sex either, which Kat tells me is really strange. I guess he's noticed how unusual her behavior is too. I'm not dumb enough to force someone to talk if they don't want to.

I am dumb enough to tell her that thing she wants most in life is 'silly' and unachievable.

Ugh. I still get sick to my stomach when I think about the things I said. I feel like a complete asshole.

I did get one chance to speak with her today, though.

Walking through Master's house. I heard sick noises coming from the small half bath across the hall from Margaret's office (The same one I blew Tim and Cain in during the party). I instinctually stopped. My heart wouldn't let me ignore someone in need. I knocked on the door gently, calling out.

"Hey, you okay in there? Anything I can get you?" I didn't know who it was, so Margaret's voice caught me off guard.

"I'm fine," she called back. "I'll just be a m-," She resumed her sickness, expelling her stomach contents.

"You don't sound fine. Can I get you a glass of water?" I asked.

"...Please," Came her meek reply.

Jogging, I hurried to the kitchen to collect a glass of water, returning to the bathroom. I entered without knocking. Margaret was crumpled in the fetal position, hugging the toilet. Mascara ran down her eyes and her hair was in frizzy strands hanging about her face.

"Even if you can't drink, you should rinse and spit," I suggested, handing her the glass. She accepted it with a shaky hand, washing her mouth.

"Stomach bug?" I asked, leaning on the bathroom counter. Margaret didn't answer. I fought the urge to apologize right then and there. I wanted to tell her how stupid and mean I was to say hurtful such hurtful things, but I resisted. While I was racked with guilt, Margaret's physical health was more pressing.

Master's favorite slave refused to look at me. I could tell she was still upset.

"I'll leave you alone," I offered, "but if you need anything..." I remembered something that Winnie had told me once. I repeated the kind woman's words. "Well, you're still my friend. Even if I'm not yours." Margaret rested her head on the toilet seat, which is a sentence I never thought I'd write.

"He cut me off," She said simply, "for defying him."

I was confused for a moment, as I considered what she was saying. My eyes slowly widened as it dawned on me.

"He... Oh. He cut off your... supply. Of stuff." I said. Margaret nodded in response. My heart ached with pity for this poor woman.

"Is this about Winnie?" I asked, remembering how Margaret had defied Master to stand up for the pregnant slave. Margaret nodded. Moving next to the bedraggled beauty, I knelt down beside her.

"You are an incredible friend, Margaret. You had the most to lose by standing up for her, and you did it anyway. Winnie is very lucky to have you," I rubbed her back gently. She lifted her head. I thought she was going to say something, but she was sick again, and I held her hair out of the way.

"How long will this last?" I asked.

"I don't know," She replied, spitting into the toilet.

"What were you taking?" I asked, hoping to narrow down what withdrawal symptoms could be like.

"I don't know," She replied.

It took an hour to calm her stomach down enough that I could help her to bed.

Feb. 27

So this morning after breakfast, Winnie sat with Kat and I. She's basically done with the nursery work, and I finished the animals three or four days ago, so we don't see each other as much anymore. I hadn't told her about what happened between Margaret and I. To be honest, I was embarrassed. Winnie had been so encouraging and so supportive when I'd told her I wanted to be Margaret's friend. I didn't want her to know I'd botched it.

"I heard there was a fight," Winnie said, drowning her pancakes in syrup.

"No," I said, "Not a fight."

"Margaret slapped Marcie," Kat interjected around a mouthful of eggs, "After Marcie told her..." Kat caught my eye. I glared at her.

"Let Marcie tell me please, Katherine." Winnie gently suggested. The pregnant slave looked at me, waiting patiently. I put together the best description that I could of what had happened.