Willing Slave, Unwilling Master Ch. 05

Hey all, thanks for all the comments and ratings on the last chapter. It really makes me happy to see when I'm stuck at work.

Once again I can't thank MadamWhitewalker enough for all the hard work, and for having the patience to deal with my numerous crimes against the English language.

I hope you enjoy chapter five.

— — —

Dan

With a loud hum and the distinct sound of gravel being ripped asunder, Rose's would-be new owner departs. Frowning, I start the slow walk back to the lounge, not entirely sure I want to face my family just yet. I really cannot work it out; why was he so desperate to buy a slave girl who, according to him, was about to lose her mind?

Deliberately slowing my pace, I consider the facts. So, he's my dad's friend, and, if he can be believed, he's worked in the slave trade for years. As if that's something to boast about. Presumably his current, or possibly last, place of employment was the compound where Rose grew up. That makes sense; Rose had been isolated and complete compliance is just her nature. It wouldn't have been hard to spirit her away in the dead of night.

After that, things are a little fuzzy. If his employers knew that he had stolen Rose, why had they not gone to the enforcers? I suppose he could be trying to get her back before his trail was inevitably discovered, but unless he planned to kill her she would tell whoever questioned her exactly where she had been the moment they asked. So perhaps he's acting on behalf of his bosses, but then why would they rely on the same swamp ooze who stole her from them in the first place? No, that doesn't seem very plausible.

I stop off at the kitchen to get a glass of water that I don't really want, still thinking hard. Perhaps he's found out her true worth and wants to re-sell her to a better bidder. But then why offer so many credits? He would be extremely lucky to make even a small profit from that deal. So, personal use perhaps? But then, he had her in his care and sold her for three thousand credits. Now three days later he's happy to spend seventeen thousand more to get her back?

None of it makes sense. Unless the reason he wants Rose isn't her beautiful skin, but what lies underneath. Or more importantly, what doesn't. But that's impossible, just impossible. I've been reading too many crime thrillers.

Unable to avoid my family any longer - at least without raising suspicions - I walk into the living room, asking the question that has been burning a hole in my mind before anyone else can say anything.

"Dad, does your tablet have an ident scanner in it?"

He looks confused for a moment before pulling out the intricately folded collection of transparent glass panes that make up his tablet. Most of these devices don't come with the ability to scan ident chips, since getting someone's name so impersonally from the nano chip in their hand is considered rude. And on top of that, the extra security needed to safeguard against everything from scammers to Vil hackers puts a hefty price tag on top of an already costly gadget. The only people who use tablets with ident scanners are businessmen, like my father, to whom missing a name or not quite catching the company of a client working for him could cost him big.

"Course it does," he shrugs, "Why?"

"Can it read Emily's chip?" I ask.

My mum and sister look at me confusedly as my father shrugs one again.

"Girl!" Without needing further prompting, Emily offers up her hand to her Master, who scans it with a loud ping. "Shows her name and emergency contact info, what exactly is the point of all this?"

"Emily, could you go and fetch Rose and Zack from my room?" She looks to her owner for permission before hurrying away.

"There's no point, I hope, but given that she's 'stolen goods'," I finger quote, "It's worth a try, right?"

"So you can find her rightful owner and return her," my father says, bristling with an anger that my sister and I have learned to fear. "All while I'm out three thousand credits."

"I'm not returning Rose," I say, a little too quickly.

"Power of the pussy," Jezebel observes with a snigger, dangling her legs over the side of the armchair.

"Jezebel Fallow, you watch your language," Mum scolds, but gives me a proud look; the same encouraging little smile she used to use when I managed to score a point in zero-grav zoon ball, back when I was young enough to think I could find common ground with my father.

I intently begin to pace as the room fills with an awkward silence as thick as pea soup. So much so that the creek of the door as Emily returns startles everyone. Suddenly the centre of attention, Emily's cheeks redden, and she hurries to kneel at her Master's feet. Zack, who was trailing behind her, moves at once to Jezebel, leaving a nervous looking Rose to scamper over to me.

"Stand please, Rose," I say before she can damage her knees in her enthusiasm to kneel; honestly, most Lower Vil must have arthritis by the time they're thirty. "We need to scan your right hand. Is that alright?"

My mother tuts but Rose raises her hand obediently. I take a step back, enjoying the contrast of her red hair against the white of the summer dress that she's wearing. With a grunt like an old mule my father rises from the sofa, walking over to us with a frown.

"Hold still," I tell her, "This won't hurt."

Her eyes drop to the ground as my dad steps in front of her. I say nothing as the tablet is held just above her hand, the room falling silent as we wait for the ping.

And wait, and wait.

My father, apparently in a state of disbelief, begins to move the tablet all over her body, from the top of her head to her bare toes. I'm half convinced that he's going to stick the device up her skirt but, thankfully, she's spared that indignantly.

My head spins with the enormity of the situation.

"What does this mean?" my mother asks in a hushed voice.

"I have no idea," I admit.

"It's impossible," my father says, looking at his tablet as if the device had personally offended him. "Perhaps she had it removed!" He roughly grabs Rose's hand, holding it close to his squinting face. Rose whimpers softly, looking up at me with big, confused eyes.

"Let her go!" I slap his hand away and pull Rose into my arms. The sudden affection raises eyebrows around the room. "You see a scar?" I ask, gently stroking Rose's back. Ident chips are extremely difficult to remove once implanted, they bond to a major vain in the hand and leave one hell of a scar, assuming the patient even survives the ministrations of whatever back alley doctor is crazy enough to perform the procedure.

Dad seems to be in a bit of a daze, "I thought I was getting a girl with a bit of an attitude problem or something, not..." He pauses. "Not this..." He shares a worried look with my mother.

"She has to go, Dan," Mum twists her fingers tighter in her lap as she speaks. "I'm sorry, but we can't take the risk. And you heard your father's friend, he'll give you twenty thousand credits to make this problem go away." I've never heard her sound so cold or detached; she won't even look at me.

Rose tenses in my arms, a tiny, barely audible, whimper escaping her. "No," I reply fiercely. "I'm not selling her no matter what."

"And if we all end up in jail because of her?" Mum asks icily.

Jezebel bolts upright. "That could happen?"

"Ident chips are not legally required," I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel. Humans are not forced to have the chips implanted, but I seriously doubt the Lower Vil are given such liberties.

A sentiment my father echoes backs at me with a grimace.

"Anyway, as long as Rose stays inside no one will even think to suspect that there's a problem. Hell, you went shopping for an entire day and never once picked up on the fact that she isn't chipped."

"What about the freak though?" she asks, "He must know right?"

"Yeah?" I shrug, "What can he do about it? He stole Rose, he can't exactly go to the enforcers and the compound must already know about her, there's no way they couldn't."

"That's true," my sister says thoughtfully before leaning back into her seat, her panic evaporating in mere moments. Jezebel is the kind of person who can be furious with you one minute and laughing with you the next; she just doesn't seem to hold onto bad moods for as long as the rest of us. Then again, she makes up for lost time in just how bad her bad moods can get.

Unfortunately, my parents weren't so easily appeased. "I'm sorry, I truly am," Dad says, not meeting my eyes as he grabs Rose by the upper arm. "But your mother's right, it's too dangerous to keep her."

There's a tiny squeak of distress as Rose is yanked away from me, her hands clutching at my shirt for a second before her training kicks in and she dutifully lets go.

"You're condemning her to death!" I snarl angrily as my mother steps between us, placing her palm against my chest.

"They don't kill people at the compounds, son, you of all people should know that," Dad replies in what I imagine he thinks is a soothing tone.

"They don't kill Lower Vil with trackers," I correct him. "They can do whatever they like to Rose and they will. You're not stupid, you know how this ends for her."

"We don't know that for sure," he replies flatly. "Regardless, I'm sure the girl would not want to put you at risk. Would you?" he asks, prompting Rose.

"No Sir," she whimpers, green eyes pleading with mine across the void between us.

"Fuck you!" I retort, "Don't you dare try and put this on her. This is your choice." I pause, standing up a little taller. "What did grandad James use to say?"

"Dan..." My mother warns. But it's too late, I've found my trump card. By all accounts, my grandfather on my father's side was a hero, a star pilot fighting on the very front lines of the war. Although he did this for almost all of his adult life, for someone whose whole life story was written in blood, he was the kindest and wisest man I ever knew. And to my father, he was nothing short of a god.

Despite her best efforts to remain obedient and composed, silent tears begin to fall from Rose's now downturned eyes. "Whatever justifications you think you have, at the end of the day it's your finger on the trigger. Denying that is a worse sin than the murder," I quote.

A hush falls over the room as I finish speaking. My parents look at each other, a worried frown crossing my father's forehead. Surprisingly, Jezebel is the first to speak. "Dan's right. We're not a good family, but we're not killers." She strokes Zack's hair as she speaks. "If Rose stays inside no one will know, right?"

"Stars help me," Dad says, pushing Rose away angrily, causing her to stumble and fall to the floor. "She doesn't leave this house and we don't talk about this to anyone, even family. The first sign that something is amiss and she's gone. Clear?"

I nod, side-stepping my outraged mother to pull Rose up into my arms. Oblivious to the rest of the world, I kiss away the errant tears on her cheeks before letting her hide her red face in my shoulder.

"I'm ordering pizza," Jezebel announces, kissing the top of Zack's head as she gets to her feet. "Anyone else in?"

Pizza has been the traditional food of choice after a family argument, and we all somberly agree to chip in. Looking down at the girl in my arms, I wonder if she has any concept of the kind of trouble she could rain down on us, just by being her? Then I wonder, knowing what I know now, If I would still have taken her in? I can't picture a universe in which I wouldn't.

— — —

Rose

Master saved me. I can hardly believe it; he fought with his own family to protect me! I snuggle closer into his chest in the vacant lounge. I wish I knew exactly what I did to earn the ire of Master's parents. I know they couldn't find something in my hand, and that someone else wanted to buy me? But I still don't really understand how it all fits together; perhaps if I'm a very good girl Master will explain. Then again, it's becoming harder and harder to define exactly what being a good girl for my Master entails.

"Food is ready Master Dan," Emily's voice startles the pair of us, my owner being just as lost in thought as me.

"Thanks Ems," Master says, helping me to my feet before standing up himself. I notice that Emily is looking at me apprehensively, her eyes darting to my Master before returning obediently to the floor; it's a wonder she doesn't get dizzy.

"You can speak to Rose if you want," Master says kindly, correctly interpreting her desire.

"I'm so glad you're allowed to stay!" Emily squeals, throwing her arms around me.

I return the embrace nervously; the spines under Emily's blonde hair look very sharp. But when I tentatively press my cheek against them, they turn out to be as soft as Barnaby's fur.

"Come on you two, you can cuddle later," Master laughs. Slightly flushed, Emily and I follow him into the dining room.

Master's mother glares at me as I approach the table. I give my owner a pleading look, hoping he will allow me to kneel on the floor beside his chair like Emily and Zack. But he either ignores or, more likely, misreads my look, pulling out a chair for me to sit on.

Taking my seat, I keep my eyes downcast. I don't want to anger Master's family further, although my equal position amongst their ranks is doing a good job of annoying them anyway. Emily smiles broadly up at me as Master kisses the top of my head. I return her grin, reminded that no matter how displeased with me the rest of his family is, Master will protect me.

I have to hide a giggle at the contented look on Zack's face as his Mistress slowly strokes his hair, his cheek pressed into her thigh. She's a kind Mistress. Not as kind as my Master, of course. But then again, even in stories Masters are not as kind or as wonderful as mine. With thoughts of this afternoon's events banished, for now, I lower my head obediently and wait to find out why Mistress Jezebel is so excited about the round food called pizza.

— — —

As a rule, we are not supposed to have a favourite food or drink, simply because a Master can decide to take that favoured thing away from you at any time and it's foolish to become too attached. Still, as I cuddle next to my owner in front of Master's view screen, I can't help assigning pizza as my favourite food.

Master strokes my hair as we watch a movie, his hands expertly caressing the back of my neck and my head, finding the small patch of downy hair that causes an involuntary rumble in my throat. I have to work hard to keep focused on the film. I've never really seen a movie before; they showed us short clips of things that couldn't be fully taught via photographs. And the wardens made us watch that video, to teach us just what happens to those who break one of the overriding edicts. Suppressing a shudder, I remind myself that I've broken two just today.

In fact, this particular film doesn't even show real humans; it's computer animated. The story is intended for children, I think. But it isn't very realistic; the main character is a princess who lives in a castle, yet there are no Lower Vil around to care for her. Then again, some of the animals are behaving not at all how I've been taught animals should act, so maybe it's a purposeful inconstancy.

Despite my initial reservations, I find myself getting into the movie and, by the time Master pauses the screen on a list of scrolling names, there's a huge smile on my face.

"Did you like that?" Master asks, looking down at me with a grin to match my own.

"Yes! I've never experienced a story like that!" I blush at my own enthusiasm, "Our stories are about girls like me finding our owners, Master," I explain.

"Which do you prefer?"

I'm about to tell him that the books from my childhood are of course my preference, but after seeing a new story where the protagonist is allowed to be a hero in her own right? Now I'm not so sure. "I don't know Master. I enjoy both." A safe compromise.

"Would you like to watch another?" Master asks, pleased with my answer for reasons I can't fathom.

"Yes Master," I reply at once, more than happy to spend another few hours cuddling in my owner's lap with a new story to experience. But something gnaws at me; Master still hasn't told me why his parents wanted to get rid of me, or why everyone was so interested in my hand.

"Master, may I ask a question?" I ask nervously; for the last nineteen years asking questions had run the risk of pain. Preparing for punishment is a hard habit to break.

Master strokes my cheek softly, "You may."

"What happened? Why did the device not work on me? Why did Mistress Abigail want me to leave?" The questions bust out of me in a rush, like a drowning man gasping for air. The curiosity that was quelled by fear at supper now bursts forth in a desperate gush.

"I wondered when you would ask." He nods approvingly, before his face falls. "It's a long story and, truth be told, I don't really understand everything that's happening, but I will try and explain."

I nod once, sitting up with my legs crossed so that Master has my undivided attention, missing the comfortable warmth of his body immediately.

He looks away thoughtfully for a few minutes, before beginning to speak.

"Do you know what an ident chip is?" he asks.

I shake my head.

"At its core, an ident chip is a tracker, issued and monitored by the government and forced on the general public under the illusion of choice."

His bitterness shocks me. But I don't really understand why... surely something that means that the humans in charge of other humans can find you should you become lost is a good thing? Doesn't being monitored make Master feel safe?

"Human's aren't like Lower Vil, Rose," Master says, correctly interrupting my confused look. "We cherish our freedom, and having other humans constantly keeping track of you is disturbing. They are not supposed to use the tracking function while we are not on government or public property, but..." He shrugs, "We are getting a little off topic, where was I?"

I open my mouth, wondering if that's a question I'm supposed to answer. "Your father's device couldn't find a chip under my skin?" I say cautiously, not quite able to stop myself from bracing for the pain of a sudden punishment.

"Exactly." He nods. "And as far as I know you are the only Lower Vil without an ident chip."

"I promise to stay close by Master!" I say quickly, "That way you won't need to worry about not being able to find me!"

He laughs softly, "I wish it were that simple sweetie. The problem is, I don't really know what the government might do should they discover that they can't track you, but I doubt it's anything good."

"Am I putting you and your family in danger, Master?" I ask, trying not to let my voice shake.

"No... well... maybe a little. But that doesn't matter." He frowns at my expression, "Oh no, don't even think about it."

"But Master! It's my duty to protect you!" I protest. How could he have known what I was about to say? It doesn't matter, a Lower Vil protects their owner regardless of the cost. There is no greater act of obedience than to sacrifice yourself for your Master.

"This isn't on you Rose, you don't owe me your life."

"Yes Master," I nod. It's not my place to argue with my owner. But I will protect him, even if he doesn't want me to, even if it makes me the most disobedient, awful girl in the world. I can't work out if my willful act of disobedience is a sign that my mind is fracturing or a reflection of just how I feel about my Master.

Some of my internal conflict must show on my face, because Master says, "Don't worry, we'll keep you hidden until we can work out a way around this. Everything will be fine, you'll see. In fact," he continues in what even I can tell is a falsely cheerful voice, "the worst thing to come out of all of this is that you might not be able to use Jezebel's art tablet."