[Tales of Amaranth 03] - Hidden Heart [Loose Id MM BDSM] by Thom Lane

Author:Thom Lane [Lane, Thom]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

When I woke at first light, I was over by the door, as far as that tight chain would allow me: as though Id tried to leave the room again, in my sleep again.

Sergeant Zander said nothing, but I knew he was awake. I could feel his chilly, judgmental gaze on me as I crawled back to the foot of the bed, to that abandoned blanket, for what little time he kept me longer. There was no question of going back to sleep. We lay there in our separate solitudes, him in his abiding temper and me in my confusion and distress, until at last he rose and kicked me to my feet and sent me running to the stables, “where you belong,” he said.

I still thought I belonged at his feet, but he apparently disagreed. He was master, he should know. I didnt even know who I was anymore. A slave, of course, and they called me Tiffin; perhaps that ought to be enough. Just for a little while there Id dared to add something more in the deep privacy of my head, Sergeant Zander’s boy, which was something to be proud of, something to defend.

Only it seemed that I couldnt keep anything, memory or control or the swift affection of a man. He was just as swift to give me up, to toss me back, not worth his time or trouble. I looked for him in vain that night in the courtyard, among the other free folk. No one else wanted me, either; perhaps the word had spread that I was troublesome. Or—more likely, I thought—the sergeant had said nothing and people still thought that he had a claim on me, that nobody would dispute.

Like a blanket flung after me in contempt, that residual protection of his name might keep me safe, untouched for a few days, a week or so, perhaps. If this was safety. To me it seemed only to be misery.

Master Colson, he knew. He slapped my butt as he locked me away in the straw with a dozen other bucks, and I thought there was a message in that casual handling: cheer up, youngster, I thought he was saying, temper only burns a day or two. He’ll come back for you.

Slaves learn to be patient. I endured that night and the next and the one after that, with no sight of Sergeant Zander and no word. Well, no word for me, of course not; he wouldnt be sending messages to a slave. I did hear his name, in the soft talk of other slaves around me, during the days work and round the horse trough after and in the pen at night. Everyone knew him, seemingly. And admired him, I thought, that too. It would have warmed my heart, that measure of respect tinged with just a little proper fear that I could hear in their voices when they spoke of him. If he were only my own master, if I could only think of him that way.

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