Page 8 of Truth or Dare

My future husband. The words echoed in my head.

“I can’t stress this enough, Felicia. You’re to be his wife.”

“I understand, Sir.”

“You are excused. Now that you officially have a Master you are no longer available to patrons or staff. Your collar will be changed immediately. You’ll continue to exercise daily and it may be weeks or longer until he comes for you so you may rest but you will not forget all you’ve been taught. If when he arrives your Master wants additional training, you’ll be enrolled in an advanced transition program to complete before you leave. As of now you are no longer Kruna property, but we are stewards in your Master’s absence.”

“Thank you, Sirs. It’s an honor to be chosen.”

I was escorted back to my room by Cleo and one of the other handlers. Cleo radiated barely restrained fury all the way back. When she closed the door after changing my collar and I was alone, I let out a breath that it felt like I’d been holding in. Holding in for years.

I would have weeks of peace. Weeks. What would come after that could be anything. It could be hell on earth. It could make me wish I was back here (although not likely as I’d lived in this particular hell long enough). But despite the fact that the next phase of my life or my next phase of my hell was unknown, I had weeks of peace to look forward to and I hadn’t had anything specific to look forward to in a very long time, so I curled up on the thin mat on the floor that had been my bed for 21 months and 9 days and faced the wall so that the cameras wouldn’t see my face. Then I did something I hadn’t done in 19 months; I quietly let tears fall.

I was going to meet my Master and future husband today. It’d been almost two months. They were weird weeks of not being Felicia. Weird weeks of being no one, just this shadow at Kruna with the black X on her throat.

I’d be assessed through spending time with him for a few days here and then he would either take me with him or he’d leave me here for some additional training wherever he saw deficiencies. Or, he’d reject me and they’d choose someone else for him. This was my one chance. If it didn’t happen, I would not get another. Failure was not an option.

I had been sick to my stomach for days with worry. Really, I’d been worried for weeks. The peace I’d thought I’d get was riddled with worries about my future. I knew nothing about him other than the fact that he was a son of a partner in Kruna, an American, and that he’d requested a redhead with a big sexual appetite. I knew nothing about what life would be like after I was taken away from this place.

They had me dressed in a pale, flowy peach summer dress, I wore nude, heeled sandals, and my hair was trimmed to the middle of my back and then tamed by a flat iron, like it typically was. I wore minimal makeup. I was given new and larger than usual blue sapphire stud earrings to wear with a matching sapphire tennis bracelet. They matched the jewel on my navel as well. I was dressed very differently from what I typically wore, which rarely strayed from lingerie. I hadn’t dressed in clothing designed for the real world for almost two years. Underneath the dress were white thigh-high stockings with lace garters and matching bra and panties.

Cleo removed the blue leather collar with a dangling X of black obsidian gems on the front before escorting me to a guest suite. I immediately got to my knees to assume my standard waiting pose when Cleo snapped at me to sit on the edge of the bed instead. I avoided the urge to frown and internally shuddered that I had to avoid the urge. Being in street clothes must be messing with my brain because I didn’t normally show any emotion and at this stage didn’t have to tell myself to hide it because it came so naturally to me to keep it all locked away. I was on autopilot all the time. But this situation had me off my game.

Add to that having a naked throat and then being told to do something as simple as sit on a bed instead of waiting on the floor in the pose I’d been trained to wait in were both foreign. I sat and placed my hands in my lap.

Cleo leaned close to my ear and whispered a warning that was soft in volume, but the tone was laced with venom. “Fuck this up and that ass is mine, you. I won’t be lenient.”

Cleo, Cleopatra Jade, was a tall and elegant forty-seven-year-old Asian woman with flawless skin, not a wrinkle on her super skinny face, and zero per cent body fat. She had the temper of a Tasmanian devil. She’d stayed away from me the past six weeks but glared at me every time I was in her orbit. I knew that if I was lucky, I’d never see her again. It wouldn’t be lucky, exactly, because I didn’t know what was next for me and I didn’t dare to hope, but I’d be forever grateful to never be in her evil clutches again.

I remained frozen, waiting for my future husband. I hadn’t received another brief, which was strange. I expected to be told what persona to assume, what he wanted from my behavior, but that never came. I was on edge because without directions I didn’t know what to do with myself. I had found my way in this world because I always knew what was expected of me, but without any instructions to fortify my armor I was feeling uneasy. All I could do was try my best to hide it.

I opened the door to the room that had been assigned to me for my stay, which they suggested be two days or longer, as lengthy as I wanted.

I knew that I had to play this carefully.

It was a spacious room with a king-size bed and a large desk. There was an adjoining bathroom. I was told that under the bed were restraints, whips, and a chest of sex toys, if I wanted them, and that there was a hatch in the ceiling that contained a swing. It was a nice room despite being discreetly equipped for kink or sexual torture and looked like any typical five-star hotel room. On the edge of the bed sat Felicia Sapphire, my slave.

I couldn’t tell this girl what my plans were. She had to think she was being sold to me. I had to get in and get out and then I’d reveal to her that she was not to be my wife or my slave, but that she would instead gain her freedom back under some very specific conditions that would protect her and protect me and my family from blowback.

I had to play things carefully because I did not need to be alerting these scumbags to the fact that I was not likeminded. I didn’t know if anything here was being recorded or filmed so I would play this game carefully.

She was on the edge of the bed, staring at her hands in her lap. Her beauty took my breath away for a second. She had the face of an angel, almost porcelain doll-like, straight shiny copper-toned hair with auburn highlights. It fell to just past her breasts, arranged over one shoulder. She was tiny, but looked toned and fit.

The short, bald, Spanish guy who Chen had left me with when he got an urgent call had offered to escort me to the room, but I said I’d like to meet my bride-to-be for the first time alone. I added a smirk for good measure

He’d smirked back, saying, “By all means; I completely understand. She’s been waiting for you.”

He sent me ahead with a bellboy with plans to have another conversation either later that evening or the following morning. The bellboy took my suitcase to the closet and closed the door and then I nodded at him as he shut the door behind himself. I locked it.

I’d heard the door open and close and I knew it was the moment of truth. I had no expectations. I knew better than to try to anticipate what would be next. I only knew that I was to not only be owned by this man but was to become his wife, too.

This suggested that there would be a certain degree of freedom because the man didn’t just want a slave in his bedroom but wanted the appearance of legitimacy and normalcy that having a wife suggested.

I might be expected to have children by him. I’d heard he was American and that meant I might get off this continent. I’d get away from them, the ones who broke me, who took the person I was and crushed her into dust.

It also meant an extreme amount of responsibility. To hit this level of elite meant that I was expected to be perfection: Kruna personified. I’d represent him to the world. I’d represent Kruna to him. I didn’t know if he was attractive, ugly, psychotic, abusive, or what sexual tastes he would have. All I knew was that I couldn’t screw up.

All of what he was and what my life would be would reveal itself over the coming days. I knew that being sold to become a wife was a level of elite that some women here aspired to, that most feared due to the level of responsibility, but that precious few actually got. It would be as close to normal as normal could get for us. I’d hit the slave girl jackpot for all intents and purposes. There had only been six in all of Kruna history, which dated back to the early 1970s, that became wives, only thirty-six that had been sold. I would be the seventh wife, thirty-seventh slave sold.

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