“No, Damien, I am a slave. You do not pay me and I cannot ask for days to go other places. We are different,” I assured him.

ALL the men were silent and they didn’t move to clean me. I felt sticky and was slowly leaking their cum; I wanted to bathe. Still, they just lay there around me.

“Humans are different,” Bane suddenly said. “That is why it is a happy slave.”

The men murmured agreement and I had to suppress the urge to roll my eyes. I wanted to explain to them I wasn’t happy being a slave; I’d just made up my mind to make the most of my life. Being miserable would just make me feel worse and I would still be a slave.

A N G E L A ‘s L I B R A R Y

Finally, Christof rose from the bed and picked me up.

know about courtesans, Ciara? Were you one?” he

talk about

chance for a bath diminished and

about them,”

told them everything I knew. Thankfully, I’d seen a show on the History channel at home. Strategically, I left out the part that the courtesans I knew about were all women. I just allowed the word “human” to suffice to explain them

world were humans that were the sexual partners of other humans. They did it as a job for money, but often found

Christof asked. “Where is the power in

was based on my best guesses. I’d never expected to need

often talked to their patrons, the people that paid them. Those

face carefully

do sometimes talk with

have never

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