The meat is probably the best thing I’ve eaten in months. Even back home I haven’t had anything this good in forever.
I don’t even know what kind of animal it came from. But it’s rich and tender, cooked with herbs I can’t identify, and for the first time since I arrived in this nightmare world, my stomach isn’t eating itself from the inside out.
Tisha dragged in another chair maybe ten minutes ago. Just hauled it through the doorway like it weighed nothing, dropped it at the table, and gestured for me to sit. So now I’m here, at their table, with my own plate piled high with food.
My own generous portion.
I cut another piece and chew slowly, trying not to think about how surreal this is. How I’m sitting here, eating dinner with the two women who own me, like this is normal.
Except they’re both staring at me.
I glance up and catch Meira’s pale silver eyes locked on my face. Tisha’s doing the same thing, her fork paused halfway to her mouth. Neither of them has eaten more than a few bites, but my plate is almost empty.
I swallow and look back down at the food.
Tisha shifts in her seat. She nods toward Meira, her expression almost cautious. “You’re not mad I got Vincent this much, are you?”
The question surprises me enough that I glance up again.
Meira doesn’t look away from me. Her voice is calm, measured. “No.”
I cut another piece of meat, chew it, swallow. The silence stretches out between the three of us, broken only by the soft clink of silverware against plates.
Meira’s fork moves. She cuts a piece of her meat, slow and deliberate, and then leans forward and places it on my plate.
I stare at it.
“No, what I have is plenty.” I say honestly.
Tisha’s fork moves immediately after. She cuts a piece of her own meat and adds it to my plate, grinning wide enough that I can see her teeth.
Meira’s voice is soft, unhurried. “We need you to keep up your strength, Vincent.”
I look down at my plate, now somehow fuller than it was a minute ago despite the fact I’ve been steadily eating. “I think much more and I’ll be overindulging.”
Meira’s expression doesn’t change, but something happens to her eyes. The warmth drains out of them like someone pulled a plug, leaving behind something flat and still as glass.
“Is my slave turning down my generosity?”
The temperature in the room drops about ten degrees.
“I just... I don’t want to take from you. Especially if you’re hungry.”
Tisha’s head swivels between us, her green eyes tracking the exchange like she’s watching a sword fight.
Meira doesn’t move. She just sits there, perfectly still, those pale silver eyes locked on my face. The silence stretches out long enough that I can hear my own heartbeat in my ears.
“I’m not hungry,” she says finally. Her voice is so calm it’s almost worse than if she’d been angry. “Are you, Tisha?”
“Nope.” Tisha’s answer comes quick, too quick.
I look down at the two extra pieces of meat on my plate.
“Vincent.” Meira’s voice is soft, measured, each word dropping into the silence with careful weight. “When we give you something, what is the appropriate response?”
My throat feels tight. “Thank you?”
“That’s right.”
Tisha nods beside her, a sharp jerk of her chin toward my plate.
I cut into one of the pieces of meat they added. The first bite goes down easier than I expect. The second follows. I chew slowly, aware of both of them watching every movement.
“Good slave.” Meirs says pleased.
After a moment, Meira returns to her plate. Tisha does the same, though she’s still glancing between us every few seconds like she’s waiting for something else to happen.
I’m halfway through the meat when the question bubbles up before I can stop it.
“Is it normal for slaves to eat at the table with their masters?”
“No.”
Meira’s answer is immediate.
“Ah.”
Tisha makes a sound that might be the beginning of a laugh, quickly stifled. I glance up and catch her grinning, her shoulders shaking slightly.
Meira turns her head toward her wife, one silver eyebrow arching. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.” Tisha’s grin widens. “I’ve just never seen you share with anyone besides me.”
The words hang in the air for a moment.
“Well, I share with you, honey, because I’m in love with you.” Her voice is soft, measured. “I shared with Vincent because he’s now our prized stud.”
Tisha leans back in her chair, still grinning. “And because you enjoyed the sex, right?”
Meira’s head snaps toward her. “No.” The word comes out sharp enough to cut. “Don’t be crass.”
Tisha’s grin doesn’t fade, but she raises both hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Just asking.”
Tisha leans forward, her grin shifting into something more genuine. “Well, I shared with him because I liked the sex.”
Meira sighs, long and slow.
“So, Vincent.” Tisha’s attention locks onto me fully now. “What kind of preferences do you have for the clients you’re going to fuck?”
The question catches me off guard. “Just... normal stuff, I guess. Big tits.” The words feel awkward coming out of my mouth. “Uh... someone who won’t hurt me, I guess? I just don’t want to be tortured, if I had to put it into words.” I pause, trying to think of what else matters. “But other than that, yeah. Big tits. A pretty face would be great. I’d like to avoid, you know... severely overweight people, I guess?”
Meira’s pale eyes study me. “Do you have any inclination toward the type of beastfolk you’d be willing to lie with?”
Beastfolk. That must be what they call the monster girls here.
“Are bunny girls a thing here?”
Tisha nods. “Yeah.”
Meira tilts her head slightly. “Bunny girls? Really?”
I shrug. “And, well... elves are great.”
Something cold flickers behind Meira’s eyes. “But not Drow?”
“What?”
“Dark elves.”
“When I said elves I meant light and dark.” I correct.
Her silver eyes don’t leave my face. “Are you not afraid of Drow?”
“Listen, I’m not a racist, alright…”
“All humans are racist.” She cuts me off, her words sharp and precise. “All of you despise Drow. I can’t even walk around without hiding myself in your kingdoms.”
“Meira...” I pause, trying to find the right words. “I can’t speak to any of that. I’m sorry it’s like that.” I meet her eyes, holding her gaze even though part of me wants to look away. “You two asked me who I’m willing to sleep with. I’ll happily sleep with anyone kind and not too ugly, okay?”
The silence stretches out for a beat too long.
“Even an Oni?” Meira asks.
“I don’t know what that is.”
Tisha snorts, leaning back in her chair. “You’re kinda dumb, aren’t you? You don’t seem to know much.”
“He does seem very ignorant.”
“I guess I was sheltered. Until I became a slave.” The lie comes out smooth enough that I almost believe it myself.
Meira watches me for another long moment, then makes a soft sound in the back of her throat. “Hmmmm.”
Tisha shifts in her seat, her attention moving between Meira and me like she’s waiting to see if the tension is going to break or escalate. When nothing happens, she stretches her arms above her head with a satisfied groan.
“So where’s he going to sleep?”
I glance around the room. The bed is pushed against the far wall, and even from here I can tell it’s probably barely big enough for both of their extremely tall bodies. No way it could fit a third.
“The ground is fine.”
“No.” Meira’s answer lands before I finish answering the question.
Tisha’s shoulders drop slightly, like she’d been holding her breath. Relief washes across her face so clearly that I realize she must have been worried Meira would say yes.
“He’s too valuable. If anyone were to break in, he’d be too easy of a target down there.” Meira pauses, her pale eyes moving to Tisha. “We’ll have to squeeze him on the bed with us.”
Tisha’s grin returns, wide and genuine. “I think so too.”
My throat goes dry.
“The floor really isn’t an…”
“Vincent.” Meira’s voice cuts through my protest. “What does a slave say when his master is kind?”
I swallow. “Thank you.”
“Good boy.”