"... Get her ready for tomorrow. We're getting a special visitor. I don't want even a speck of dirt on her skin, you hear?"
"Yes, boss."
"And have her eat something. We don't want her fainting, do we?"
"Of course not, boss."
I wait until the steps fade before forcing my eyes open. I still feel sleepy. I can still see his back moving away from me, disappearing into the bright yellow-lit corridor. My handler, Mathew, blocks my vision as he opens the large glass door to my 'room.'
The room in question is fairly spacious, but only because the only things in it are my bed on one side, and a chair and a small table against the other. I prefer the first room to this. They called this one an upgrade. The walls are green,not just one shade but splashes of different tones scattered around randomly, making it look almost like a forest without a sun to give it life. I despise the color so much I wish I could wash it off, or paint over it so I wouldn't have to look at it every day.
I've asked for brushes and paint before, but they think it's some kind of grand scheme. Five years in this green soup of a room and I feel my insides taking on the color.
A hard hand on my shoulder brings me back. Mathew stirs me out the open door and into the bathroom. Inside, Cathy, my second handler, waits patiently by the white circular marble bathtub, sleeves of her bright pink shirt rolled up past her forearms. I'm stripped immediately and dipped into the flower-scented bath. I'm not sure exactly what flower — it's kind of hard to tell with all my senses dulled — but I like it. Whatever it is.
The air is steamy and a little metallic.
The two of them begin the ritual of scrubbing and washing my hair and body. I don't miss the faint blush coloring their cheeks. They've been my handlers for years and still react like virgins when offered a kiss. I know I'm not ugly. My pale skin is well taken care of, save for a few scratches from preferential services. My body is nothing to be shy of. I get the reaction.
I'd probably react the same if I were a normal person meeting me.
Thing is, before, I could only smell their arousal. But now I can see it. I've been able to since about a year ago, after my last punishment from the owner. Punishment I was told I deserved. As far as they know, I'm still as blind as the day I was born. Even I was a little surprised when I was collected from the forest and could actually see them. They looked nothing like I imagined.
They don't know. They've never suspected or even thought to check — and who would? My eyes, even when bleached, still try to follow the movement of people. I make it feel. I enjoy how petrified the first-timers are, hearing them gasp, backing away like I might hurt them — like I'm not always held down by magic-reinforced restraints because the owners still don't trust me not to run.
Seeing doesn't change anything. If anything, it's worse — knowing who my handlers are after eighteen years of being in the dark.
The idea of escaping crosses my mind sometimes. Freedom. Something I've never experienced. Would it feel like the books say?
This whole f*ck-show is everything I know. My entire life revolves around fucking and being fucked.
They tell me I should be grateful to have such high demand. To be needed. And I am very grateful, indeed.
I also know I don't care for this kind of life.
It's not something I would miss if it all burned down today and turned to grey ash.
I might want it to.
I might dance around the fire as it roars its victory music into the air, grabbing more life as it sings that sweet, sweet song.
Just the idea pulls a reaction out of me — like how a hot-blooded, thirsty teenager reacts when a hot girl strips.
Kind of like most, if not all, of my 'visitors.' A once-in-a-lifetime creature is born, and everyone wants a turn.
It's so beautiful.
So mysterious and fragile-looking they want to look at it.
Want to touch it.
Want to cut it open.
Wanna f*ck it.
Want it to f*ck them.
But they shout when given a price.
"...The thing's f*cking blind. The hell I'm going to pay that much for a blind f*cking dog."
"What scam are you running here? Are you even sure that thing's real? It doesn't even look blind."
"...Don't f*ck with me. A Danari is never worth that much. What would the king say if he—"
They still buy it. Time with me is like a wet dream with their celebrity crush. They all want it. If allowed, they'll do anything to get it.
"We're done, mistress."
My handlers assist me out of the tub, dry me down, then start tonight's body treatment. Matthew goes to call the owner for the routine inspection.
Cathy lathers my body with different lotions. She reaches my shoulder, and I catch a whiff of blood. The left side of her neck is conveniently very exposed. A little red line lies suspiciously close to my mouth.
A small bead of red forms at the end and starts sliding down toward her collar. My eyes follow the trail. From my peripheral, I see her eyeing my mouth, hopefully — almost desperately. Her fingers shake against my skin.
I blow a breath on her neck and she squirms, coming closer.
Do it.
"P-please, mistress."
My lips part, exposing teeth.
Why so hesitant?
Do it or I'll do it myself.
I touch my tongue to the cut and she gasps, already moaning. I run my tongue around the wound a few times, pressing just enough to draw more blood, then lap at it. I hear her whimpering, her hands busy — caressing, digging into my flesh, forming crescents.
The sounds she makes drive me to the edge. My left hand grabs a strong hold of her right cheek. I want to hear that sound again. Warmth pools from my stomach to my feet. Everything feels wet and warm. Cathy's moans grow louder and her body jerks toward me, hard enough to knock someone down.
My lower back hits the edge of the tub, but I don't let go. Neither does she.
Her hands both pull and push as she cries out, begging. My mouth feels itchy. My throat, dry.
Just a little more. Just a little more…
Just—
Her hold on me loosens. She sighs, going limp with exhaustion.
Hmm. What a beautiful sight.
She looks to be asleep. Peaceful. Beautiful. I've never tasted anything this good before.
Your master's here.
Footsteps approach the door. It opens to reveal my owner.
"Maddona!! What have you done?!"