Bore Snore Whore
@kltsvne
Tomorrow was a grand party, and masters everywhere were titillated about the possibilities. Even slaves weren’t immune—who was going with whom, whose fittings were when for what—Crow might have participated, had he been rented by a man of standing, or who possessed exceptional taste. Instead, he had been reserved by a man he’d never met before and found a bore on meeting. He’d gone to a fitting. He’d argued with the seamstress until the master told him to shut up.
What a joke, was all he thought. His outfit was tasteless and poorly-made, his date too dull to see he was being fleeced.
At least he was only wearing his slave briefs, for now.
So when he was brought to the estate of a new master, he was already out of sorts.
The guard—the same no-necked, pop-eyed goldfish who’d taken him to Master Dimarco—rapped on the door.
Crow was so glad to soon be rid of him. He wondered who had taken up his calling card this time.