Mistress Mine

10- Slave's POV

When I saw them so happy and cozy bundled up together on a couch, I had come to the conclusion that I'd be serving two Masters now. Because even though it was my Mistress who truly owned me, he was the lover she chose, and that just makes him automatically a person I needed to please if I wanted to keep her pleased.

It becomes clear, given the events why she was so angry and irritated throughout the past days. Why the diet she had refused to break back home had become a mess of bundles. She was dealing with a breakup, or at least, a big fight that had lead to a separation.

One that was so serious, obviously, because it didn't need a bouquet of flowers or a fancy chocolate box. And only took a few hours to sort out.

Oliver was the type of boyfriend who slept in my Mistress's bed, ate her food, brought a bag of laundry to be done, but still refused to move in. Or at least, bring the rest of his stuff to her house.

They had a dynamic of speaking very softly to each other, and kissing soundlessly whenever they happened in the same room together, which was always.

I went for my second grocery shopping only a day after he appeared, because I, for once, had an idea of what she wanted her meal to be, whereas she refused to give pointers before.

I was walking on eggshells when it came to her meals and only realized the difference when I finally had a map to tell me where I was going.

The morning after he showed up, I walked on them in the kitchen. It was too early, and something told me that they haven't had much sleep at all.

She was sitting on the kitchen counter, and they both were doing their morning routine of keeping their mouths locked together when I heard her ask. "You never told me some thing."

Another kiss, and he asked her what she wanted to know.

"How you found the address. No one knows about it."

"I developed a sixth sense." He answered, "I've told you before I'd be a good detective."

"Oli," Giggling, she swatted the arm he was holding her with away, "I'm serious."

I was contemplating whether or not I should make my presence known, for maybe they wanted their time together without interruption, when he answered her.

"The box of wares, remember that?"

She sighed, looking away.

"Hey," His hands moved to cup her cheek, "I don't regret it. You shouldn't, either."

"The last few days were hell."

Yeah, ask me about it. I thought.

"They were for me, too." He told her. "But I'm glad they happened. I'm happy that I've uncovered one more mystery about you."

All that whispered, romantic talk. I've heard it before, but only in soupy movies and TV shows. However, my Mistress seemed to be enjoying it, because she bowed to peck his lips.

"It was really as simple as calling the delivery company," He told her.

"And they just gave it to you, just like that?"

"Just like that."

She giggled again. But he had more to say.

"Although," I could almost hear the smile in his voice, which couldn't be possible, but I did. "I might've opened it."

That he opened the package left me a bit confused, I still wasn't aware of how involved they both were. Enough to open each other's deliveries?

My owner was confused, though, probably from all the kiss they've been doing, "The box?"

"What else," He replied, "And guess what I found."

"I don't want to guess." She said, "I don't care either way, you can throw it away."

"I'm going to tell you what I found, though, I insist," There was a light pause before he said, "Toys."

Before she could counter, he added, "A staggering amount of sex toys. You said they didn't send cloths with him, they apparently wanted to atone for that with vibrators and plugs and other things that I couldn't possibly know what they're for."

She didn't answer for a moments, seemed to be as speechless as I was astonished. And not because I was so surprised about the novelty of it, I probably could name each and every implement that could possibly be in that box. It wasn't as if the concept was new. It was simply that the Cruz's didn't seem like the sort of family who'd send items of that sort.

From the weeks I've spent in the family house, I had the impression that Mrs Cruz was a traditional woman who liked following rules and detested being the centre of gossip. It was part of the reason she and her husband acquired me for her daughter. Because she didn't want my Mistress to be the only one in their social circles without a companion.

So for her to send something so controversial when she rarely uttered a swear world was out of character, to say the least.

Oliver, the boyfriend, wasn't done talking, however, "That's not all there was."

She pushed him away to jump off the counter, "What could possibly be worse?"

"I don't know if it could be called be worse, really, it's all under the same category." He replied, "There were implements of punishment. You know the ones they use in public Capitiols."

Capitols, the word all slaves detested and feared all at once. The place where convicted slaves ended up if they sinned badly enough or broke a law grave enough, and didn't have owners who cared enough to bail them out. It was hell on earth, and also a public domain where anyone could watch as punishments were dished out.

My mistress grimaced in distaste, something that I admit brought me peace. Even when I knew that she wasn't a sadist who enjoyed pain, that open revolution on her face still meant a lot.

The boyfriend smiled, as if amused by her reaction, but quickly assured her, "Nothing as outlandish, though. Just a few implements of impact punishment that are on a much smaller scale."