Free to Feel [Temporarily (??) Discontinued]

Chapter 1

"178MPB, raise your hand."

Heather's head perked up as soon as he heard that command that pulled him out of his thoughts. He watched as his fellow slave raised his hand obediently, scars crossing it in many places. A worker of the hospital walked towards the 178MPB and uncuffed him from the wall, then put shackles on the hands of the slave and roughly shoved him towards the reception area. Heather sighed and closed his eyes, leaning against the wall in exhaustion.

He'd been sitting here for at least an hour, waiting for Mistress to come and get him. The cuff on his ankle was a little bit too tight, but nothing he wasn't used to. Even though his owner had paid for the hospital to treat him well, they still thought of him as a dangerous slave that would try to escape as soon as he could and thus restrained him almost always.

Whatever. It wasn't like he would have to stay here for longer.

The guy shivered in anticipation. Three long weeks of treatment were finally over. His jaw, which he had broken when biting through a rubber gag to call his Mistress, was healed. Now the bone had regrown completely, and he didn't have any problems with speaking or eating or biting any longer. And now it was time for him to go home to his owner and his daughter, Raven...

He ran his fingers through his naturally purple hair, looking around at the other patients. It wasn't hard for an experienced slave like himself to distinguish different classes of unfree people. There were Sex Slaves, the most beautiful, sassy, rude and unscarred. Being the top class, their ego was extremely high, which resulted in them always being stuck-up. But well, they couldn't be blamed, after all, they were trained to be narcissistic. Heather had been one of them as well, and he... He didn't actually hate them, but he took some pleasure in seeing their humiliation.

Then there were Working Slaves, or Free Labour. They had much more chains holding down their muscular arms and legs. Pets were all collared, a few of them napping on the cold floor. A couple of Maids and Servants in their casual grey clothing were quietly talking to each other, shutting up whenever a free person walked past them. Punching Bags, all bearing too much scars to count, rubbed their fresh injuries.

The guy with purple hair glanced at the group of the most silent, the most scrawny slaves and felt pity sting him. Peculiar Slaves had it the worst, some frees didn't even think of them as humans. He was actually a Peculiar Slave as well, almost on the very bottom of the social ladder, but it was just his luck that Mistress actually treated him as a Pet. He chuckled and brushed his fingertips against the beloved leather collar around his neck and felt the cold metal of a name tag. His name was engraved on it, and he shivered more in pleasure.

Heather. Given after the unusual colour of his hair - dark purple with spots of white and pink - that name was with him through the worst of times, and now he was about to hear it once again when Mistress came to get him. He was going home. Finally.

"72 MPS, raise your hand."

The heart of the guy skipped a beat as he raised his hand at the sound of the command. A woman in a white lab coat approached him, her face twisted in disgust. He was well aware it was because he was a Peculiar Slave and he was also aware that he was supposed to feel sorry, but right now he couldn't care less. He was finally going home! He finally had a place he could call his home!

"You better not stink." The woman hissed under her breath as she bent down and unlocked the cuff on his ankle. Heather slowly stood up and folded his hands behind his back obediently, bowing his head at the free. Bubbles of excitement were tickling his stomach and he had to stop himself from giggling.