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gagged when we return home as a reminder.”
    “I can think of something else that might remind him of his place,” Torenze suggests, his tone lewd and lustful. “After all, that was a pretty lenient punishment. Slaves like this are good for one thing, and that’s certainly not giving unwanted business advice to free people.”
    There is silence, and for a moment, I’m terrified that he’s going to let him do it. Use me, fuck me, put me in my place. I guess it makes sense, it would drive the point home, and while my master has promised not to lend me out, this would be different, this would be punishment, this would be done to hurt and humiliate me even more than I’ve already been hurt and humiliated. I don’t know if I can handle it, and if I wasn’t on my knees already, I’d be dropping to them. I know better than to speak, so I settle for trembling instead.
    “Get dressed, Sascha.” My master’s words are cold.
    I scramble to get up and dress myself, biting hard on my lower lip to keep from crying out as the fabric slides across my bruised, burning skin.
    “As I’ve posited before, it’s not the severity of the punishment that matters, it’s the fit,” my master explains. “Obviously he’s been severely beaten and worse in the past. Obviously it did nothing. Careful timing, humiliation, predictability—that’s how to train them. I am not a savage, Oliver, and neither are you. It’s entirely uncouth to drag a slave around gagged and beaten like a common brothel whore; surely you don’t display your personal slaves like that?”
    I glance up, pleased to see Torenze’s face turning nearly as red as mine.
    “Of course not,” Torenze mutters. “I just… I guess you’re right.”
    “Then we shall return to the party.” My master smiles at the man, but it’s an empty smile.
    Torenze leaves, leaving me alone with my master for a minute. He turns to me, and I open my mouth to speak.
    “Not a fucking word, Sascha,” he hisses, his jaw set.
    I nod, grateful that he is too proud to be seen with a gagged slave. Not that I don’t deserve it. I’ll stay silent to try to repay him, to try to show him how grateful I am. I’ll stay silent because I do deserve it; I deserve to be gagged for speaking out of turn, and I deserve far worse for ever letting myself think that I was anything but a slave. He turns away from me in disgust, and it’s all I can do not to start sobbing again, but I’ve promised to be silent. I follow him into the party in disgrace, trying not to show how much pain I’m in. The other guests might notice me, or they might not. Right now, the only thing that is real is the shattering of my false contentment.

Chapter 5
Secrets
    I can’t tell whether to be furious at Sascha or worried that Torenze is going cause trouble for me. I try to remind myself that Sascha didn’t know, that he had no idea how much risk he was exposing both of us to, but it makes me feel no better. We leave the party early; not too early that it is noticeable or in poor taste, but I want out of there as quickly as possible after Sascha’s outburst. I come home and retreat immediately into my office, intent on making sure there are no loose ends or dangerous lines of communication left open. I slam the door, letting Sascha go treat his wounds or whatever he wants. I’m too angry to deal with him.
    But he knocks on my door, anyway. I walk across the room, throwing open the door open.
    “What?” I demand, feeling guilty when he cowers away.
    “D-did you want the gag?” he asks. “Master?” he adds at the end, his voice small.
    “Go to bed, Sascha. Take an ice pack if you need it.” I slam the door. I can’t comfort him, but I don’t want to speak to him either. He could have destroyed everything, endangered both of us, but there was no way for him to know that.
    I beat and humiliated him because I’m too paranoid to let him in on my secret.
    When I finally go to bed, he’s not there. It’s the