"Yes Master, thank you."<br/><br/>The Catkin girl rose, and padded nearly silently out of the kitchen, glad to be out of it for the moment, not wanting to be both what felt like the center of attention and an unwelcome guest. One of the two lizard servants was easy to find, and while it was clear they too hadn't decided how to feel about the new pleasure slave, she was shown to her room with quiet, competent efficiency, and left in the guest bedroom.<br/><br/>It was a beautiful room, spacious, artfully decorated by Marion's hand - meant for upper class guests to feel comfortable and welcome for long visits. For just her, it was almost decadently nice, and Siena ducked into the ensuite bathroom for a swift shower, not wanting to taint the staggeringly expensive sheets with the dirt and sweat and scent of fear from the slave market.<br/><br/>Still damp as she stepped out, she slid into bed, and exhaustion dragged her to sleep for a few hours before she woke up again, eyes widening in the vast darkness of the room. It had been the first time she had been alone in...ever. In the slave market, there were always other slaves - weeping, begging - and guards. The sounds of some of them being raped. Before that, it had been her father's cart, the sound of his soft breathing as he slept, the occasional cough of age catching up with him, the noise and smell of their horses, the ambient energy of a camp that never truly went to sleep.<br/><br/>And now she was just...here. Alone, in a dark, empty space larger than any she had ever lived in. Her heart began to speed, and her mind to spin faster. She was a slave, a pleasure girl, bought by a man who was wealthier than she could ever think of being - had bought her for more money than she had ever seen.<br/><br/>And his wife...<br/><br/><em>She hates me. She doesn't want me here. I'm a sex slave for her husband, and a rival to her. And she...seems to run the household. Will run my life, when he doesn't want me. Can invent a thousand petty ways to make my life miserable. She wouldn't do that, would she? Why not? Could you, if you had to see the girl your husband was with...<br/><br/>I didn't want this. I didn't ask for this. I'd be a good girl, a good slave, but she doesn't want me. I'm alone here. I'll be alone for the rest of my life...</em><br/><br/>Panic overwhelmed her. She wanted to be somewhere small, somewhere safe. She bundled up the blanket from the top of the bed, and dragged it to a corner, curling up tightly, wrapped within it, and softly started to cry.