| Recueil | Smut |
|---|---|
| Livre | My (fancy) life as a slave |
| Type | Chapitre |
| État | Brouillon |
Double dare
"That'll be three hundred gold."
Would it kill him to say 'please'? Sure, I'm just a slave, but my mistress is barely ten feet away.
I glance at her over my shoulder. She seems very worried today. She's looking out the window, as if she was expecting an ambush or something.
It's been weeks since our little public stunt with Ashby, and we've done nothing in public in the meantime to justify this paranoia. I want to ask her but I know better. If she wanted to share her concerns she would have.
"Three. Hundred. Gold."
Right, I almost forgot. I search the purse Madam Kalista entrusted me with, and pay the rude artisan. I lift the heavy machinery we just bought, and turn to exit.
"Madam? We can leave now."
She snaps back to reality.
"Oh shit! Sorry, Nasué. Give me that, it's too heavy for you to carry."
She relieves me of the contraption. I don't really get what's it for, but from what I understand it's a kind of device to observe small things. Like a magnifying glass, but to see the tiniest things ever.