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 No one said it was easy..(X), Meerclar/Elora
♔Mercer Amsterdam
 Posted: Oct 19 2017, 04:05 PM
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Currently looking for musically talented slaves (or those to turn into slaves) to exploit their talent for profit.

322
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Single
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Elora Sol
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N/A
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Heterosexual
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Jinx is Offline

N/A


True to his word Mercer had woken Elora up “earlier” than she probably would’ve prefered. In fact it might have been earlier than she’d ever seen him do anything other than stumble home dreadfully intoxicated. Despite what she might have thought when he jingled the open door of her cage (he’d apparently not bothered locking it last night--or he hadn’t slept--) he was not just trying to torment her by hauling her sore assed body out of bed before noon. He’d even cooked breakfast the way he used to and had even made some for her which was something he hadn’t done since nearly drowning her in the bathtub of his old apartment. Progress was indeed measured glacially for a slave of Mercer Amsterdam.

Why he’d gotten her up proved to be the arrival of several musicians… a morning packed with them before the bar opened in the early afternoon. They were a varied group, Eridani singers and human hopefuls each with their own unique sound and set of dreams, and Elora knew exactly how Mercer planned to replay what had happened to him on them to exploit them for their talent. Where most people might have taken the lesson from his professional misfortunes to take a good look in the mirror and work on their shortcomings, Mercer had taken an entirely different and more primal take on that and his more recent professional setbacks; if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. Unfortunately all of these acts who had paraded through the bar this morning had one thing distinctly in common, however well they played it didn’t seem to be up to whatever standard Mercer had set.

“Oh for the love of--- stop.. Just stop, please, I think my ears might start bleeding if I have to hear one more note enough!” He sat at a table in the approximate middle of the floor facing the stage where the band that was currently playing broke off one by one with a kind of discordant trailing off. He reached out grasping the bottle of whiskey set out for him, rather than the glass, and tilted it back to take in some of the burning, smoky flavor. Pulling it down, pausing to wipe a single drip that appeared in the corner of his mouth he shook his head. “Let me ask you is there something wrong with that?”

As he asked that he pointed at the instrument a young seeming woman was holding. She glanced uncertainly at her companions then down at what she held in her hands and shook her head slowly.

“No? Come here then,” Mercer gestured her over to where he was sitting and with a good deal of reluctance the girl inched down off the stage and approached the somewhat inebriated owner of the bar and at a following gesture of impatience extended the small device that resembled a flute of sorts. It was fancier of course. Instruments like this were often keyed into holographic displays so that the computer formulated an image that moved and changed with the music itself. It was playing music on a whole new level almost marrying the mathematical crossover between music and programing.

Mercer’s long strong fingers turned it over in his hands examining it closely and then lifted it quite suddenly to his lips. Sound pure and strong sounded out, and presently a fluctuating image appeared; it lacked shape and form at first just random bursts of light and color. Presently though that shifted as he started striking up a tune. Elora would never have seen him play this instrument before, the truth was he never had, but those few experimental moments were all he needed to learn the basics of almost anything except the most complex of devices designed to make it. Within five minutes a holographic display began to take shape, a doe dashing through a wood, leaping over streams with wild free abandon. The tune seemed to carry the joy and energy and vitality of the creature making it feel almost as alive as if you could touch it. Then quite abruptly he stopped and just stared at the woman for a few minutes. Then with a snarl he hurled the device across the room to break against the wall.

“Then obviously the problem is with you isn’t it? Get out of my bar. And do yourself a favor look for another line of work!”

(738)

@Elora Sol
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Elora Sol
 Posted: Oct 19 2017, 07:45 PM
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Elora woke with a groan, followed by another, sharper groan when she tried to move and found her muscles tight with tension from the belting the night before. She opened her mouth, to complain about the early hour, and the ache in her body, but remembered in time that it wasn’t worth it, and quickly shut her mouth again. It still took her a few minutes to be able to crawl out of the cage and stand on shaky legs. She was surprised, and very pleased to see two places set at the breakfast table, and breakfast cooked and ready. It smelled delicious and she was extra glad that she had bitten off her complaints. ‘Morning, Master,’ she yawned. ‘That smells nice. Did you sleep at all?’ It seemed more likely that he hadn’t, than that he had slept a paltry number of hours and risen early enough to cook. She glanced at his clothes, checking if they were the same ones from the night before. She took herself to the bathroom, returning a short while later feeling far more with it, leaning in to kiss Mercer’s cheek in a way that seemed to be becoming a habit. It was an easy gesture. Submissive, respectful, yet demonstrating affection and subtly reminding him that she was a person as well as a slave. Or that was the idea anyway.

Seeing as he had cooked, and he clearly didn’t need or want her input and opinion on the musicians who turned up a short while later to audition, she wondered why he had woken her at all. Although she didn’t ask or complain. She settled into a quiet corner of the bar, where she could lean on the counter and not have to sit, trying to do a little bit of her studies, a little bit of prep for the bar when it opened in a few hours, and listening to Mercer’s less than constructive criticism. She was very, very glad that his disgust wasn’t aimed at her, and at the same time all too aware that the musicians would be gone soon and she would be the one left with his temper. She thought of asking him to go a little easy on them, or at least pretend to be nice, but as he had pointed out the night before, he wasn’t nice, and there wasn’t much point in having him pretend he was. Also Elora wasn’t that invested in the fragile feelings of these musicians. She had her own problems to worry about. If anything, it was possibly better for them to be rejected by Mercer and not get caught up in his spiderweb of planning.

Elora knew better than to speak up when he singled out one of the band members to berate individually. She hadn’t heard anything wrong with the instrument, or the music. It hadn’t been great, but it hadn’t been that much worse than any other act that had come through today. And then Mercer started playing… and the instrument seemed to come to life in his hands. She found herself thinking of his genius, almost awed by it, and sad that he was doomed by his awful choices and personality, to rot away in this dump. Her sympathy was short lived though, and she jumped a mile as he threw the instrument savagely enough to break it. ‘Master!’ she protested far too late. It hadn’t even been his to break. And how were they supposed to pay to replace that? All the money was tied up in the bar. All they had was what they had taken last night… Wincing inwardly and checking to see that Mercer wasn’t watching she flicked open the terminal wired into the bar, checking what the take had been the night before, and grabbing an empty credstick from under the counter.

The band were acting understandably upset, yelling at Mercer about how dare he, and what gave him the right. Elora heard the words, “washed up has-been" and almost catapulted forward, ‘Enough! That’s enough! You all need to leave now. Master Amsterdam has made it clear you will not be hired. Shall I go and fetch the bouncer or can I show you out?’ She grabbed the elbow of the girl whose instrument had been broken, using the cover of her body to push the credstick (now no longer empty) into the girl’s hand. ‘Go. Now. Please just go,’ she implored softly, but not so softly that Mercer might think she was whispering anything conspiratorial.

If she’d been hoping for a speedy exit, she was disappointed, as it took them a few minutes to pack up their instruments, muttering and griping all the time, casting dark looks at Mercer. Elora hovered nervously nearby, just wanting them gone, and worried about what might happen when they did. Hopefully there would be another band coming who was actually good.

(817)
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♔Mercer Amsterdam
 Posted: Oct 23 2017, 03:52 PM
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Currently looking for musically talented slaves (or those to turn into slaves) to exploit their talent for profit.

322
Posts
7070
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27
Human
 - Age -
- Species -
Single
- relationship status -
Musician
- occupation -
Elora Sol
- slaves -
N/A
- master -
Heterosexual
- orientation -

Jinx is Offline

N/A


Had that question been put to Mercer in a way that compelled him to answer honestly he probably would’ve responded that Elora was there because he wanted her there; simply put the slave went where the master said. But she was also there because he liked having her around, she provided distraction and a kind of background energy that helped him avoid some of the frequency of his dark spirals of mood that ended with him staring blankly at the window for a week barely moving. She’d witnessed that fall over him once of course, but she was something of a moderating influence on his temperament either by absorbing some of the blow back or just by giving him a gentle push when he was on an energetic lift where his lack of judgement might lead to unfortunate decisions; neither of those things meant she might not suffer for playing that part, but he recognized that she was a factor in his fragile self control.

It was a self control that had obviously gotten away from him now, but where a normal person might have been embarrassed by their outburst and apologized to the band (or given them credits as Elora was attempting to do without being noticed) Mercer was the type to double down.

“Has been is it?” his eyes narrowed and glittered dangerously, but it was not physical violence they had to fear. Mercer was not the kind for bar fights...smacking about slaves who annoyed him sure, but his valued his hands far too much to put them at risk throwing punches. “What, did you think my advice to her was exclusive? That somehow in this collection of no talent posers you were the one shining star? You have as much chance of making it as a musician as a holo-porn star: ‘No Bulge’.’ Don’t think I can’t tell, what is it a sock?”

Mercer gave an ugly sneer. He knew all of those tricks of course, they were something of a bad secret on the touring circuit. The women wore tops strategically designed to lift and enhance cleavage and the men wore padded jockstraps and too tight pants; he’d always embraced that kind of display himself, but fortunately he had little to be ashamed of in that department. His eyes flashed for a moment as Elora interposed herself in the situation but it wasn’t anger directed deliberately at her just yet. Instead he just agreed with her in a particularly unhelpful way.

“Yes go! Like I already told you to. And try not to make anyone else’s ears bleed while you’re at it. Tone deaf, lip sync jockeys! She can stay if she likes,” he pointed to the girl who had been the original subject of his ire, “we’re always hiring new waitresses, best to learn how to be productive.”

When the band was finally gone, with the credits he didn’t know she had given them, Mercer still hadn’t calmed down entirely. In fact he paced back and forth still muttering under his breath with one hand occasionally snapping up into the air gesticulating with the bubbling force of his irritation over the whole encounter. Words like ‘hacks,’ ‘bumbling incompetence,’ ‘ham-handed, fiddle fingered, caterwaulers,’ came from his lips with an increasing level of fervor. Rather than calming it seemed to build up his rage more.

“How dare they even show up here when they can even all stay in the same fucking key!”

Mercer, would’ve been a terrible music tutor.

(583)
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Elora Sol
 Posted: Oct 23 2017, 11:29 PM
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Mercer Amsterdam
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The band seemed eager to get into a slanging match with Mercer, eager to reclaim their good name and remind him that his was besmirched, but Elora and the girl she had slipped the credstick to, both seemed eager to separate the two parties before Mercer noticed that particular transaction, and between Elora’s judicious shooing, and the band girl practically dragging their lead singer out the door, it barely progressed beyond a few shouted insults about Mercer’s wardrobe, age and career before the door was thankfully shut in their faces. Elora leaned against it for a moment, shaking slightly and trying to compose herself. She didn’t really want to go back to Mercer, not just because she was afraid of him in a mood (she was), or because it was up to her to smooth things over, but because she was still trying to work out if she should tell him about the credits or not. Obviously she did have to tell him. It was his money, and she wasn’t going to lie to him. But did she really have to tell him now? Right now? Surely she would be far better off waiting until he had calmed down a little. That wasn’t deceit, was it?

She returned cautiously, observed Mercer from a distance, as he paced and ranted, wondering how to diffuse this situation. She needed an instruction manual for Mercer, but unfortunately he didn’t come with one. It wasn’t like she could reassure him that they hadn’t been that bad when clearly they had. She could hardly stay cowering on the edge of the room in silence though, waiting for him to explode. She shuffled over towards him, trying to get close without getting in the way, hands twisting nervously in front of her. She was still skittish and on edge after her punishment the evening before. And deep down she suspected she shouldn’t have given those credits away. No matter how she presented that to Mercer, it wasn’t going to please him. ‘I suppose they didn’t know how bad they were. Not everyone is as naturally talented as you are, Master. You’re probably going to have to listen to a lot of bad musicians until you find the ones you’re looking for.’

(375)
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♔Mercer Amsterdam
 Posted: Oct 24 2017, 02:12 PM
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Currently looking for musically talented slaves (or those to turn into slaves) to exploit their talent for profit.

322
Posts
7070
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27
Human
 - Age -
- Species -
Single
- relationship status -
Musician
- occupation -
Elora Sol
- slaves -
N/A
- master -
Heterosexual
- orientation -

Jinx is Offline

N/A


"Then the least I can do is be honest with them, something obviously no one else has done!" He snapped into the ether by way of reply. He stood with his hands on his hips and glanced over in her direction, but it was soon apparent that he was staring off towards the door where the band had left and presently he took a step or two that direction, "And I look fabulous you tasteless fucks!"

He fumed for a few more minutes wiping the corners of his mouth where inexplicably he found some spit from the vehemence of the confrontation. Self-control thy name is not Amsterdam. He frowned at it for a minute and snorted, black waves of irritation still rolling off of him he glanced at Elora finally and studied her for a good fifteen seconds or so before he spoke.

"Use the com in the office. Cancel the last three auditions today, reschedule for Monday, then call back the second group on the list, tell them they're on for the next two nights. Then call the band from last night and tell them that they're hired for the weekend." It was a start at least. At least for the next four days they'd be covered and it was probably better that Mercer didn't try to sit through another audition at this exact moment, unless they were the avatar of music personified they'd likely just end up catching the backlash. "When the staff starts to show up let them in to finish the set up and join me upstairs. I have something to show you."

With that he turned and stomped up the stairs, the bottle of whiskey in one hand and another brief explosion of explicative language.

(290)
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Elora Sol
 Posted: Oct 25 2017, 05:27 AM
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Mercer Amsterdam
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Elora thought that they might have prefered him a little less honest and little more tactful. And definitely a lot less destructive. But she held her tongue on that matter. For all his dismissal of the band in question, he seemed to be dwelling extensively on their words to him, fuming and muttering and generally making Elora feel skittish and nervous. She decided to wait to tell him about the credits. It wasn’t a lie. It was just not the right time.

It would be a relief, to cancel the rest of the bands. She couldn’t imagine what listening to another disappointment might do to his mood, and even the good bands were likely to raise his ire, paying the price for their fellows the way Elora often paid for the sins of Mercer’s ex-managers. Wondering what he might have to show her, and whether something so vague could possibly be good, when following on the heels of such an outburst, she nodded and slipped off to do as she was bid. The bands she called to reschedule were understandably put out, and one tried to insist that they had all had to rearrange their schedules already just to be able to make today and couldn’t possibly cancel now. Elora gave the image on her comm a cold and unimpressed look. ‘Master Amsterdam is not in the mood to give a reasonable and impartial audition today. If today is the only day you can come in I’ll save you the time and tell you that you won’t be acceptable to him. If you want a chance at this job, I suggest you come back when he’s able to actually listen to you. But by all means come in today and give him someone else to yell at and throw out onto their asses.’ They gave in and let her book them in again in a few days. The rest of the calls went more smoothly, and then she cleaned up the remnants of broken instrument until the first of the staff began to arrive. She suddenly found herself wanting to stay and help them, rather than going to find Mercer. She had no idea what he might want to “show” her, but the bruised skin across her ass was making her whole body ache, and she just couldn’t imagine that in the mood he had been in that he would want her for anything pleasant. Still, he’d surprised her before, and not obeying wasn’t an option, so wincing with every step, she dragged herself up the stairs to their apartment and knocked on the door, ‘Master? You wanted me?’ With any luck he would have drunk enough to pass out and she could run the bar without him for the night.

(461)
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♔Mercer Amsterdam
 Posted: Oct 25 2017, 05:10 PM
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Currently looking for musically talented slaves (or those to turn into slaves) to exploit their talent for profit.

322
Posts
7070
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27
Human
 - Age -
- Species -
Single
- relationship status -
Musician
- occupation -
Elora Sol
- slaves -
N/A
- master -
Heterosexual
- orientation -

Jinx is Offline

N/A


Elora probably wasn't long in Mercer's likely recreational activity. The truth was he wasn't feeling terribly 'sociable' at the moment after that encounter and likely would only make a token appearance tonight downstairs. But for the moment at least he was still quite ambulatory and (for him) sober enough to be getting on with things. When she arrived he was standing up with that bottle in one hand staring down at something she couldn't see with quite a bit of intensity. He glanced over his shoulder and nodded to her.

"Strip," he said abruptly not turning around. Whatever he was looking at his body blocked her out and he didn't even turn around so had taken it as something of article of faith that it was her who'd walked in. Given she was the only person other than him who could open the door it was a fair assumption; and come to think of it if she'd brought someone up that might not have stopped him.

"Which one bitched the most?" He asked, not bothering to provide context to the question. He wasn't sure if it was the profession that attracted 'dramatic' types or if the profession turned them into dramatic types, but however that worked entertainment in generally did seem to have a stereotype that held true often enough to be maintained. But he did want to know which one of the bands complained the loudest about the rescheduling--- for one thing it might have indicated which one was more successful or had the highest opinion of themselves. Neither thing was a guarantee, but he was deliberately avoiding bands that had too high a sense of themselves. It was going to make the search long, and frustrating, but potentially very much worth it.

He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and then turned around slowly. He did still look annoyed, that kind of dark cloud she'd seen hover over him before. Any thoughts she might have had about him becoming less of who he was had obviously been misplaced. He was always going to ride this pendulum between obsessive lover and callus abuser with brief interludes of something at least resembling actual affection. Elora Sol, this is your life.

Draped over the bed were several color variations of a dress. It was pretty, with a kind of lace floral pattern to it and cut to be fairly revealing without being too bad. It was the kind of dress a young woman might wear out to a party at a nice club with her friends... with stolen booze. In fact, this one had worn that dress before, or at least one so much like it that it made no difference.

"I don't want you wearing the waitress uniforms anymore, so I got you something else. They arrived earlier."

(471)
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Elora Sol
 Posted: Oct 26 2017, 02:15 AM
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For all her certainty that giving the credits away to cover the cost of the broken instrument had been the right things to do, Elora was racked with guilt and indecision all the way up the stairs. At the time she had been anxious to smooth things over and get the band and Mercer as far from each other as she could. Also the reputation of the bar mattered to her, and if it got out that Mercer was going around smashing instruments and not even replacing them, it might not be long before nobody was going to come to audition and his whole plan would be down the drain. Now though, she knew she had to tell Mercer, and sooner was going to be better than later, but it was going to take a lot of courage to bring the topic up and admit to him what she’d done. She could logically argue that she’d had no choice, that she had had good reasons, but in the end she just had to hope that he didn’t consider it a betrayal. Should she bring it up now, or leave it? Perhaps she could just write it into the books as an expense, and when he noticed and brought it up, act as though she had assumed that of course he would want to pay to replace what he had broken. All she knew was that she wasn’t game to mention it yet, with his temper still bad, and her ass still bruised.

Whatever he wanted her for, it required her clothes off, which made her nervous. He’d been drinking, which made her more nervous. She pulled the dress she was wearing off and put it aside, watching his back nervously. She wasn’t wearing anything under, so once the dress was gone she was just in her shoes again. The dress didn’t work with a bra, and the thought of underwear pressing against her bruises had been too much to endure.

None of them were happy, Master. The next ones due complained the most. Maybe they were already on the way though. They’ve all agreed to come in another time though.

He turned to face her finally and she was glad she hadn’t confessed about the credits. His mood clearly wasn’t much improved. She gazed at the dresses on the bed, confused for a moment, until she recognised them. THE dress. The one she’d been wearing the night he’d enslaved her. The same, or very similar, and in a range of colours. It was impossible to tell if he was deliberately being an asshole, or if he was trying to be nice and just didn’t realise how cruel it was. Still, for whatever reason he had decided that he didn’t want her wearing the waitress uniform anymore, ad she could only be pleased about that. ‘I… thank you, Master. At least you already know it fits?’

(485)
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♔Mercer Amsterdam
 Posted: Oct 26 2017, 05:58 PM
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Currently looking for musically talented slaves (or those to turn into slaves) to exploit their talent for profit.

322
Posts
7070
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27
Human
 - Age -
- Species -
Single
- relationship status -
Musician
- occupation -
Elora Sol
- slaves -
N/A
- master -
Heterosexual
- orientation -

Jinx is Offline

N/A


She was probably right to be careful about how she revealed the knowledge about the credits. He wasn’t likely to consider it a betrayal persay given her motivations, but he might consider it stealing from him and given that he’d already accused her of that once when she tried to run away from him he wasn’t likely to cut her a whole lot of slack on it unless it was brought up perfectly.

“Yes that was part of it,” he admitted. He still didn’t smile like he normally did when he gave her stuff (as though it was somehow some great thing he was doing) but he nodded in agreement with the statement. The cold truth was that there was no way at all she could’ve explained to him why this was a mean thing to have done; for him it was a good memory and if she tried to explain why it was emotionally disturbing to her it would’ve led to the dangerous trap question: ‘but you’re happy to be my slave now, yes?’ for which there was no answer that didn’t end with her wearing the dress anyway. Either she was in which case she should be happy to wear that memory of when she became his slave or she wasn’t and invited a random rage. He turned to her and with his free hand brushed her hair back over her shoulder to expose her neck, “but if you’re wearing the waitress outfit eventually they’ll stop listening to you when I tell you to have them do stuff. It will say to them that you have the same job only you’re a slave and why should they do what you say; this will help set you apart and remind them you’re watching them on my behalf.”

He brushed his lips against the side of her neck and then surprised her a little as his teeth dug lightly into her lower neck along where it met the shoulder. Not quite hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough not to be what you’d call ‘pleasant’ either. He drew back a little bit then and took a look at her and then jerked his head in the direction of the dresses.

“Pick one and get ready,” he gave her a soft pat on her bruised up ass and walked over towards the window where he finished off the bottle of whiskey. “I’ll be down shortly to make sure the band gets started, but I’m not in the mood to deal with this shit tonight. If something comes up come get me, otherwise come back up here once everything is locked up--- bring a bottle and you can thank me for your present.”

(453)
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Elora Sol
 Posted: Oct 27 2017, 02:33 AM
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Elora was struggling with very conflicting feelings, and struggling more to keep them concealed from her capricious master. That dress. That damned dress had come back to haunt her again. It had become something so much more than an item of clothing, for both of them. It was a symbol of what she had become, and what had happened to her. How it had been done, and how powerless she was to do anything about it. The dress that emphasised and held the story of her enslavement (also in song form for your easy listening pleasure), was now available in a range of colours. One for every day of the week. A new uniform that only they would understand. Even more than her collar, it symbolised everything he had taken from her. Because every slave had a collar, but the dress was personal to Elora and Mercer and their story.

On the other hand… it didn’t reveal her breasts, ass or body the way the waitress uniforms did, and it wouldn’t turn practically invisible with the application of liquids. Those were definite pluses in it’s favour. Really, if it had been any other dress, she would have been over the moon with delight. Well. Maybe. She would very well picture a dress that would be worse than the waitresses uniforms. And more than just the revealing aspect of it, it was a symbol of a differnt sort. Of his ownership, sure, but also that she was more than just a waitress. She was HIS slave. Speaking with his voice, watching with his eyes, and someone to be listened to. She was, not a partner, but a part of the bar, in a way the staff were not. She was set apart from them. She was Mercers, and the dress, this dress, their dress, was a way of showing that. Surprisingly, she found she could live with that. She’d found that about a great many things.

She tilted her head for him, expecting a kiss, and mewled with soft surprise as he bit her. Hard enough to leave a mark, she was sure. She didn’t pull away, although it hurt, just submitted to him biting her. To her surprise, her lower body tightened with arousal. Was she really that abused that him biting her turned her on? Or was it even worse, and she was turned on by the sense of his ownership over her? She bit her lip and resolved not to let him know about that little turn of events. Better to ignore it, or to chalk it up to his hands on her body, and the warmth of his breath on her neck. Yes. That was it.

His mood after the scene downstairs was still touch and go, and he seemed more melancholy than he had for a while. She knew he had pinned a lot on finding a band for his plan, and apparently was taking the bad auditions worse than she’d expected. It wasn’t a good sign if he “wasn’t up for this shit” on the very second night of the bar being open. She wondered if he was in for a few days staring out the window again. Or drinking himself into a stupor. The latter seemed likely as he finished the bottle of spirits he held. But she found she couldn’t get too upset about Mercer’s mood, because it gave the unexpected bonus of him leaving the bar to her to run for the night. She couldn’t help but feel a little thrill of excitement. It was trust in her. And she wasn’t about to ruin that. She couldn’t even get upset about the thought of thanking her for her present, or the way he’d patted her right across her bruises. He might be having a shitty night, but hers was looking up. A new dress, and for once it was something she would have actually (and had actually) been willing to wear in public before being enslaved. And now she was being given the bar to manage for the night. Almost eagerly she slipped out of her current dress and found underwear (she wasn’t going to go without while working), and chose a dress that was a deep, royal blue, the colour of evening sky. She gave him a little twirl and a genuine smile, ‘Thank you, Master. I’ll handle everything so you don’t have to worry about it. And I’ll thank you properly tonight.’ Or not, if he’d passed out by then. ‘If you don’t need anything else right now, I’ll go and make sure everything is ready downstairs?

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♔Mercer Amsterdam
 Posted: Oct 27 2017, 11:50 PM
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Mercer hadn’t really considered that he was leaving her charge; though things had been moving in that direction even with the hic up that had nearly resulted in her drowning. While he might have had a great deal of trouble in taking advice or giving free reign to someone else he apparently had no such reservations about doing so from a slave (to a point.) Perhaps it was just that he was something of an insecure person in a lot of ways, and his volatile emotions combined with that tender ego could not take the idea of being threatened--- in a way that someone who literally owned simply couldn’t do. While it wasn’t exactly a flattering explanation it may well have been a fortunate one from the point of view that Elora was working from and did result in him being perfectly happy to let her just be on about the day to day workings of the bar (even if the manager title was something that would likely be a loooong time coming now.)

“Yes, that’s fine,” he said as he watched her smooth the dress out over her curves and put herself on display for him. She seemed to be doing that more and more and part of him wondered if that was related to her confession of love, acceptance of her role as his slave, or just because she knew he wanted her to and doing what he wanted was a way to avoid a beating-- hell it might even have been a combination of all three. If someone had told him years ago that he would own a slave, much less enjoy humiliating and beating one he’d have called them crazy, but there was something corrosively addictive about the whole thing he had to admit. Simply the knowledge that you could made you wonder what it would be like and after that it was just a matter of time before you did, and Mercer had never been great at impulse control. “That color looks ravishing on you Sweetness.”

“I am almost quite overwhelmed,” having told her that it was fine if she left he turned his head slightly to one side and tapped his cheek an obvious sign that he wanted a kiss before she departed. If it seemed an odd gesture it was at least a more or less benign one (even if he did slide his hand along her thigh and the tattoo it covered until his fingers caught in the curve of her hip like a lustful promise.

The words of the confrontation had stung him. Wounded him in fact rather deeply and had plunged him into a dark mood, but it wasn’t the full on depression of his past it was the anger that often resulted in his violence towards her as well as sparking periods of manic creativity inside him. She was well justified in presuming that he was about to go on a bender but in actuality he planned to spend the evening in the soundproof room that he eventually planned on turning into a small studio once he found all the right cheap second hand equipment to get him started. Even if he couldn’t release his own songs he could restore and shore up parts of his own self image by doing what he did to as well as almost anyone ever had.

He offered Elora a brief little smile and set down the now empty bottle on the small table freeing up his other hand to run a couple of his ringed fingers down the line of her jaw if she complied with his earlier instruction, and then nodded to her in a final approval.

“When the band shows up just let them into the old office and have one of the girls get them some drinks until the crowd gets big enough to warrant letting them on stage. No point in letting them tired out before there’s anyone there to hear them, eh?”

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 Posted: Oct 28 2017, 06:41 AM
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His praise actually pleased her, and she glanced down at the dress, glad she’d chosen this colour, ‘Thank you, Master. You chose lovely colours.’ It was a careful dance, always, accepting his compliments and thanking him in a way that was flattering to him without him taking it as patronising.

Obedient, especially when he was being so surprisingly reasonable and yet dangerously capable of sliding into a rage, she went on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, his stubble harsh against her lips. His hand ran up under her dress, groping and grasping, a little prelude to what was surely in the very near future for her. She forced him a little smile, stepping back slightly, more ending the kiss than pulling away, ‘You should take a break then, Master. You’ve worked so hard, getting the bar ready. You deserve a night off.

She nodded to him, sure that even if he didn’t come down at all, she would be able to get the band onto the stage. She didn’t say that, of course. She didn’t want Mercer to think that she thought she didn’t need him. Neither his mood or her bruised ass could take that right now.

She almost skipped down the stairs despite the pain, pausing at the bottom to compose herself and stride into the bar looking in control and like the manager she very much wanted to be. The bar staff had proven themselves last night to be capable enough, and she wasn’t about to ruin this by becoming some sort of monster the second she had an ounce of power. ‘Master Amsterdam isn’t feeling very well,’ she announced. ‘He may or may not be down later. You can come to me with any questions or anything you need. Is the band here yet?

All those months working in the bar, all the hours of studying since she’d become Mercer’s slave, all the preparation, she knew this bar inside and out, and it was almost too easy to get the night rolling. Not having Mercer right there, the threat of him looming over her, made an amazing difference, and she felt like a weight was lifted from her shoulders. This was the first time since she’d become a slave that she was in the company of other people, without him there as well.

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♔Mercer Amsterdam
 Posted: Oct 29 2017, 01:06 PM
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Currently looking for musically talented slaves (or those to turn into slaves) to exploit their talent for profit.

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True to his earlier statements Mercer did indeed put in a token appearance downstairs about an hour later. Mostly he needed a fresh bottle, but he also checked in on the band and made sure their equipment was all spliced into the bar’s hopelessly outdated sound equipment; for someone without any appreciably marketable skills besides his musical talents and a smattering of work experience as a chef he showed a remarkable ability to handle that particular activity. Then however he was back off upstairs with only the most cursory glance into the main room of the bar.

All of this was secondary (at best) to him. It was just a sideshow for him to get attract what he needed and when the mood was on him to write new material he couldn’t even be bothered to pretend to care. So once back up in the apartment he shut himself up in that small ‘studio’ with several of his instruments and began to play for hours and hours composing arrangements, breaking them down, throwing them out and starting all over again. It poured out of him in seemingly endless waves the powerful emotions of the evening being used as he’d always used them, for pure creation.

In the end he had the bones of three new songs, and a few hooks that would probably turn into half a dozen more after another night or two like this. These were the moments when Mercer felt ‘free’ of much of his angst, bitterness, and the swirling rage of his various problems. It left him energized, crackling with an almost electric excitement until he couldn’t really sit still, and it came as something of a shock to him how much time had passed and the fact that he’d somewhere in the middle of all that done some serious damage on the bottle he’d brought in here with him.

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Elora Sol
 Posted: Oct 31 2017, 08:19 PM
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When Mercer came downstairs he would find the band resting comfortably in the old office, drinking beers like he’d asked. Elora, feeling remarkably pleased with how the evening was going, and more relaxed than she had been in a while, shot Mercer a bright smile across the bar, but returned to the conversation she had been in, leaving Mercer to deal with the band.

All in all, Elora thought that the crown had averaged out about the same as the evening before. Not as many people earlier in the evening, but as the night wore on, and the music from the band floated out onto the street, more people came in, and she kept the staff working hard until the doors were finally closed behind the last patron, and the floors mopped, surfaces wiped and everything reset for the night before. ‘You all did a wonderful job tonight,’ she told them, feeling very generous and managerial. There had been a few incidents, of course. Word had apparent spread about the waitresses uniforms, and in total three of the girls had been drenched. One had had hysterics and Elora has sent her home early and suspected that she would resign in the morning. But the other two girls had seemed to welcome the extra tips, and the bouncer had kept things from getting out of hand.

Elora saw the last of the staff out, sighed and stretched, feeling the ache in her tired muscles and even more where Mercer had hit her. She still felt elated, high on the success of the evening, and even the thought of having to go upstairs and thank Mercer, rather than falling into her cage, wasn’t enough to dampen her spirits. She took a fresh bottle of spirits from the bar and made her way up the stairs, listening quietly at the apartment door before pushing it open and going in. ‘I’m back,’ she announced, but quietly, in case he was deep in concentration.

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♔Mercer Amsterdam
 Posted: Nov 1 2017, 06:21 PM
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Currently looking for musically talented slaves (or those to turn into slaves) to exploit their talent for profit.

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Jinx is Offline

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Whatever else Mercer might have been up to since he finished messing in the studio would be lost to the mysterious ether. What he was doing when Elora walked in was lounging on the bed with a handheld terminal in one hand and a bottle in the other; he was frowning at the screen in a kind of concentration that she wouldn’t have often seen on his face when he wasn’t playing music or molesting her. He did glanced up when she came in though and nodded in a somewhat absent fashion.

“How did it go tonight?” He asked, but the tone of his voice suggested the question was almost an afterthought (as though she needed much more reinforcement of how he thought of the bar in general.) He pulled in a great deal of air through his nose all at once and looked up from the small screen as he let it all out in a huff and tossed the terminal to the side. If she was quick, before it blanked out she might even see that he’d been researching ‘slave training’ techniques again. Either way she’d find Mercer’s dark eyes settling on her as he waited for an answer to his question just he same.

One of the few ‘frills’ things Mercer had popped for in the renovation had been a great deal of noise cancelation. Which meant that unless it was something along the lines of an explosion or amps turned up all the way very little in the way of noise transferred up from below or down. There were times when music being played downstairs could be felt when your feet were on the floor as a kind of vibration which was an odd experience when you couldn’t hear it otherwise. But Mercer had wanted it that way, mostly because he foresaw a day when he was hardly connected with the bar at all and spent most of his nights up here working with the new ‘talent’ while Elora and yet to be discovered trusted ‘employees’ ran the bar for him; he even acknowledged privately that the bar was likely to do better as a business under that arrangement. He was fully capable of turning the bar into a ‘place to go’ and attracting crowds with bands, gimmicks like the uniforms, and even his own bouts of hosting charm, but in the day to day business side of things when it came to handling the credits he was pretty rubbish.

He hadn’t stayed ‘dressed up’ after he’d gotten back up here. For some… insane reason he tended to remove clothing the longer he played music as though it somehow interfered with the flow of his creative energy. At present he was stripped to the waist only his tight pants and the jumble of various necklaces dangling around his chest currently being worn. His bare feet rested on the run that ran underneath the bed curling his toes absently into the thick fabric--- it was a particularly fluffy thing and probably would’ve been more comfortable to lay on than the inside of Elora’s cage. He perched himself on the edge of the bed and tilted his head.

“Any problems with the band or any of the customers?”

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Elora Sol
 Posted: Nov 4 2017, 02:11 AM
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Elora didn’t miss the total disinterest in Mercer’s voice as he asked about the bar. She’d known it was only a secondary part of his plan, merely a vehicle for his musical ambitions, but she’d thought that it would still hold some excitement for him. Apparently not. That didn’t upset her as much as it might have done. In fact, it only reinforced the idea that she would be given more power in that department. At least until she saw what he had been reading. The thought of Mercer getting tips on slave training made her twitchy for obvious reasons. As if she needed training to understand what her position was now. Her thoughts strayed back to the credstick she’d given away. She should tell him, she knew. The longer she left it, the more chance that he would accuse her of hiding it when she did tell him. She should tell him, get it over with, and hope… what? That he was in a good mood and would go easy on her? He clearly wasn’t. She’d wait, just until his mood was better. Besides, he’d just trusted her with the bar for the first time and she didn’t want to ruin that.

She tore her eyes away and assured him, ‘It all went fine. Mostly smoothly, good turnout, the band was fine,’ She wandered over closer to him, her eyes straying over the flickering tattoo on his torso. ‘I think Tricia might quit though. We’ll have to look into replacing her.

She was tired. So, so tired, and really she just wanted to sleep, but he’d told her he wanted to be thanked, and Elora wasn’t wanting to push him into “insisting” on it. So instead she leaned in to give him a light kiss, then lifted the bottle she’d chosen and asked, ‘Want a drink?’

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♔Mercer Amsterdam
 Posted: Nov 4 2017, 10:03 AM
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Currently looking for musically talented slaves (or those to turn into slaves) to exploit their talent for profit.

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Jinx is Offline

N/A


Mercer snorted at the question, of course he wanted a drink, and glanced around until he located an empty glass on a bedside table and claimed it. He would hold it up and watch her as she approached spending as much time studying her choice of spirits to bring up as he did her.

“Tricia…sounds familiar..” he said meditatively, his middle finger tapping on the side of the glass with a soft tinkling sound as he thought about it, “is she the one with the different sized tits?”

He finally caught her eyes venturing to his own tattoo. The choice of the color of the one he had made her get had been done deliberately to match of course. But where hers was a by now superfluous reminder of her servitude his was a somewhat ineffective reminder to think things through better. He’d gotten a cheap electronic job that should’ve been reprogrammable allowing him to display just about anything he wanted in accordance with his mood, but he’d gotten it in his neighborhood when he was still struggling to get ‘discovered’ and the general shoddy work meant that he’d have had to go somewhere else to get it fixed before he could do that. Still, it glowed that pretty purple and seemed to go well with his general enjoyment of drawing attention.

“So…. that might be two down in two nights,” his eyebrows drifted upwards on his forehead for a moment and he gave a bit of a sigh, “looks like you are going to be training a few more new waitresses after all. Pity slaves are so expensive… at least ones worth owning… or I guess we could go that route; still it’s just a matter of finding the right sort. It’ll take time, like finding the right musicians for me to use to bypass my old manager with.”

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Elora Sol
 Posted: Nov 4 2017, 08:18 PM
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He didn’t even bother answering her. Just snorted and held his cup out to her. She dutifully filled it. She’d chosen something nicely strong. Enough to give them both a buzz. She’d probably be more affected than Mercer, but she assumed he’d been drinking the whole time she’d been working. It was amazing how quickly she’d turned into some kind of alcoholic, living with him. She’d always enjoyed an odd drink, but never to excess. Now the idea of drinking herself into a stupor was quite appealing, and drinking enough to feel numb sounded like a good way to spend each day. Or at least it had. Now suddenly there was a glimmer of hope, in the bar that she might still one day be allowed to manage. He clearly didn’t care about it, didn’t want it for anything other than as a means to achieve what he wanted for his music. And why should he? He was a musician, not a business owner. Why wouldn’t he want a slave who was capable of seeing that the bar was kept running smoothly, looking after his interests there, leaving him time to pursue his own goals? That she might be given that task, while not exactly what she had always hoped and dreamed of, was enough to make her think that there might be more to life than find the bottom of the next bottle.

I… have no idea,’ she had to admit. ‘I didn’t measure her tits. She’s the brunette. Shorter than me.’ Still, if anyone would notice something like a girl’s breast size, it would be Mercer. ‘She didn’t enjoy having her “tits” on display when a customer upended on jug of water on her. She threw a beer in his face and stormed off, got her things and went home. If she doesn’t quit I… you might want to fire her.’ She poured her own drink and sat the bottle down on the bedside table, turning to sit on the bed next to Mercer, sighing with relief to get her weight off her feet at last. She drank quickly, letting the alcohol burn her throat on the way down. It was a habit she’d formed very quickly, trying to get as much alcohol into herself as she could in case Mercer changed his mind and took the bottle away.

I can train new waitresses, that’s no problem. The bigger problem will be hiring someone now word will have gotten around about your waitress uniforms. Still, at least that might cut down on number that walk off the job.’ She cast him an oblique look as he brought up the subject of more slaves, refilling both their glasses before answering. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. More slaves might take some of his attention off her, but at the same time, at the moment she sort of had his ear, it was just the two of them. If there were more slaves, how long until she screwed up and lost her place entirely? ‘I doubt slaves would be worth the cost, Master,’ she answered carefully, ‘The waitress pay isn’t that much, but once you have slaves you have to take feeding and clothing them into account. And you’re still not guaranteed they’d be any good.’ Maybe a bad slave would make her look better. Maybe it would only reinforce her position as his favourite; his partner. She swallowed a mouthful of her drink. ‘Anyway, it’s not a decision you need to think about right now. Right now you only have one slave, and she still has to thank you for your present.’ A few quick gulps and her glass was empty again, her head buzzing pleasantly. She put her glass aside and reached for his belt, tugging lightly, assuming she knew what he had in mind when he’d said she could thank him. Of course, undoing his belt was a fairly symbolic gesture. She still needed him to take his pants off himself, and that was always a worthwhile show. Almost as good as watching him put them on in the first place.

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♔Mercer Amsterdam
 Posted: Nov 4 2017, 10:19 PM
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Currently looking for musically talented slaves (or those to turn into slaves) to exploit their talent for profit.

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Jinx is Offline

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Mercer smiled knowingly at her. It was a particularly unsettling way to be looked at by someone who literally owned you and seemed to suggest that he was aware of what she was thinking as much as doing; he wasn’t of course, at least not what she might be concerned about him knowing. Instead he was amused by the mental image of making Elora use a measuring tape on the waitress’ tits and calling it a ‘fitting’ for their uniforms. As she herself had thought, this was Mercer…

“You’re probably right, which is the reason we went with hirelings anyway; though the way things are going so far an all slave band does have a certain appeal,” his mouth twisted in remembered displeasure at the earlier audition. The nerve of those nobodies. “I wouldn’t be too worried about finding replacements. Low skilled, ‘paid’ work is relatively hard to come by in this city… so many slaves… if you’d been given the option of keeping your debtors away by letting the occasional drunk dump a beer on you or being sold at a slave auction which would you have chosen?”

“Why don’t you come over here and get off your feet for a moment, I’m sure you’re tired,”
He arched a brow as she’d already helped herself to a seat beside him and removed his belt. He let her watching the entire time wondering in the back of his head if she'd done it to protect herself and then leaned back one arm sliding around her waist to draw her back with him so that her back ended up coming to a rest against his chest. It was an oddly comfortable and.. Intimate position, with his hand softly stroking at a few strands of her long hair as she talked about the pitfalls of slave ownership and difficulties of breast measurement. Ok, so it wasn’t all that normal and surely not as comfortable as it would be without a bruised up ass, but it was probably better than him going for his belt.

She probably didn’t need to worry about becoming redundant to him… though he wondered how the Elora of a few months ago would’ve seen her reaction to the spectre of another slave being around to take attention. By this point it was clear she’d carved a pretty serious niche for herself into Mercer’s life and if there were bumps in the road to come they were at least half of the sort that Mercer’s irrational mood swings were always going to pop up. He’d never be fully ‘normal’ but now and then he could come pretty close.

“Sounds like you did very well tonight, Sweetness,” he gripped the bottle and poured a couple long gulps back into his throat and swallowed audibly. It was almost superhuman how much he could drink and still function; it wasn’t, it was just the adaptation of a high functioning alcoholic who required booze to keep functioning at all. He gave an ‘ahh’ when he reached over and set it back down on the small nightstand freeing up his hand to stroke against her arm lightly.

His fingers traced small patterns against the surface of her skin soft, sweet, tickling in a way that could raise goose bumps against the skin. His eyes studied her as he lapsed into a somewhat unaccustomed silence, seeming to be focused entirely on what he was doing though it didn’t seem to really require it. In a way, he mused, it was a shame that she wasn’t wearing the waitress uniform herself. She had some spectacular tits, but he wasn’t inclined to share them unless he was in the mood to… probably when it would be fun for him and humiliating for her… plus everything he’d said earlier about making sure she remained a useful extension of his authority over the bar was entirely valid. It just wasn’t the whole story. He’d never thought of himself as the jealous type, but then he’d never really ‘owned’ all that much. His upbringing had left him so absurdly happy about even simple things and even during his brief flirtation with stardom he had actually owned precious little; he’d only had two ‘relationships’ outside of flings and both had been relatively shortlived. One had been something arranged by his manager, a publicity stunt to stir up the tabloids, and the other hand been...disturbingly to a more introspective man, a waitress at the diner he had worked at to keep himself fed after leaving home. It hadn’t ended well. But now he was free from such concerns this couldn’t end anyway but his choosing and that brought about a feeling of power of possessiveness that he was still getting a handle on.

The hand that had started playing with her hair a while back began to slowly weave his fingers down through the strands of her hair. His long strong fingers massaging against her scalp the relaxing tension that caused balanced by the knowledge that at any moment he might turn that into a powerful grip in her thick hair. But he didn’t, at least not yet and the hand on her arm skipped over to her stomach tracing against the vaguely floral pattern of the dress.


“Tell me. If you could close your eyes and be anywhere you wanted to be. Where would you go, Sweetness?”


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Elora Sol
 Posted: Nov 4 2017, 10:36 PM
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Conversing with Mercer could be quite the minefield, as Elora quickly sidestepped the disastrous topic of the band, and was immediately faced with questions about her own slavery. The question seemed rhetorical in that she knew what answer Mercer was suggesting was “right”, but that didn’t mean he wanted to hear her say what she would have done to avoid the situation he’d put her in. And lying to him would only simultaneously go against the point he was trying to make. She decided to treat it as fully rhetorical and not answer at all. She just nodded instead, ‘Yeah, you’re right. We’ll find someone.

Despite her willingness to do what she thought he wanted as his thanks, Mercer seemed to have other ideas, pulling her against him in a way that was far more comforting than what she’d had in mind, and gently stroking her skin. She felt herself relax despite everything. If she didn’t enjoy moments like this when they came, she’d feel like they never happened. He was warm against her back, but even so the gentle tickle of his fingertips made her shiver as his hand left a trail of tiny goosebumps in it’s wake. She sighed softly with contentment, her own hand reaching back to lightly pet his thigh.

Another trick question, courtesy of Mercer Amsterdam. There were a great many places Elora would choose to be, rather than here with Mercer. Back on her homeworld, for a start. That was such a dangerous line of thought that she pushed it away before she could fall into it. It seemed like too much of a suck up answer to reply that she’d choose to be in the future, watching the band he’d made playing his songs to a huge crowd. And it seemed too much of a cop-out to say she’d choose here, in this moment of peace and affection. ‘Maybe a holiday. To one of those beach resorts. With fancy cocktails and warm sun.’ And no collars, or belts or cages.

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Veilfire: A Dragon Age RP Fools Fief



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