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Xavier chuckled dryly, but did not say a word until the servant had left. As long as he obeyed. When did he ever obey? He did have one master he was forced to obey...one master he could not fight back against, and Xavier could not have experienced a more greater sense of satisfaction when he'd gotten the chance to shoot that man in the heart, killing him instantly before he even got a chance to realize what had happened. The tables had turned and he was free, until the members of the club drug him back to the club and he was forced back into the dungeon where he felt he belonged amongst the forgotten or abandoned slaves to the club's members.
Xavier ran a hand across the comforter, the very top bed sheet, before sitting his rear down onto the soft mattress and he kicked off the boots he'd been forced to wear, then he moved one leg after the other onto the mattress and laid down to stare blankly at the ceiling with his hands on his flat stomach. As he laid there, he tried reminding himself that this was another home he'd be in and out of quickly, maybe in a few months or so...but, would he really be able to leave so easily? Would this master get fed up with him to where he's forced to sleep on a cold, concrete floor while listening to the sobs and muttering of slaves who have lost hope and/or dove into a sea of madness? Xavier couldn't be sure. With other masters, he was able to tell right off the bat if they were skilled in what they do, but with this blank, stone-faced man he couldn't tell if he was skilled or just plain brutal.
Though, he had to admit, he hardly cared. It wasn't like anyone from his past was looking for him by now. It's been four...five...maybe even more years than what Xavier can remember that he's been a slave. All he remembered was walking off the grounds of some large building(a school maybe?) and then everything went black with him waking up to the muttering and whispers of business men who gazed upon him as he was left bare and nude with his hands tied in the air, his knees bent against the stage floor, and a ball gag keeping him from saying anything even though he was too deep in a foggish haze to even think rationally.
Xavier smiled to himself. It seemed so long ago, and here he was again in the house of some wealthy man about to spend time fighting for his independence...lather, rinse, repeat.
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