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“I understand that many members like to share, and that’s fine. But someone else’s sex slave is of no interest to me,” I said slowly. “If I didn’t break her or train her, she isn’t mine to use. I don’t like to take what I haven’t earned.”
There were a few murmurs of approval at that. I breathed a sigh of relief. They liked that line of thinking.
“As for why I don’t want to share Tatum,” I went on. “I have a long-term plan for her, as I was discussing with my father recently.”
“Please elaborate.”
“She can’t be owned by me in the same way you all own your girls, because she genuinely hates me. Hates the King name in general,” I began. I cleared my throat. “She had absolutely no idea she would be given to me when she sold herself to the society, and after her subsequent behavior, I quickly realized she would never submit to my ownership with the usual methods.”
“So what is your new method, then?”
I took a deep breath. “I intend to make her fall in love with me. When I finally let her discover the truth, she will be so crushed that she will become permanently broken. After that, I have a feeling she will become the most submissive sex slave this place has ever seen.”
There were more whispers and murmurs at that, louder this time. They sounded positive.
“That’s an interesting strategy to break in a slave, Elias, but I think we are all in agreement that we strongly approve,” said a crisp voice from somewhere on the left. “It’s cruel. Inventive. Truly ruthless. In her case, it might actually work better than physical methods.”
“Exactly. No amount of money or physical punishment can stop her from hating me and refusing to submit. But preying on her emotions…” I trailed off and let the words hang in the air, my point already implicit.
There was another extended pause as the men spoke amongst themselves in hushed tones.
“Elias James King,” came a booming voice from the left a few minutes later. “You have passed the first council interview. Congratulations.”
I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
“Take your robes off and throw them on the ground in front of you.”
I did as they said, tossing the robes at my feet.
“Now step on them.”
I stamped right on them. “Done.”
“Today was only the tip of the iceberg. The easiest part.”
“I figured.”
“You will be observed over the next couple of weeks, and you will undergo many difficult trials. If you are successful in attaining third-level status, you will be brought to the council and informed on your birthday. There you will receive new black robes to mark your advancement, and you will become privy to all our secrets. If, however, we deem you unworthy, your old robes will be returned to you, still soiled to signify your failure. You will remain at the second level, and you will never again be considered for the third level.”
Brutal.
“Got it,” I said.
“You must be aware that if you pass the trials, the only way out of the third level is in a coffin. Once you are in, it’s for life.”
I rolled my eyes, knowing they wouldn’t see in the gloom. I knew for a fact that shit about leaving in a coffin was all theatrics and hyperbole. Henry Davenport left the third level a couple of years ago, and he wasn’t dead.
“Sure,” I said. “I understand perfectly.”
“You may leave now.”
I didn’t reply. I simply turned on my heel and marched out, head held high, a satisfied grin quirking up my lips.
I was close now.
So close.