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She loses control.
Their eyes would meet for scant moments, barely enough of an opportunity for empathy to pass between them, but they took what they could get.
Any form of connection was worth it.
Fiori had given Lem and his crew the largest back room to conduct their "business," and the entire night to do so. The same kind of leash had been clipped to Cherami, who had accepted it with nary a sound, only a stoic nod of the head, and the pair had been led away from the sound and fury of the main floor and into the quiet confines of the back.
It was a familiar enough place to Amy; the bed was large enough to be imposing, and couches aligned with the two side walls, sporting plenty of room for whatever activities the occupants wished to get up to. She had once seen fully ten people, slaves and customers alike, walk into this particular room together, so she had some idea of just how varied those activities could be.
Two of Lem's goons had taken up positions at either side of the door, but the third- picked out specifically by Lem himself- had followed them inside. He took a seat on one of the couches, as Lem took the bed, dragging his two acquisitions along with him.
'Alright, now...' Lem tilted his head, holding both leashes in one hand so that his two toys were forced to stand close together. 'How am I ever going to choose?'
Amy's skin crawled. She had been in situations like this all too often, waiting in literally the most vulnerable position of her life, while strange men and women decided her fate like she was some cheap commodity. What was worse was having to stand next to Cherami while it happened, to look over and see that resigned look in her eyes. Brilliant blue, and utterly defeated.
'Yeah, okay,' Lem seemed to be talking to himself, but a moment later his eyes flitted past the girls to his bodyguard. 'Claude, you take the redhead. Blondie, on your knees.'
The bodyguard- Claude, apparently- stood to take Amy's leash from his boss, removing his jacket and tossing it over the back of the chair as he returned to it, 'Interesting choice, Sir, taking into account your ginger fetish...' His British accent came as a shock to Amy, a little shard of home to lodge in her heart and prick her over and over.
'So I get to watch her,' Lem shrugged. 'I don't have to look down. A blowjob and porn, who could ask for more?'
Even as he was talking, his eyes never dipping for a moment, Lem had been undoing his pants and, eventually, dragging Cherami's head down into his lap. Obediently, the young woman went to work, her head bobbing to a backing track of slurping and sucking, even the occasional moan that Amy hoped, in that last little free place in her head, was theatricality.
'I think I can handle that,' Claude murmured to himself, unzipping his own fly. 'You'd best get on your knees, Miss.'
Amy blinked, the sheer strangeness of hearing an honorific like that in a place like this stalling her mind for a second or two. She risked a glance at Claude's eyes, examining his face as closely as she could in the short length of time she allowed herself. There was something familiar there, a sort of helplessness about the eyes, as though he was just letting himself get swept along in the current of what his boss wanted.
Not that it stopped Amy from doing what she was told, dropping to her knees in front of the couch, her head downcast in the usual respectful manner. It was the safest option, but also the best for Amy; she didn't have to look at her abuser like this.
She could hear Claude moving, undoubtedly taking his hardness out of his pants, but the moment she looked up to check any sense of routine immediately vanished. Her heart skipped a beat, and she swallowed nervously.
'Ooh, I can see that hesitation from here!' Lem said, clearly amused. 'Claude here is a special case, an import from Pyrdion. Cost me a pretty penny, but it was worth it: they grow 'em big there, don't they?'
They did indeed.