Chapter 2: Indentured
The hallway outside my apartment is quiet, the only sound the distant hum of the building’s ancient heating system, a wheezing, metallic groan that rattles through the walls like a dying beast. The flickering fluorescent lights cast long, jagged shadows across the peeling wallpaper, the pale yellow pattern faded into a sickly beige. The air smells like damp carpet and something faintly metallic—maybe rust, maybe just the lingering scent of cheap cleaning products.
I peak out into the hallway, hoping to avoid my landlady. The last thing I need is another lecture about rent or marriage or how I should just "find a good woman to take care of me." The thought makes my stomach twist. In this world, "taking care of" often means literal ownership—leashes, collars, and a lifetime of submission. Nope... not for this man. No way.
I slip through the hallway, my sneakers silent on the linoleum.
I’m almost to the exit when a voice cuts through the silence and I freeze in place, cringing as my stealthy escape is foiled again.
"Oh, there you are." Beth steps out of the shadows, her glossy black skin catching the dim light.
"Any progress on that back rent, sweetheart?" she says, her voice low and warm, like the rumble of distant thunder. "Let's get this fixed so I don't have to declare you delinquent, okay?" Her question is a threat, even though I know she doesn't mean it as one.
In this world, if a woman is a little delinquent, meaning the sum of money she owes isn't outrageous, there is a long process before she's deamed incompetent and eventually enslaved. She will work till she has payed off her debt, then set free, hopefully having learned her lesson.
Men, on the other hand, are already basically seen as incompetent by society. Enslaving us is morbidly seen as a mercy. There is no paying your way back to freedom, as a man. Once you are property, you remain property, for life. If I'm declared delinquent, a judge will rubber stamp my enslavement before she's finished her morning coffee. At that point, I'd become Beth's property, for the rest of my life.
I exhale slowly, my shoulders slumping. "I know. I’m sorry, Beth. I'm just in a slump." She pushes off the wall and steps closer, her bare feet making no sound on the worn linoleum. Touches my forehead as if checking my temperature. "You look tired. Did you get enough sleep."
I shrug, avoiding her gaze. It wasn't sleep I needed. It was a decent meal "Yeah. I just need some coffe, or something. I'll get some at the bar." Coffee was free at the Cauldron. I basically lived on the stuff.
Beth makes a sound in her throat, half scoff, half sigh. "You can't fool me." Her fingers brush against my shoulder, the touch light, almost maternal, but her eyes are sharp. "You work too hard and eat too little. It's not healthy, sweetheart."
I force a smile, but it feels brittle. "I'm fine, Beth."
She studies me for a long moment, her neon-green eyes narrowing slightly. Then, with a suddenness that startles me, she reaches into the pocket of her loose-fitting robe and pulls out a small, wrapped bundle. "Here!" she says, pressing it into my hands. "Eat this. And befor you say anything, I won't take no for an answer."
The bundle is warm in my hands, the scent of something rich and savory curling into the air between us. My stomach betrays me with a low, embarrassing growl. Beth’s lips twitch, but she doesn’t laugh. She just watches me with those knowing green eyes, her tail flicking once behind her like a metronome counting down my resistance.
I reach for it but she pulls it back at the last second. "The sandwich is free but rent is not." She smirks playfully. "I'm not asking for the whole amount. Just a little something to show me you're serious about paying it." Her neon-green eyes glint in the dim hallway light.
I exhale through my nose, rubbing the back of my neck. "The tips were good last night. But I won't able to buy supplies because..." I cut myself off before I mention the imp. Beth doesn't need to know about every little scrape I get into. She'd just worry more. I take out my tips and keep a few bills for myself, handing the rest to her. Its not even a quarter of what I owe her for past due, let alone for this month's rent. "A-anyway, this is all I can spare."
I watch her face carefully as I hand her the crumpled bills. Her expression looks less irritated and more concerned. Honestly, I'd prefer her anger over her disappointment.
"It's something, at least." she says, trying to look pleased, but I can tell it's an act. She releases the sandwich hostage and I gleefully accept it.
"I know it's not enough," I say, my voice steady despite the knot in my stomach. "But I promise, I'll get the rest soon. I just need a little more time."
Beth's neon-green eyes soften slightly. "You're a good boy, you know that?" she says, her voice warm but firm. "I know you're workng hard."
I nod, my fingers tightening around the sandwich bundle. "I'll figure it out. I always, do."
Beth studies me for another long moment, then sighs and steps back. "I worry about you. If I see you skipping meals or coming home with bruises again, I'm going to have to get involved. Good boys like you should be keeping their wives happy, not toiling in some back alley bar for tips. You're wasting your potential, sweetheart." She steps back, her bare feet silent on the worn linoleum, and I can see the moment she decides to let me off the hook—for now.
"Go on." she says, her voice softer now. "Eat that sandwich before it gets cold. And don't think I won't be checking on you tomorrow."
I nod, clutching the warm bundle to my chest like a lifeline. "Thanks, Beth." She waves me off with a flick of her hand.
I open the door and make my way out onto the street. The sandwich is warm in my hands, the scent of roasted meat and melted cheese making my mouth water. I take a bite as I walk, the flavors exploding on my tongue—rich, savory, with just a hint of something spicy that lingers. Beth’s cooking always tastes better than it should, like she puts some kind of magic in it.
The streets are busier now, the morning commute in full swing. Demihumans of all kinds weave through the crowd—winged women laughing in groups of three, a horned merchant haggling with a feline hybrid over a basket of glowing fruit.
I take another bite of the sandwich, the flavors grounding me as I navigate the bustling streets.
The city is a strange mix of modern technology and magical whimsy. Paddlers sell everything from potions to cell phones. Corrupt cops and violent criminals are common sights, but so are the everyday struggles of survival in a world that doesn’t always care if you live or die.
After I finish my sandwich, I keep my head down, my hands shoved deep in my pockets. The taste of Beth’s cooking lingers on my tongue, a small comfort in the chaos of the morning rush.
The city pulses around me—neon signs flicker like dying stars, the scent of fried street food mixes with the metallic tang of magic in the air. A group of imp women in tight leather outfits saunter past, their laughter sharp and mocking. One of them glances my way, her red eyes gleaming with recognition.
I exhale slowly, forcing myself to relax. I pretend not to notice them. Unfortunately, they seem keen on getting my attention. She flashes a wand and stands conspicuously before me. The wand is lethal, as good as a pistol in the hands of a creature with mana.
"Boss, Ann wants a word." She says. "You don't want to keep her waiting." The imp's placid face is an ocean of stoic calm but the fire in her eyes promises violence.
Focused on the wand, I don't notice when two other female imps take position behind me.
Their presence is only revealed when one of them presses a clawed hand into my lower back, pushing me forward.
"Move." The imp behind me growls, her voice low and dangerous. She's not playing around.
I don't resist. The wand in the first imp's hand is more than enough to convince me to cooperate. I walk forward, my sneakers scuffing against the pavement. The crowd parts around us like water around a stone, the other pedestrians giving us a wide berth. They know better than to get involved in imp business.
The alley is narrow and dimly lit, the flickering neon signs from the main street casting jagged shadows against the damp brick walls.
The air smells of damp concrete and stale beer... or urine?... probably urine. The imp women move with practiced efficiency, their claws clicking against the pavement as they herd me deeper in, toward a nondescript side entrance. The one with the wand keeps it leveled at my back, her red eyes cold but alert.
The side entrance to the building is half-hidden behind a rusted dumpster, the door itself a faded green with peeling paint. One of the imps shoves it open, the hinges groaning in protest.
The interior is dark, the only light coming from a single flickering bulb overhead and a small bared window, covered in aged grime. The walls are bare, the air thick with the scent of old wood, fresh sawdust and something earthy.
Ann is waiting for me, casually inspecting her nails. Its obviously, just for show. She’s perched on the edge of a wooden crate, her dark red skin almost black in the dim light. A single chair sits befor her. She gestures towards it.
"My new toy has arived... Sit." Her voice is low, casual. Her wooden crate may as well be a throne, this dusty storage room, her court.
I hesitate, glancing at the wand still pointed at my back.
"Awe puppy, It's just a chair, it won't bite." She teases. The imps laugh behind me.
I do as I'm told and sit, the cheap wood and metal chair creaks under my weight.
"You're learning. That's good. *Don't* waste my time and my mana and things will go alot more smoothly, moving forward." she purrs. "Now. Let's have a little chat. Shall we?"
Ann waves the other imps out. "Thanks, Ema, why don't you and the girls grab some grub? I can handle this toy on my own." Ann says, her voice dripping with confidence. "He's not going anywhere."
She raises her eyebrows and leans forward on her dusty throne. "You and I have unfinished business, human."
The door creaks shut behind the retreating imps, leaving us alone in the dusty storage room. The flickering bulb overhead casts long, jagged shadows across Ann's face, making her sharp features seem even more predatory. She gracefully hops down from her perch, her boots making almost no sound on the concrete floor.
"You look tired." she observes, circling me like a stalking cat, somehow managing to be intimidating, despite being at eye level with a sitting man. "Rough night, sweetheart?" Her red eyes glint with amusement as she stops in front of me. She tilts her head to the side, her pointed ears twitching slightly. "You're early for your shift at the Cauldron, aren't you?" Her claws tap lightly against the arm of the chair, the sound echoing in the quiet room.
I swallow hard, my fingers curling into the edges of the seat. She's trying to rattle me by showing that she knows where I work. "What do you want, Ann was it?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
Ann's grin widens "Oh, puppy, you know *exactly* what I want." She leans in closer, her breath warm against my cheek. The scent of something musky and dangerous fills my nose. "You still owe me money." Her claws tap against the chair again, this time right next to my thigh. "Did you bring my Queen's note?"
I exhale through my nose, forcing myself to meet her gaze. "I don't have it. Not yet. I gave what I could to my landlady this morning." Honestly, even if I'd given Ann all I had, it wouldn't have been a fucking Queen's note. Who carried that kind of cash?!
Ann's red eyes narrow slightly. "Mmm. That's *too bad*." She straightens up, crossing her arms over her chest.
Without warning, her eyes pulse indigo and a familiar wave of magic energy washes over me. My limbs lock up, my muscles tensing involuntarily. I try to move, but my body refuses to obey. The paralysis spreads from my toes to my fingertips, my jaw clenching tight as my breath catches in my throat.
Ann watches me with a predatory smile, her red eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. "There we go." she purrs, stepping closer. "Much better when you're not squirming around like a scared little mouse."
I struggle against the invisible bonds, but it's useless. My body is frozen, my mind racing as I try to process what's happening.
Ann tisks as she climbs onto my lap and straddles me, wrapping her legs around my hips in an uncomfortably intimate manner. "I need you to be more obedient for me, sweetheart. You see, when I give you instructions, I expect you to carry them out." She brings her face inches from mine.
Her breath is warm and sweet, like caramelized apples. "Don't worry, puppy. This won't hurt. Much. I warned you that If you couldn't pay in money, Id have to take it another way." Her claws trace my jawline, leaving faint red lines in their wake.
The paralysis spell holds me completely immobile, my muscles locked tight as steel. I can't even blink. Ann watches me with those glowing indigo-ringed, red eyes. "I'm going to start conditioning you, sweet boy. You're going to be more obedient, from now on." she murmurs, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "I'm going to make sure of it."
Her fingers brush my temple, and I feel the strange pressure of her magic probing my mind. "Look deeply into my eyes. Can you do that for me?" Her voice is soft and hypnotic. I try to resist, to look away, but my body refuses to obey. My eyes are locked onto hers, the world narrowing until there is only her face, her lips and the musky, dangerous scent of her perfume.
"Good boy." She coos. "You like being called a good boy, don't you?" Ann's voice is a velvet whisper, her red eyes pulsing faintly with indigo energy. "I can see it in your eyes. You want to please me so badly."
The pressure in my mind intensifies, like a warm, heavy hand pressing against my thoughts. I try to fight it, to hold onto my own will, but it's like trying to grip smoke. "Nuuh!" I groan incoherently.
"Shhh." Ann murmurs, her claws tracing lazy circles on my cheek. "Just relax. Let go. You don't have to think anymore. You don't have to worry. Just listen to my voice and look deeply into my pretty eyes." My resistance falters as the edges of my perception blur even more. This is bad! I have to get free before... before... what? What was I doing?
"Good boy," Ann coos, her claws tracing lazy circles on my cheek. "You don't have to think anymore. You don't have to worry. You're safe and sound. Just focus on me. On my voice, look deep into my eyes." She grins triumphantly as she realizes I'm fully entranced.
"Excellent! Now to plant a few suggestions into that malleable brain of yours." Ann's voice is a velvet whisper, as she taps my forehead. "You're going to be such a good boy for me, aren't you? You want to obey me." she murmurs, her voice weaving through my mind like silk. "Obedience is pleasure. Being dominated by me is joy. Doesn't that sound nice, Puppy? You're feeling more submissive towards me. You're a good boy. A good, obedient, submissive boy."
My defenses are shattered. I helplessly nod agreement, hanging on her every word. "Yes." I mumble "I'm... a good boy." I nod, my body feeling heavy and warm, my mind floating in a haze of compliance, my eyes glued to hers.
"That’s right, puppy. You’re *my* good boy." She slides off my lap and stands before me. "You’ve done very well, for our first session. I'm going to release you soon. You're not going to remember anything I said. But you're going to remember this feeling of submission and obedience. You'll remember a desire to please me, to be *my* good boy. Can you do that for me?"
I nod ruminating on the feeling of complete surrender. It really does feel so good to give in and let Ann take control. I don't have to think about anything. I don't have to worry about rent or food or the fact that I'm just a weak human in a world that doesn't care about me. I can just... exist. Be obedient. Be a good boy.
"Now I'm going to count backwards from three. When I get to one, you will remember only the feelings of submission and obedience. You will not remember my words or my suggestions. But you will remember the desire to please me. To be *my* good boy. Understand?"
I nod again, the warmth of her voice wrapping around me like a blanket. "Yes, Ann." I murmur, my voice soft and compliant.
"Three..." she begins, her eyes holding mine captive. "Two..." Her eyes continue to glow, light pulsing like a heartbeat. "One."
The world snaps back into focus with a jolt.
I blink, my vision clearing as the dim light of the storage room comes back into view. Ann stands before me, confidence and danger radiate from her curvaceous form. She's so small, yet so powerful. I can't help but feel a strange mix of fear and fascination. The way her dark red skin glows faintly in the dim light, the way her pointed ears twitch with every sound, the way her vertical-slitted eyes seem to see right through me. She's beautiful in a dangerous way, like a leopard or colorful snake.
The paralysis spell seems to have lifted, but something else lingers. Something I can't put my finger on. a strange sense of peace and I feel somehow closer to Ann. I shake my head, trying to clear it, but the sensation remains, like a thread of silk wrapped around my thoughts.
Ann watches me with those glowing red eyes, her grin sharp and knowing. Then, without warning, she snaps her fingers.
"Wallet." Her voice is casual, like she's asking for the time, but there's an edge to it that makes my fingers twitch.
My hand moves before I can think, reaching into my pocket and pulling out the worn leather accessory. I present it to her and only then realize that something is very wrong.
Ann's grin widens. She purrs, stepping closer. Her claws brush against my wrist as she plucks the wallet from my grip, her touch light but possessive. "Good boy! That wasn't so hard, was it?"
A wave of pleasurable warmth radiates down my spine at the words 'good boy.' Her eyes are not glowing so it isn't a spell. So what is this feeling of pleasant warmth I feel so suddenly?
She flips open my wallet, her red eyes scanning the contents with a mix of amusement and curiosity. My money is in my pocket so that's not what she’s after. "Whats this, human?" She asks, removing my Earth driver's license. "I don't recognize this language." Ann says, her claws tracing the edge of my driver's license. "What is this? Some kind of human currency?" She tilts her head, her pointed ears twitching with curiosity. "Or is it a spell? A summoning sigil, maybe?"
I watch her, my mind still fuzzy from whatever she did to me. "It's just an ID." I manage to say, my voice sounding distant even to my own ears. "From where I'm from."
Ann's red eyes narrow slightly, her claws tapping against the plastic card. "Where you're from?" She repeats, her tone suddenly sharp. "What ever." She says, casually tossing it aside.
The plastic card skitters across the concrete floor, coming to rest near the rusted dumpster. "I don't care where you're from. I care about what you owe me. And you owe me a Queen's note." She steps closer, her claws tapping against my chest. "You get off at two A.M. yes?"
Ann's voice drops to a purr. "You're going to be a good boy and come back tonight with my money. Every last copper. And if you don't..." She trails off, her red eyes gleaming with mischief. "I'll have to start coming up with some creative punishments."
I nod surprised that, rather than fear or reluctance, I feel sad that I will likely disappoint her. What is wrong with me?! "I'll do my best, Ann." I manage in reply.
She nods, pleased by my response. "Good. Now run along, if you hurry, you can still make it to work on time. And Puppy, be a good boy for me." Ann's voice is a velvet whisper as she leans in close, her red eyes glowing faintly with amusement. "I'll be watching you."
The words send a strange shiver down my spine, but it's not fear that makes my breath catch. It's something else—something warm and heavy, like a blanket wrapped around my thoughts. I nod, my fingers twitching at my sides.
She smirks, her claws tapping against my chest before she steps back. Now go."
I don't hesitate. I turn and walk out of the storage room, the dim light fading behind me as I step back into the alley.
Mercifully I'm on time to work today, but just barely.
The Cauldron begins stiring to life when I open the swinging doors, the familiar scent of roasted coffee beans and something sour greeting me like an old friend. There is a small pack of people waiting for me to open, demihumans of all kinds crowd around. I recognize a few as regulars.
The place is a dive, but it’s *my* dive... well technically it's Eva's but it's where I feel most at home. The Cauldron is a narrow, dimly lit bar with a long, scarred wooden counter that stretches the length of the room. Behind it, shelves sag under the weight of dusty bottles and mismatched glasses. A few flickering neon signs cast jagged reflections across the polished surface of the bar.
My shift is unremarkable. The usual crowd of regulars filter in, their orders a familiar rhythm of coffee, whiskey, and the occasional potion. Eva watches me from her office, her cat ears twitching as she nurses a tumbler of top shelf whiskey. She doesn’t say anything, but I feel her eyes on me like a weight.
I wipe down the counter for the third time, my thoughts drifting back to Ann. The way she I wanted to please her and they way it felt when she called me a 'good boy.' I shake my head, trying to clear it, but the sensation lingers—warm, heavy, like embers in a harth.
My tips are not great. Its a weeknight and this world doesn't have the tipping culture of the US. Most customers don't tip at all.
The few who do toss me a copper or two, their eyes flickering with amusement or pity. I don't mind. I'm used to it. I'm just happy to have a job. A job that doesn't involve being someone's property.
It's 2 A.M. I close up shop and this time, get no protests from the patrons as I usher them out.
The last straggler, a horned woman with a penchant for cheap whiskey, stumbles out the door with a muttered curse and a slurred promise to return tomorrow. I lock the door behind her and lean against it, exhaling slowly. The bar is empty now, save for the lingering scent of spilled alcohol and the faint hum of the flickering neon sign outside.
Eva steps out of her office, her cat ears twitching as she surveys the room. She’s wearing a fitted suit that hugs her curves, her tail flicking lazily behind her. She’s always dressed like she’s about to step into a boardroom, even when she’s just closing up a dive bar.
"Good work today, boy." She says, leaning against her offices door frame. "Lock the door behind you, on our way out."
I nod. "See you tomorrow, Eva." I reply, turning to leave. I count my tips. Seven single notes and five coppers. Ann will be less than pleased. A Queen's note is 50 single notes. Not that I ever expected to make that much in a single night.
I lock the door and am not even surprised to see an imp waiting for me.
She doesn’t say anything, just nods at me to follow. I sigh and fall in step behind her, my shoulders slumping. The imp leads me to Ann's alley. Then she turns to face me, hand open, palm up. The message is clear.
I hand her the seven notes I made. Every note a painful stab. How was I going to pay rent? How was I going to eat? I had given Ann the last of my tips. I had nothing left. The imp woman took the notes with a nod, her expression unreadable. She didn't even bother to count them, just slipped them into a hidden pocket in her leather vest.
"Boss says to tell you," the imp began, her voice flat and emotionless, "that this is just the beginning. You'll be paying her back every week until the debt is clear. And she expects you here tomorrow, same time as today." She trailed off looking visibly drained from reciting all those words. "Now get." She Said, motioning toward the end of the alley.
I managed to hold onto the copper I'd earned but the minor victory felt hollow. I nod and drag my feet home.