My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Episode 2 Discovered by Marita A. Hansen Page A

when we were shuffled over to a
window, the chains jingling as we walked.
    “ You may all look at
me ,” Mario
said.
    I turned my attention to him, seeing the
others in my periphery doing the same, although I stole furtive
glances of the lounge. Men in black and white were setting a large
table, garnishing it with steaming hot food and salads. My mouth
watered, my stomach grumbled, the meager portion I’d been given
earlier not even coming close to quelling my hunger.
    Mario started talking, “The
Donatelli are coming to dinner, so I expect all of you to be on
your best behavior. Any disobedience and the punishment will be
severe for both the perpetrator and the other three slaves. I don’t need
acknowledgement just that you do as I ask without a whimper of
complaint. Red...”
    The redheaded woman at the
other end straightened. “Yes, Master?”
    “ Since you’re my number
one , you’re
in charge. If anyone so much as says a word out of line you are to
tell me at the end of the night. Of course, if I find out you’ve
lied; I will make your punishment twice as hard.”
    She flinched. “Yes,
Master.”
    He stepped forward and placed a hand
behind the woman’s head, giving her a long kiss. After a minute he
finally pulled back, the look on the slave’s face ecstatic. He was
a very attractive man, but to me no one could outdo Jagger’s
beauty—although Frano’s attributes were extensive. I silently
cursed myself, annoyed that I had compared them, and even more
annoyed that I found Frano attractive. No, I shouldn’t be annoyed,
because his appearance was nothing more than a superficial exterior
to be appreciated like a beautiful painting. Though, his
personality was more like a Picasso image: distorted and ugly—just
worth millions.
    Mario turned and headed for Frano, who was
watching me from across the room. Mario stopped in front of him,
saying a few words. Frano patted his arm, then they both left the
room as the black-suited men continued to set the table.
    Seeing my opportunity, I turned to the
women. “I’m FBI. Tell me your names.”
    The women ignored me, all of them staring
at the floor.
    “ Can’t I even know your
names?”
    “ You are not to speak
uninvited,” the redhead said, her accent sounding
German.
    “ I can speak whenever I
please.”
    “ No, you can’t, the master
hasn’t given you permission.”
    “ My m aster is Jagger, and he allows me to
speak.”
    “ Master Mario is in charge, so
you have to adhere to his rules, otherwise we’ll all pay for your
insubordinance.”
    “ Insubordinance? Who speaks like
that?”
    “ Me, because I don’t wish to be
tortured because of you,” Red said. “So, please be quiet before the
masters return.”
    “ Can’t you at least tell
me your name?”
    “ Red.”
    “ No, your real
name.”
    “ It is my real name, Master
Mario gave it to me, so please be quiet, the servants are watching
us.”
    I looked over at the waiters, who were
throwing curious glances at us, no, it was only one of them: a
teenage boy who looked about eighteen. He was slim, his face not
that much different from Jagger’s, just with a few adolescent spots
and darker eyes. I wondered whether he was related. The boy smiled
at me shyly. I smiled back without thought, although I didn’t know
why, other than he seemed sweet, and at least he wasn’t ogling my
body. Gay, I thought. He had to be.
    A l oud male voice came from the
adjoining room, then a second later an elderly man in a well-cut
black suit appeared with Frano. He had grey hair and was wearing a
hearing aid, which was probably the reason for his loudness. I
instantly recognized the Donatelli don. I had read about him having
ordered a hit on a whole family, even the children being
slaughtered, because a woman who was from that family had escaped
from his slave cells. The woman had gone into protective custody,
but had been gunned down before the trial had started, which meant
that the old man and his family had