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“Filthy slumdog.”
“Covered in love bites again.”
“But he is never at any soirees.”
“Have you not heard?”
“They say his master…”
“No way!”
“With a dirty mongrel?"
"If master would make me bed that filthy thing I would be sick."
"Well your master has taste."
"No way an elite would…"
"Shhh, he can hear you!"
"Who cares?!"
All the other pets turned as one to glare at Riki as he walked past.
Riki didn't acknowledge them as he shrugged mentally. Scared little playthings he could break with one hand. By now he knew, there was no reason to let them get to him.
When it really came down to it he knew most of it was jealousy. Ironically they were vying for a perceived privilege that Riki would gladly trade away to any one of them.
The whispers picked back up once he had passed. A bit too soon to be convincing that they had waited for him to be out of earshot.
"What makes him so special?"
"A blondy's pet."
"Did you see his neck?"
"His stomach."
"His butt."
"That big one on his shoulder."
"I swear I saw one on his inner thigh…"
"If only lord Mink had chosen a proper pet."
"You think you would have been excellent don't you?"
"You're not as good as you think!"
And there is was. The rivalry of pet politics. Riki sighed as the elevator doors closed behind him, cutting off the quibbling behind him.
He could see his reflection in the elevator mirror. There they were, the love bites, in all the places the other pets had mentioned, and more. Riki didn't care how offended the other pets felt. As far as Riki was concerned he had it worse. If only the pet dress code would allow it he would gladly cover up every single mark on his body. But it didn't, and so he was forced to display everything Iason did to him, thus living through all of the humiliation anew. Perhaps Iason knew and took sadistic pleasure in the fact.
Riki took in his own reflection staring back at him.
His neck: covered in hickeys from when his head had been dragged back by the hair. Iason had attacked the exposed skin with his mouth until the bruises formed a blotched necklace.
His stomach: marked with a trail of love bites that showed how Iason's mouth had continued its assault down Riki's body.
His ass: an angry mix of purple from when two hands had kneaded it lustfully until he had howled in pain.
His shoulder: marked with four red stripes where nails had been dragged across his skin. Although he recognized the marks as such, he could not remember feeling when it had happened.
His thigh: where the mark of teeth could be distinguished in an oval bruise that was starting to turn almost black. It was where Iason had led himself in his track down Riki's body and had finally come to a hold. Even now, standing still, it still hurt like a bitch.
Those were the marks the other pets could see. But there was so much more they could not see.
The handprint on his hip bone, where he had been held firmly when he tried to squirm away. His nipples, that had been tortured for so long the night before, that they would not relax anymore and stayed stiff and cramped so that the friction of fabric against them was pure agony. His torn up insides, that had made sure that, initially, he had not even been able to get out of bed, let alone walk.
They were welcome to have it all. The empty headed sexdolls that were capable of no thoughts other than those of jealousy. The questionable privilege of being Iason Mink's pet.