'What?' she tried to ask with her eyes, but his eyes closed.For a half of a second, Cassie was worried. What if she failed, and he lost again, and he ...ad to forfeit again? What if he blamed her, and asked her to leave? Would he really cast her away so quickly?For half a second, she worried. And then she remembered some of the things he had told her. They were here to have fun, and they were having fun. Nothing would distract her from that, and as soon as he opened his eyes, she was going to. Officially in Dorme slavery didn’t exist and was forbidden, but existed a class of workers named ?home mates? which were divided in two categories – dependent servants (same like the serfs in the past) and tool men (same like slaves). He had, of course, to make the best deal possible and for less money to get as higher quality servants for home as possible. The Mistresses were keeping eye on the market races, so they were controlling his job. Due to the delay during the control he should lose. She was liberated, she celebrated life in her own sophisticated special way, and she was an explorer of humanity for truth and ultimate happiness. This took him to the second conversation in London. Soho in fact. A strange choice he thought for a Duchess. In a restaurant bar called Soho Soho, this was the early 90's. It was a Friday night. A piano played blues music as they drank; he had asked her how she relaxed. She was on the third wine splitzer. She laughed and told him the more splitzers. Oh, Mike! I’m so sorry!” she started to well up as she sat on the bed next to me.“I’ve been such a bitch to you. I can’t believe what’s happening to me. A shitty job, a fucking asshole husband who leaves me for his secretary.” she started to sob. I put my arm around her and tried to console her.“No Micheal. I mean, you’re the only one who supports me and I crap on you too as soon as something goes wrong.” She was crying now. “I’m depressed, broke, I haven’t been fucked in 5 years and I’m going.