She’d hoped it would at least be empty so she could pack and disappear in silence. She sucked in a breath, wiped her cheeks and tried to walk in casually as though nothing had happened. Hannah was there, brown hair flying every which way in its usual crazy curls. She was camped out on the futon, and some guy was sitting on the floor. Christi vaguely recognized him from her BritLit class last year — sandy blond hair, solidly built, but thick glasses and a bit nerdy, engineering major or something. What was his name? A-something — Andrew? Anthony? No, it was more unusual… ‘Hey Christi,’ Hannah said cheerily. ‘You remember Anders?’ Anders — that was it. Norwegian or Swedish or something. ‘Uh huh, yeah…’ Christi said and made a vague wave. She tried to plot a path to the bedroom past his outstretched legs and not cry. ‘Hey,’ Anders said. Then he caught a closer look at Christi’s face. ‘Hey, are you OK?’ ‘Ohmigod Christi, have you been crying?’ Hannah burst out. She was never good at. This might have been the longest conversation she ever had with Sara. It would most likely be their last. It wasn’t the answer Sara had been expecting. But, upon a minute’s reflection, it was the one she realized that she should have expected. ‘No, I meant about the baby.’ ‘I’m having it, of course,’ Yvoine said with firm conviction. ‘Are you going to tell Travis?’ ‘Of course,’ she replied, trying to sound casual. Sara said nothing and they waited for Yvoine’s master to arrive home. When he was informed of her condition, a brief flash of raging anger washed over his face, then he regained control of himself. He had always prided himself on his control when dealing with his slave. ‘Take out your jewelry and leave your collar,’ was all he said, then he marched out of the bedroom door and into his small study. Sara watched as Yvoine carefully removed her rings from nipples, pussy and navel. She hesitated for just a minute before reaching up and unbuckling the collar from her neck and.
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