#lot 1

The next party I attended was not one my Master hosted.

It was also smaller than the last one.

Maybe it’s because I’m used to the big extravagant parties that master hosts on their estate, the various guests who bring along their own little pets and prisoners.

Mercifully, the host of this event did not seem to have any fun and games for us yet. At least, not until dinner is over.

I’m chained up in a room with four others. Our pathetic, worthless selves were not worthy to sit in the same room as the masters as they dined together. If we behaved, however, they promised us scraps from the table as our own dinner. For now though, we were just left here in the cold, grey, windowless room. There’s a draft coming from the gap under the door, and the wood looks old and rotten, yet none of us are in any position to reach it.

We’re all knelt or sat on the concrete cellar floor, our chains keeping us tied to the walls. None of us were muzzled here, not like my first party, where several of the other pets were so poorly behaved they were punished in front of us.

I hoped not to see that tonight.

There was a small squeak from somewhere outside the door, and the pitter patter of tiny paws scuttling just there. Rodents. The masters have put us down here where we belong.

“Can’t - get - this - stupid - thing - off!”

I don’t recognise these pets down here with me. I haven’t seen them before. I have seen one or two a few times at other parties, but these ones are fresh faces for me. Master’s friends must have more than one pet in their household, unlike me who does not have time with my master divided.

That one over there looks strong, they look fierce. They are tugging and pulling at their chains. They’re fighting so hard against the merciless metal restraints that even I can see it causing them pain. I shift in my spot, and I’m reminded just how tight these things are. If I were to fight as much as them, I would be digging into my wrist, probably drawing blood.

My master doesn’t like me bleeding unless they’re the one that caused it.

They have a lot of bruises, and I can only assume that they are normally very disobedient. They had a brutal looking bruise on their neck, it looks like they were choked at some point recently.

Why else would they have so many scars?

“You aren’t supposed to, you idiot. You seriously think they’d make it that easy?”

“Keep quiet, will you?”

Another one hissed, one closer to the strong one.

There’s five of us in here, trapped together in this small room, with only each other and the rats for company. There’s the strong one, the defiant one – who is sat furthest away from me. They had a messy mop of black hair and green eyes, bruises painting their flesh with an almost intrinsic pattern.

The one next to them is the one that spoke, they had long locks of beautiful blond hair. Their master clearly cared for their appearance, because I couldn’t see any bruises or cuts or anything on them.

The one between me and the blond one is small, quiet and not looking at any of us. They must be very new, but already very aware of the consequences of disobedience. They were not as certain as me, though, because they were trembling with fear where I knew to take any kind of relaxation where I can. Any moment without my master is one where I can breathe.

The final one in here is knelt on my other side. They were tall and clearly already injured – if the huge, glaring cut on their bare leg was anything to go by – and not at all comfortable in the way they were seated. They kept shifting, kept changing positions, trying to find some comfort against the brutally cold stone wall. I felt awful for them, like that. We have a momentary reprieve from our masters and they can’t even be comfortable.

I had been so focussed on keeping my head down and trying to enjoy my peace that I only became aware that they were speaking again in that moment. The first one was brave. Their determination was admirable, but I was too tired to try and tell them otherwise.

“Look, I don’t know about you, but I am not staying here. To hell with putting up with this!”

“And how exactly do you propose getting out of this situation, genius?”

“They’ll come down here, and they have to unchain us, right? There’s no way they’ll be able to fight all of us if we fight them together!”

“Bless you, you sweet naïve child. They aren’t that stupid. You think they’ll let their guard down around you? They already know you’re a troublemaker. The only chance we’d have is if one of those two did the fighting.”

The second one nodded in the direction of me and the small one, and I clenched my fists in their restraints. Why did they have to drag us into this? As much as I want to help them – to use what little strength and fight I have left to resist our captors – I know better.

I’ve seen this film before, and it doesn’t end well.

The first one’s voice suddenly calms, from that insistently urgent voice, to a very gentle, yet equally frantic tone. Begging. Pleading. It hurts, to hear them say things in this voice, it hurts to know that they just aren’t going to get out of this one unscathed if it doesn’t work – which I already know it will not.

“Come on, you have to give us a chance. Please.”

Nothing I can say will make them change their minds. Not when they’re so alive with that hope, clinging onto that desperate fantasy of potential freedom. I wish I had that, I wish I did. If that hope is what keeps them alive, then I would hate to tarnish that. I don’t want to kill that.

But would letting the masters break their spirits be any easier?

I remained silent, acting as though I heard nothing. It’s safer that way.

The one to my other side, the tall one, piped up next. Had they been talking this whole time? I wasn’t certain.

“I’m trying, whether you help us or not. We just thought you’d want a chance to escape too.”

I don’t know anything other than a life in and out of the auction house, going from one master to the next.

I don’t have anything to escape to, even if I could.

---

“Now, now, now… why did you think this was a good idea?”

An hour later and things have gotten worse for all of us. I didn’t even do anything, but now I wish I hadn’t held my tongue so stubbornly.

We had been with our master’s after dinner was over, at their sides as they conversed, showed us off, talked about us in front of us. My master had been running their hand through my hair, and I just let them, keeping my bound hands close to me, keeping inside the world in my own head – blocking out the laughter and occasional assault from our masters.

But now, things have progressed rather significantly.

Our masters were not pleased. They surrounded us all, keeping us trapped within their circles that we were knelt down in. I kept my face burning to the ground, bowed down and only listening to the host of this gathering. The host was leaning in close to the strong one, the one that had tried to break free of their master’s grip and run away.

They had gotten as far as the stairs before they were stopped.

“You think that you can expect to get the better of us?”

I stole a glance to my left, looking at the other pets in that direction. The tall one, and the small one, over there. The small one was bowed down so low, quaking like a leaf, that one would think that they were caught misbehaving. The tall one was knelt proudly, watching the host. They were laughing, smiling, almost happy that one of them had done something wrong.

Any excuse to hurt us, I suppose.

“A shame, really. But now we have some entertainment for the evening, don’t we?”

They called upon their guests, our masters. They all cheered in agreement, and my chest is burning with dread, the anticipation is killing me. What do they plan to do with us now?

The host left the brave one laid there, tied down and beaten for now, shuddering in their breaths as they tried to stay conscious. They went straight for the small one, the one between me and the tall one. The one that is trembling with trepidation and fear so much that I can’t help but want to cry out for them to stop.

But the pain that shoots through my arm when I consider opening my mouth, is what makes me stop. It’s not a pain that leaves a scar, it’s the burning, residual pain of something already experienced, like a phantom had simply come up and struck me.

A warning.

“A good pet, aren’t you, little one?” they cooed, ruffling the hair of the small one.

I wonder what they mean… this isn’t what I thought it was. Why are they…?

“Don’t be so frightened. We’re proud of you.”

I look at the little one, before darting my eyes quickly to the beaten and bloody brave one on the floor.

Oh. Oh no.

“You did a good job, telling us what the bad ones were planning. You deserve a reward, don’t you? Good behaviour earns rewards.”

It was only now that the host stood up and nodded at their friend at the side of the room, that I noticed metal things sticking out of the fireplace over there. Metal things.

I can put two and two together. We’re all going to suffer for this.

The host took the small one by the hand, helping them to their feet, cooing softly and speaking so gently. The host led them to the fireplace, handing them the cold ends of one of those metal pokers, and it shook in their grip. The host was careful and patient, though, standing behind them, trying to help keep it still and steady. I wasn’t focussing on their attempts at keeping them calm, though, I was watching the white hot, smoking end of that black metal get closer and closer to the brave one. My insides are knotting, and I can’t help but want to scream and cry, to beg for mercy for them.

But I can’t. It didn’t work last time, and it won’t work this time.

“You’ll see what happens to bad pets who think that running from home is a good idea,” the host continued, standing over the brave one, who was now fighting and bucking from down there on the floor, “keep still, now. Don’t want to get something vital, do we?”

I don’t turn away. I don’t close my eyes.

I simply watch, in horror, frozen in place. I can’t do anything but watch and listen as that sizzling metal makes contact with tender skin, and the screech that follows is enough to send echoes ricocheting off the walls of this grand mansion.

Saute your usual work lunch with a more classy experience situated amongst elegant decor at Lot.1. The atmosphere is perfect for a client meeting or even if you just wanted to spoil yourself a little. Prepare for a overly satisfying meal that will leave your tummy with the biggest smiles (and possibly a food coma if you get a little greedy and over-order like I may have...). 

Toss into a medium-sized plate of casarecce pasta, which is short in length and complimented with the perfect amount of sauce so that it’s not too heavy. Add extra cheese as you please - because, honestly, who can say no to more cheese. However, given the perfect balance, your dish would leave a lasting sensation on your taste buds. Compliment your choice of main with a plate of their polenta chips - it was a great addition to take a small bite in between mouthfuls of the main dish to help break down any strong flavours.

Stack with their angus burger, which may seem simple and ordinary but I really enjoyed it. Melt into the soft yet slightly crunchy bun that sandwiches a super juicy chunk of angus beef - it’s a burger that won’t make you feel too guilty but is still quite indulgent. Finally, if you’re feeling that guilt just from salivating over their menu, then choose a salad which again is packed with flavour - remember it can be a side dish too *wink*.

**ratings: 8.7g edibles | 8.7g value | 8.7g service | 9.0g ambience

Tips: invited to dine as a guest of Lot.1 Espresso Bar