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Small Luxuries

BRIELLE’S POV

“This way, miss….” Brielle followed the heavily built man leading her away from the stage without saying anything, and she did so silently.

‘Miss?’ She mentally repeated to herself.

He'd addressed her as a miss, but she was just an enslaved person, so why bother with that endearment?

He had told her to come and get dressed, and now he was calling her miss.

'That is not a term of endearment like you’re thinking, silly girl.' Her subconscious instantly chided, and Brielle rolled her eyes as she continued walking down the path where the man seemed to be leading her too.

At the same time, she became aware of her surroundings and realized that this place, like every other slave handler's abode she had visited, was the same.

Brielle couldn't help but feel sorry for the desperate men and women who were arranged in rooms or cells, waiting to be sold.

She wasn't blindfolded this time, unlike previous times when she passed, and all she could hear were their distressed voice
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